Blake Murphy Sports Writing

Title: On Intangibles
Date: August 19, 2011
Original Source: The On Deck Circle
Synopsis: This piece was a bit self-reflective, looking at the disconnect between how I view sports at a personal level (intangible-laden) and how I view them at a professional level (statistically-minded).

The basis of this article, as you’ll probably discern, is a bit selfish in nature. To provide context, some #HumbleBrag is necessary. To wit – I have strong intangibles (I think). In general, I’m not an exceptionally talented person in any measurable way, and what I bring to the table professionally, socially, and athletically, is difficult to quantify. I guess this holds for all people, since personality can’t be quantified…so maybe this will hit home for some…or maybe I should shut up. My performance reviews generally touch on strong leadership  abilities. Socially, I provide value by being the “organized one” or the “planner” more often than not. I’m not above-average for Softball or Basketball (not even close for basketball, actually), but a high sports-IQ complements my mediocre skill set (hockey is a different story…straight Ginos, Nifty Mittens, Wheels, etc, etc). I’m also, in Malcolm Gladwell terms, a Maven, someone who owns and shares a lot of information (for no real reason other than to own and share it).

Okay, so #HumbleBrag was an understatement. #SelfFellating may have been more appropriate. At least I didn’t claim to be an above-average athlete though, right?

The point is….I sometimes run into cognitive dissonance when evaluating sports because of this. If I, in many aspects of my life, derive value from and see value in intangibles, how do I sometimes ignore or write-off their impact in the world of professional sports? How do I embrace Sabermetrics, a field of study that strips the human element out of baseball almost entirely? How do I devour the methodology for new advanced basketball statistics that would do the same? How do I accept players with off-the-field issues as equal to those without? Why did it ring true to me when Jonah Keri recently wrote that “An All-Star who is a dick is still an All-Star?”

Now, to be clear, I don’t completely rule out the impact of intangibles when discussing sports with friends, or when I talk about them casually. It’s generally apparent when I write (and in the types of articles I prefer to read) that I don’t hold intangible explanations in high regard. I’d rather look at Vernon Wells’ deteriorating UZR/150 than his charitable contributions, and I’d rather look at his declining BB% and corresponding increasing K% than his leadership abilities in the clubhouse.

This type of crude sports analysis doesn’t mesh well with the type of person I actually am, hence the cognitive dissonance – are intangibles really unimportant, and therefore I don’t hold nearly the value I think, or are intangibles actually important, but I’m just ignorant to their impact at a professional level? Of course, I could gloss over this with the assumption that the more developed the situation (be it league, workplace, etc), the less of an impact intangibles have, but this seems lazy and, to be honest, wrong.

If I’m being honest further, I must admit that a large part of the inspiration for this article is Brett Lawrie. The kid oozes confidence and swagger, plays balls-to-the-wall Full-Tilt at all times, and it really seems to be impacting the Blue Jays’ dugout. I’ve never been in there, so I don’t know, but the team as a whole seems more confident of late. I can’t claim that Lawrie is helping Edwin Encarnacion be more selectively aggressive, or that he’s helped improve Aaron Hill’s hand-slot, or that he’s responsible for Ricky Romero’s unbelievable streak of starts of late. He obviously didn’t make these tangible changes to the individuals. You also can’t prove that Lawrie has lead to bigger and more vocal crowds himself, and that crowds have an impact on players. (Note: While modest, the Jays have averaged 800 more fans in the six home games since he’s been up, but this number is understated because Oakland and the Angels [their opponents in those games] are among the league’s lowest for average road attendance.)

With that said, his call-up did seem to mark a changing of attitude and performance for the team as a whole. Small sample sizes be damned, the Jays are 8-5 since his promotion (.615 W%) and were 56-55 without him (.504 W%). Now, the Jays also had a strong July at 15-11 (.577 W%), so maybe the team was turning around with or without Lawrie. Maybe the heating up of Eric Thames, Adam Lind, and E-5 were just coincidences of timing. After all, Brad Mills sure hasn’t felt the effects of Lawrie, nor had Jon Rauch (although Lawrie could be so awesome that Rauch’s appendix exploded in excitement – we can’t rule this out).

I’m picking arbitrary end points and using what my eyes have saw and what I assume about sociology to pin the turn around on Lawrie. But it’s not difficult to see how confidence, excitement, or a commitment to full-out effort at all times could be infectious. How could it not be, unless you’re for some reason bitter or just a fuddyduddy? Picture yourself in a situation where those around you are excited and confident, and the impact that would have on your emotional state.

Of course, intangibles aren’t always good. For every good guy in a lockerroom, there’s probably an asshole. And using yourself as an example again, admit that playing and working with assholes sucks, and has an impact on you. Lawrie’s brash confidence could have negative effects, too, especially if other teams take offense to it. Likewise, with Lawrie getting all of the attention of late, there’s the possibility of damaged egos or quiet resentment. These can’t be ruled out either.

And really, that’s the point. Intangibles can never really be ruled out. We know that players in any sport don’t develop in a linear manner, and no one person’s development is the same. Yet we use ZIPS or comparable historical players to project baseball and basketball players and sometimes ignore the context of development.

Football does a better job of this, of course. The third thing mentioned about quarterbacks after arm strength and accuracy is intangibles. In hockey, scouting is based almost entirely on intangibles, how guys can work within the context of the team, if they’re a grinder or a gamer, and so on. Why the dichotomy between the two more physical sports and the two less physical sports? (I am not suggesting the physicality is an answer, I’m merely using it as a grouping for the sports).

The anecdotal history of baseball is filled with tales of personality and intangibles. Ditto for basketball. It’s the Wilt vs. Russel debate. It’s probably also why the Miami Heat didn’t win a title this year despite having two of the best players on the planet.

The point I’m trying to make here is this – I’m a little disappointed in myself when I really think about how I analyze sports (sometimes, I am not universally negligent to the psychological side of sports). I’ve used only a few cherry-picked examples throughout here, but this isn’t meant to be a scientific piece. I’ve written this as a plea to myself to not ignore the personal and emotional aspect of sport as much as I sometimes do. I’m all for VORP and DVOA and Total QBR and Adj+/- and everything else like that, but I need to do a better job of not using these as a crutch for analysis.

Not everything can be explained with a tidy formula. I have to admit to the limitations of measurement. Some things just aren’t tangible.

Just ask me.