Sure, maybe Earned Run Average has seen better days. But at the posh baseball statistics parties, she’s still surrounded by admirers. Batting average sulks in the corner, drowning his sorrows. Pitcher wins gripes about the modern world — “Nobody even wins 20 of me anymore. And don’t get me started on 300.”
Everyone gawks jealously at OPS’s flashy new outfit. “Who knew adding two numbers with different denominators could be such a hit?” sacrifice hits mutters. WAR stops in, but only for a moment; he has two other engagements to attend tonight.
“I don’t know how I got so popular,” WAR tells RBI. “I really don’t! It’s crazy! But I mean, you know how it is; you were pretty popular like back in the 1970s or whenever?”
“I used to choose MVPs,” RBI said forlornly.
“Anyway, gotta run — I’m doing a Ted Talk.”
Earned Run Average knows she’s not as famous as she once was, but she still feels like she matters. Fielding Independent Pitching — FIP, aping ERA’s three letters — trails her all night, desperate to be her best friend.
“Can you believe this news about Kershaw?” FIP asks.
“What news about Kersh?” ERA asks. She doesn’t check the news much. She still has a flip phone.
“He’s retiring!” FIP blurts out, thrilled to break the news (she cannot wait to tell her twin brother WHIP that she got to tell ERA about Kershaw’s retirement!).
“Really?” ERA says. “I guess that’s no surprise. We were all expecting it, weren’t we?”
“I know,” FIP replies, “but it’s so sad, isn’t it? Time flies! I still remember the young Kershaw from 2014. He had a 1.81 me! Do you know how good a 1.81 FIP is?”
“Darling, don’t refer to yourself in the third person. It’s gauche.”
“Doesn’t it just break your heart?”
“When you’ve been around for as long as I have, you learn: they come and go. There’s no use being sad, no use hoping time will stand still. You just enjoy them while they’re at their best. I remember when Walter quit — 2.17 for his career. 1.14 in 1913. Oh, Walter and I were a pair. I never thought anyone could go lower than 1.14. Then Bob did it in 1968. My favorite year.”
“Was Walter Johnson better than Kershaw?”
“Ah, different times. And we had so many back then — Christy’s 2.13, Big Ed’s 1.82, Three Fingers’ 2.06. those were good times. But I’ll tell you this, Kershaw’s 2.54 is just wonderful. Lowest by far since those Deadball days. Much lower than Whitey or Sandy or Tom or Pedro.”
“How do you think he did it?”
“Oh, he had the stuff. You can’t put up a 2.54 without it. But more than that — he deceived! You know what Spahnie used to say — hitting is timing, and pitching is upsetting timing. Kersh was the best I ever saw upetting timing, you know, with that little pause in his windup and the way he threw every pitch with exactly the same motion. Ah, he was a joy to count.”
“You’ll miss him.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll miss him. But someone else will come along. Someone always comes along. That’s the beauty of baseball. Maybe it will be this Skenes fellow in Pittsburgh.”
“Did you know he has a 2.43 FIP?” FIP asked hopefully.
“I did not know dear, no,” ERA said. She excused herself, drifting off to talk Kershaw with strikeouts, innings pitched and other old friends.
📓 This is Joe’s Notebook.
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