And those who have their noses pressed against their computer screens and think VORP is a valid means of measuring a player’s performance ought to get a life and a credential that would allow them to see and hear the game up close. Then determine the players whose numbers actually contribute to winning and those who are equipped only add the next run in a 15-3 game.

–Marty Noble, here

There is, of course, an obligatory joke here about Mr. Noble being a Mets beat writer and the inability of anything or anyone associated with the Mets to, you know, get it, but in the interest of good sportsmanship I’ll let it pass.

So now, of course, being the blogging nerd he’s so desperately railing against, where do I start?

How about this:  where is it written, in the grand constitution of baseball rules and by-laws, that one would have to actually have a clubhouse credential to be able to see a game?

I assume that it’s not me, that when I pay for my ticket, or even when I tune into YES or FOX or ESPN or whomever, that when I see the game being played, I am, in fact watching the same game that Mr. High-and-Mighty is watching from the press box.

Look, there’s one thing, and one thing only that a clubhouse credential actually gets you:  access to players, coaches and staff.  It’s a pretty big thing, I will admit–access means you get to do the breaking of the news, that you get a feel for the players and staff as people, and that sort of thing helps when you’re writing a story.

The credential, however, does not change the game that’s played on the field.  It doesn’t change how good or bad a player is, and it doesn’t on its own bestow any sort of enlightenment.

That enlightenment–that ability to discern good player from poor–that comes from watching the game on the field, and it comes from the ability to balance first-hand viewing (through whatever medium one so chooses) with the information one can gleam from the box score, and, yes, the advanced metrics.  You should not have to be able to calculate WAR or FIP if you’re not a GM’s assistant (they pay people to do that for you), but having the numbers to back up while Mariano Rivera is more valuable than Jonathan Albaladejo should matter.

Now, here I hate to generalize–I know some sportswriters to whom this would not be applicable–but in Mr. Noble’s case there seems to be an instance in which the credential is seen as this all-powerful document that grants legitimacy to a few and keeps out the masses.  A case of “I have a credential, thus I know what I am talking about and you do not.”  Or, in simpler terms, it’s a case of “I’m better than you.”

This is, of course, not true.

In fact, I could argue that the best analysis (and here we are talking about analyzing criteria and ascertaining whether player X or Y should enter the Hall of Fame, and not waxing poetic about our favorite athletes for a human interest, Bob Costas-laden special) comes not from the credentialed beat guys, but from those basement-living bloggers Mr. Noble so rails against.  Now, of course, there are plenty of credentialed writers who have an excellent analytical mind, but it would seem that Mr. Noble has yet to access his.

Instead, what we are left with is yet another instance of a holier-than-thou bias, as though Joe fan is utterly insginificant.

Look, I don’t want to suggest that actually seeing a player is not important.  It is, especially when it comes to scouting.

When it comes to the Hall of Fame, however, I’m a little more skeptical.  I mean, for one, Ty Cobb’s in the Halll and many consider him to have been, well, if you pardon my language, a racist asshole who was not above hitting women, either.  The thing is, Cobb was also a damn good baseball player, and that should be the primary criteria.

It’s the Hall of Fame–not the Hall of Saints.

Yet Mr. Noble would have us believe that only credentialed reporters are capable of understanding who deserves to go to the Hall of Fame and who does not, because it is apparently impossible to objectively quantify how good a player is in baseball.

Never mind the fact that Moneyball* has been a best-seller because it proves exactly the  opposite.  (Not just Moneyball, but The Numbers Game, which is better, should be considered too.  Oh, and then there’s this thing called Baseball Prospectus…)

Yeah, I wish I had a press credential.  For one thing, it would mean that I might actually get paid (albeit a pittance) to write about baseball, but as far as I understand it, a home run hit by Derek Jeter on my TV doesn’t become a home run hit by Alex Rodriguez just because someone has a press credential.

If a player’s statistics show that he’s one of the best second basemen of all time, he should be in the Hall of Fame.

Most fans understand this.  Maybe, someday, the writers will, too.

*I have certain issues with Moneyball I may or may not remark on at a later date.