MattS wrote:three major comeback victories:

--wednesday the braves had a 99.3% chance of winning at one point.
--saturday the rockies had a 74.4% chance of winning at one point.
--today the rockies had a 89.2% chance of winning at two different points.

mozartpc27 wrote:

MattS wrote:three major comeback victories:

--wednesday the braves had a 99.3% chance of winning at one point.
--saturday the rockies had a 74.4% chance of winning at one point.
--today the rockies had a 89.2% chance of winning at two different points.

I think my favorite all-time one-pitch turnaround on those is this: on one swing, from 9% chance of winning to 100%.

Houshphandzadeh wrote:It's 3 runs or less, right? I guess Myers is closest at 4 in 7?

momadance wrote:

1 wrote:

momadance wrote:

machinegunfunk wrote: at least the rockies have 2-3-4 up. hint: sit on the slider

That happened?

Its amazing that he's not a hitting coach.

MattS wrote:

mozartpc27 wrote:

MattS wrote:three major comeback victories:

--wednesday the braves had a 99.3% chance of winning at one point.
--saturday the rockies had a 74.4% chance of winning at one point.
--today the rockies had a 89.2% chance of winning at two different points.

I think my favorite all-time one-pitch turnaround on those is this: on one swing, from 9% chance of winning to 100%.

wow that outdoes even burrell's homerun vs san fran last year. that was 10%-100% in one pitch.

And the stupid hitters still look fastball, just sit on slider and spit on everything else. He hangs almost two in every at bat but everyone takes them.

No

I wouldn't mind but I have to pass out from exhaustion first

Brad Lidge throws a slider. This is something I yell at the TV on a far too regular basis, bringing myself perilously close to an aneurysm doing so. Despite my pleading cries, I routinely see batters fooled by a slider they should know is coming but seldom do. There is an element of fatalistic Greek tragedy in this; Lidge’s recent invulnerability begetting the seemingly inescapable conclusion of a bewildered batter doomed to realize only too late that his favored fastball has been usurped by an insidious breaking ball.

Clearly, there is an element of hyperbole to this. Like most supposedly ‘guaranteed’ occurrences in baseball, the times the prophesied outcome actually does occur resonates far more loudly in our minds than the times where events defy our proclamations. Jeter always gets the clutch hit (except when he doesn’t), A-Rod never gets the big hit (except when he does), and so on. Even accounting for your every day, run of the mill extremism, there appears to be something to be said for the frequency with which Brad Lidge throws his slider - a staggering 55% in 2008.

In the interests of full disclosure, I am obligated to let you all know that I am a Mets fan. Exposing the Straw Man of Brad Lidge and his slider is something that I have a vested interest in. I’ve never been impressed with him, most likely because he didn’t pitch very well against the Mets (4.32 ERA, 1.56 WHIP, .250 BAA in 2008), and because when I see him against other teams, it seems that from my vantage point (safe and sound on my couch), I alone am able to see that the emperor is wearing no clothes and is getting by only with his slider. The purpose of this article is to explore how Lidge uses his slider and when he seems to lean on it most. My original hypothesis was that the higher the leverage of the situation, the more he would go to it. Practically, this would mean that in non-save situations he would throw more fastballs, while with the tying run on second he would pump in an endless amount of sliders, and that batters would therefore be best served by sitting on the slider. While the scope of my research leaves me unable to make definitive conclusions, there are definitely interesting insights to be gleaned from my brief study.

The catalyst for my crusade to sit on Lidge’s slider was an at-bat by Daniel Murphy on August 27th, 2008. After hitting a slider for a go-ahead double, Murphy was quoted as saying that he and Mets hitting coach Howard Johnson had resolved for him to sit on Lidge’s slider (verily the Israelites were delivered from the cruel Pharaoh! ). The next incident also started with Murphy, when on September 5th Lidge wriggled his way through an unimpressive save. Murphy led off the inning and once again appeared to be looking for sliders. In an event that I have not seen repeated, Lidge proceeded to throw five straight fastballs, eventually getting him to ground out. To me, it seemed quite apparent that the Mets were looking for Lidge’s slider. With men on second and third, Carlos Beltran swung at a chest high slider, the kind he usually deposits over fences, and unfortunately got under it and flew out. Anecdotally, this appeared to reaffirm my belief that sitting on Lidge’s slider is the best plan of attack. While it likely takes a special kind of hitter to be able to recognize the slider and to adjust accordingly, I don’t think that changes anything; Lidge possesses the very useful ability to quickly find out who can’t read his slider and he attacks with it mercilessly. Considering the quality of his slider, those who aren’t talented enough to hit it are fodder for him regardless.

The next two incidents illustrate the opposite scenario: batters waving ineffectively at an endless stream of sliders in the vain hope that Lidge the Merciful tosses a fastball their way. Fittingly, Jeff Francoeur and his ever refined plate approach are involved, as on April 8th 2009, Lidge entered the game with a two-run lead, and promptly added a K to his stat line after throwing Francoeur five straight sliders. Matt Diaz then stepped into the batter’s box and looked at two fastballs (one ball and one strike) before stroking a slider for a homerun. Two batters later Garrett Anderson struck out swinging at five straight sliders. Of Lidge’s sixteen pitches, only three were fastballs. The counterpart of this inning is from the 2008 playoffs and is forever seared into my brain. On October 10th, working with a three-run lead, Lidge threw a scant seven fastballs out of twenty three pitches. While that percentage alone might seem interesting, the grouping of the pitch selections, as well as my open-mouthed astonishment at watching the inning transpire, caused me to earmark the inning. Manny Ramirez walked on five pitches, three of which were fastballs. Andre Ethier followed by striking out swinging on three straight sliders. James Loney then walked on seven pitches, four of which were fastballs. Matt Kemp came to the plate as the tying run. During his brief visit to the plate, he received five straight sliders, striking out swinging. Having just watched these sobering events transpire, seasoned vet Nomar Garciaparra decided to one-up Matthew and strike out on three straight sliders, swinging and missing at each.

While I originally set out to analyze Lidge’s pitch selection in high leverage situations, such a study was unfortunately out of my league. Strapped for time and resources, I decided to look at Lidge’s pitch selection in the play-offs, figuring Lidge would be pitching at his most Lidge-like here and not leave anything in the tank, and that the situations were the direst. Though the sample size is only 9.1 IP, the findings are stark. Lidge threw his slider 65%(!) of the time (sixty-four out of one hundred seventy-three pitches were fastballs). He threw at least one slider in all but one at-bat longer than 2 pitches. After the NLDS, Lidge threw 69% sliders, and in the World Series he threw only six fastballs out of thirty-one pitches. Out of thirty-eight at-bats, ten featured no fastballs whatsoever (26%). Obviously I am wary of speaking definitively on the findings due to the sample size, but it can only strike me as truly remarkable that two-thirds of the pitches Lidge threw in the play-offs were sliders.

As the purpose of this quest is to advocate sitting on Lidge’s slider, I also looked into his 2008 Pitch F/X data to see how plausible this was. To sit on a pitch requires that it be hittable, and hittable usually means a strike. For those who have listened to anyone broadcast a Lidge inning, they often remark at how Lidge has two sliders: one he throws for a strike and one for a ball. While this seems like mindless announcer blathering, it speaks to the truth; Lidge throws his slider in the strike zone very often. In 2008, 23% of his sliders were called strikes, much more often than his contemporaries: Soria’s curve was a called strike only 11.3%, Nathan’s slider/curve 13.6%, and Rodriguez’s curve 17.6%. Conversely, 45.6% of Lidge’s fastballs were called balls. Compared to other elite closers, this simply doesn’t match up: Papelbon’s fastball was called a ball 26.5%, Soria’s 26.7%, Rivera’s 31.9%, Nathan’s 32.8%. Even the “effervescent” Rodriguez threw a fastball ball only 35.2%. Looking at these numbers, it’s quite clear that not only is Lidge’s slider around the zone frequently, but also that his fastball isn’t. It seems counterintuitive to look for a pitch that not only comes less often, but when it does come, is out of the strike zone.

I don’t know what it’s like to face a major league pitcher, let alone one the caliber of Lidge. What I do know is that he throws a phenomenal amount of sliders. Almost every batter he faces will get at least one slider, which cannot be said of his fastball. Sending up hitters who cannot hit a slider is asking for a very frustrating strikeout. I don’t know how prudent it is to infer that his increased slider usage in the play-offs is definitive proof that he goes to it in times of need, but it seems that looking for Lidge’s slider is a strategy that appears to be both anecdotally true and backed up by his pitch selection. Early returns on this season have Lidge continuing the pattern established in the playoffs, as he has so far thrown his slider 66% of the time. In today’s (4/12/09) game against Colorado, it appeared as if they were looking for it (yielding two base runners), and I wouldn’t be surprised to see more teams do so in the near future; it’s definitely something to keep an eye on as the season progresses. For Brad Lidge throws a slider.

There is an element of fatalistic Greek tragedy in this; Lidge’s recent invulnerability begetting the seemingly inescapable conclusion of a bewildered batter doomed to realize only too late that his favored fastball has been usurped by an insidious breaking ball.