Leading Off

Welcome to Passed Ball, a baseball blog reporting at double play depth.

What does that mean?

Nothing really, it just sounds cool.

OR, it means that I will combine both quantative and qualitative analysis into one all-powerful, Double-Q metric that believes in quality over quantity.

What is this blog about?

Baseball. Duh.

What makes this different than the 10 zillion other baseball blogs out there?

Obviously, no one else plays at double play depth.

Everyone else plays Corners-In, hugging the line, no extra-bases, conservative defense.

Bore-ing.

What can I expect from Passed Ball ?

Well, for now, I'd like to keep the expectations low, but I'll aim high.

One thing you will never see in this blog is Fantasy.

I am anti-Fantasy. Not for me, no way, no how.

But I love Stats. I love Moneyball, Sabermetrics, and crunching every number on the back of a baseball card.

I was that kid who read Baseball Encyclopedias for breakfast.

I created a percentage-based-dice-rolling simulation game (pen and paper) when I was 12-years old and I simulated a whole season.

Side-note: Later in life, I learned that Jack Kerouac also created a similar baseball-sim game when he was a kid.

What can I say, great minds think alike?

I was that kid who played an entire season of Front Page Sports Baseball (remember that game?) on my PC with the Red Sox and I didn't make the playoffs.

Imagine that? Spending hours, days, weeks, months even playing 162 games, and not making the playoffs!

I am a Red Sox fan from Northern New Jersey.

I am that guy that New Yorker's hate more than Mass-holes. I am sleeping with the enemy. I am a spy in the Bronx. A double-agent.

I come from a long line of Italian-American Yankee fans.

So, again, I was an outcast not only in my neighborhood, but in my family as well.

I also played some competitive ball to.

Never heard of me? C'mon, seriously?

I had 24 steals (never caught) in ten games. Batted .500 with a .750 OBP. Warning track power. Lead-off, centerfielder, plus arm, led my team deep in the playoffs.

That was 1993. My last professional year. I played for the Red Sox.

I was 14.

Ah, glory days.

Suffice it to say, my Parochial High School team was heavily recruited and loaded with talent. I was a speedy centerfielder who could switch-hit.

But pitch? What the hell is that?

I didn't know I had to pitch too!

Bummer.

Anyway, enough about me...

...but c'mon, those 24 steals were pretty freakin' amazing. That's like 389 steals in a 162-game schedule.

Move over Rickey, here comes Anthony.

But just like Pedro Cerrano, curveballs just ate me up.

Screw you Jobu, I do it myself.

So, this is where I am now.

You and me.

A taylor-made,

6-4-3...

...double play.