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On an episode of his podcast released last week, Marc Maron delivered an opening monologue about “Barbie,” the film directed by Greta Gerwig that has topped $1 billion in global box office sales.
Here’s part of what was said on WTF with Marc Maron:
“[It] blew up the box office internationally, which is beautiful, because now all the streamers who were holding all the actors and writers hostage — trying to starve them out because they think they can make movies with machines at a high clip without really engaging the soul… because they’re a bunch of… tech-nerd cowards who don’t get out and talk to people enough, aren’t out there feeling the feels, they’re just… looking at numbers and then trying to crush the creative heart of this business… and Barbie gave them a swift kick in their tiny balls.”
Hey, as I said not too long ago, every ball tells a story.
From time to time, I have to rewind my favorite podcast episodes because my mind wanders. Something that’s said inspires my own mental exploration — a journey to a place far from the conversation coming out of my car stereo — and I basically begin hosting my own podcast in my head. (I try to unsubscribe, but I just can’t.)
As Maron waxed about the passion and emotion behind Gerwig’s filmmaking as well as the visceral response he had to “Barbie,” I began thinking about how many teams (maybe even all teams?) didn’t send scouts to Major League games until July. The industry changed in a hurry, as front offices decided that modern technology delivered enough data from every pitch in every Major League ballpark to render scouting big league games redundant at best. I’m guessing there were few complaints coming from owners about the financial savings as well; consider the cost of a Marriott in, say, Philadelphia, and compare it to the cost of a similar property in Clearwater. (Yes, I am talking about a savings in the thousands in an industry where those amounts are usually rounded off.)
There’s a critical element to Major League scouting — and all scouting, really — that has nothing to do with a player’s on-field ability. Scouts are asked or expected to evaluate a player’s makeup, the habits and behaviors both on and off the field that carry over into performance. In reality, requiring someone skilled in analyzing hitting mechanics or projecting a pitcher’s development to make a decision on a player’s work ethic and dedication to the game in five days or less is like asking the valet at Ruth’s Chris to prepare your steak. Dinner will be served, but please don’t ask to speak to the manager.
Evaluating makeup is part psychology, part carnival game. It’s also a game of relationships. As soon as Maron referenced those who “don’t get out and talk to people enough, aren’t out there feeling the feels,” I thought about ill-fitting player acquisitions and awkwardly constructed rosters. The trade deadline inspires some teams to maneuver in the way that a “50% Off” sign might inspire consumers to make purchases they don’t need or had no intention of acquiring before they left the house. But there’s an expectation they do something.
Relationships in the game can be more valuable than the ability to identify a swing with a hole in it. A well-traveled scout has eyes and ears in 30 different clubhouses. Scouting Major League games is the best way to maintain those relationships and reap their work-related benefits.
For me, a greater reliance on data needs to come with an elevated need for the human touch — especially in July.
The final week in July is a microscope under which many teams self-evaluate. Whether its underachieving hopefuls, overachieving upstarts, or the Minnesota Twins, the games leading up to the deadline carry a disproportionate amount of weight for a 162-game season.
The reality, though, is that the annual campaign comes in stages. Yes, in the end, the number of games won and lost add up to 162, but with one-third of the season’s games still yet to be played, the remaining contests are not the same for all clubs. August and September can start to look a lot like March in some places.
The Orioles just swept the Mets, a team that looks and identifies very differently than it did three months ago. Meanwhile, the Mariners — a playoff team last year that appeared to capitulate at last week’s trade deadline — swept the October-or-bust Angels, who kept Ohtani and added every complementary piece that their over-harvested farm could leverage.
Of the 61 trades involving Major League players, how many will impact the pennant race this year? How many might impact future races? Compared to the hype surrounding the deadline, not that many.
What I’m most curious about, though, is what does “Barbie” remind us about best practices for baseball teams? How might the exploration of feelings — of humanity — in the construction of a roster or in the building of any team lead to an improved product?
What does Barbie remember about baseball that so many have forgotten?
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I've read a lot, not all or even most, of what you've written since you started WTP, but this is the first time I've felt compelled to comment. As someone who's been a leader (and, during my not-so-great moments, just a manager) of people for most of my adult life, your comments about the human element in an increasingly data-driven field hit home. I've dealt with numerous examples of "so and so is a great performer so we're going to add him to the team" with no consideration given to how their personality and how it might affect the performance of the rest of the team that's already in place and succeeding AS A TEAM. I'm reminded of the scene in Miracle where Coach Brooks wanted to bring in a superstar player after a poor performance and the team nearly revolted against him because it would have destroyed the chemistry they'd built. We know how that story ends.
Keep writing, because I'm going to keep reading.