November 25, 2022

Re: The Phillies, "Bedlam at the Bank," and the Baseball Gods

I started teaching at Villanova in 2012. My sons were still quite young—8 years old, 6 years old, and 4 years old respectively. We had already moved a great deal (the Capital Beltway area, Chicago, Oxford), and I was ready to root my kids in a place. So, naturally, we dug into Philadelphia sports.

Since that time, a few Philly teams have excelled. Villanova men’s basketball has enjoyed one of the best runs in the history of the college game, including seven Big East regular season championships in eight years and national titles in 2016 and 2018. Meanwhile, the Philadelphia Eagles won the franchise’s first Super Bowl in February 2018, and the 2022 club is currently 9-1. Other teams, however, haven’t fared as well. True, over the last few years, the Philadelphia 76ers have been one of the better teams in the NBA’s Eastern Conference. Yet, from 2013-16, the Sixers were the laughingstock of the league—a team known for “tanking” or losing on purpose in order to improve its draft position. By way of contrast, the NHL’s Philadelphia Flyers have been more consistent than the Sixers, particularly if one overlooks the Flyers’ dreadful 2021-22 campaign (25-46). Still, the franchise hasn’t won a Stanley Cup since the 1974-75 season, and it hasn’t won a conference championship since 2009-10.

Ouch.

Then there’s the Philadelphia Phillies—a professional baseball mainstay since 1883 and the oldest franchise in all of American professional sports to continuously use the same name and remain in the same city. The Phillies were the city’s most successful franchise during the 2000s, and they seemed poised to continue their dominance well into the next decade, winning 97 games in 2010 and 102 in 2011. Yet, a combination of ill-timed injuries, an aging core of veteran players, and a depleted farm system brought about a swift decline. By 2013, the Phillies were one of the worst teams in baseball, and they spent the next few years tanking alongside the Sixers. The only benefit to these years of irrelevance was the abundance of available tickets. My family and I took in our share of Jeremy Hellickson starts and Aaron Altherr at-bats, but there was little sense that the franchise was moving in the right direction. Indeed, even after signing superstar outfielder Bryce Harper in 2019, the Phillies could barely muster a winning season, finally clawing to one game over .500 in 2021.

The 2022 season looked like more the same. Despite snagging two of the off-season’s most notable free agents—power-hitting outfielders Kyle Schwarber and Nick Castellanos—the Phillies got off to a poor start and fired manager Joe Girardi on June 3. For a time, this move righted the ship, but injuries to core players (Harper, second baseman Jean Segura, starting pitcher Zach Eflin) augured the usual feelings of doom—feelings that were ostensibly confirmed when the team went into a September swoon. Over one particularly miserable stretch, the Phillies lost 10 of 13 games and, on the evening of September 29, found themselves tied with the Milwaukee Brewers for the National League’s final playoff spot. The media was calling it one of the worst collapses in baseball history, bad even by the Phillies’ paltry standards. It seemed almost preordained, as if something (or someone) was preventing the Phillies from getting back to the playoffs after an 11-year absence. This drought wasn’t about payrolls or roster construction; it was metaphysical.

And then, just like that, something changed. On September 30, the Phillies started a modest hot streak, winning four out of five games. Meanwhile, the Brewers went into a tailspin, losing two of three to the hapless Miami Marlins. Suddenly, following a dominant pitching performance by Aaron Nola on October 3, the Phillies found themselves in the playoffs. And yet, as the National League’s lowest seed, the thought of a sustained run seemed absurd. They wouldn’t have home-field advantage at any point in the postseason, and they were staring down a gauntlet of deeper and more well-rested teams. For most fans, myself included, it was good enough to just end the playoff drought and play meaningful baseball in October. Anything more would be extra, would be grace.

In retrospect, it appears that the Phillies players themselves adopted this mindset. Gone was the angst-ridden tension of September, replaced by the grateful joy of October. Free to live in the moment, the Phillies reeled off an unforgettable sequence of postseason wins. First, there was Segura’s two-run single in the top of the ninth inning in Game One of the National League Wild Card Series:

Next, in Game Three of the National League Division Series, there was first-baseman Rhys Hoskins’ epic three-run home run off of the Atlanta Braves’ sensational rookie pitcher Spencer Strider. In that one moment, punctuated by Hoskins’ ebullient “bat spike,” it was as if years of icy frustration melted away:

And yet, the best was yet to come. After beating the Braves, the Phillies faced the San Diego Padres in the National League Championship Series. The Padres were the favorite, but, after four games, the Phillies had a commanding 3-1 series lead. The expectation was that, in Game Five, the Padres would do whatever it takes to get the series back to San Diego. In the top of the seventh inning, as a seemingly ill-fated downpour lashed Phillies relief pitcher Seranthony Dominguez, the Padres took a 3-2 lead on a wild pitch. They were on the cusp of putting the game in the hands of their dominant left-handed closer Josh Hader, but first they needed two clean innings from capable right-handed setup man Robert Suarez. Suarez allowed no hits in the bottom of the seventh, but, in the eighth, Phillies catcher J.T. Realmuto singled to left field on an 0-2 changeup—Suarez’s first mistake. Next up was the left-handed hitting Harper. It seemed obvious that Padres would now bring in Hader, but manager Bob Melvin chose to stick with Suarez. For a moment, it appeared to be the right decision. Suarez quickly got ahead of Harper, who was forced to fight off a few vicious fastballs to stay alive. The sixth pitch of the at-bat was a changeup, down and slightly away. Somehow, someway, Harper didn’t chase it. Then, on a hard, tailing 2-2 sinker, Harper did this:

Citizens Bank Park erupted in a euphoria that Phillies play-by-play man Scott Franzke, in a now iconic phrasing, called “Bedlam at the Bank.” It was a moment of sheer magic, on par with some of best hits in baseball history. Certainly it was one of the greatest moments in Phillies history—not just because it secured a monumental win and a berth in the 2022 World Series, but also because it capped an almost unthinkable turnaround. How could a team that hadn’t been to the postseason in over a decade, that woke up on June 1 with a 21-29 record, that lost its best player (Harper) for two months due to a freak injury, that skidded through a moribund September schedule…how could that team win a National League pennant? How?

In the aftermath of “Bedlam at the Bank,” one of the most popular videos circulating on YouTube and Twitter was a replay of Harper’s home run set to “The Mighty Rio Grande,” an instrumental track by ambient post-rock band This Will Destroy You. “The Mighty Rio Grande” gained notoriety when it was featured in the classic 2011 film Moneyball, based on Michael Lewis’ book chronicling the 2002 Oakland A’s. In the scene below, journeyman catcher-turned-first-baseman Scott Hatteberg slugs a walk-off home run, giving the A’s a then American League record 20 consecutive wins.

In the lengthy history of baseball movies—the genre dates all the way back to 1898, when Thomas Edison released The Ball Game—this scene ranks behind only a few, including the walk-off homer that concludes The Natural (1984). On the surface, then, it makes sense to pair “The Mighty Rio Grande” with Harper’s “Bedlam at the Bank” home run. The combination undoubtedly works well:

And yet, the more I think about it, the less I’m convinced that Moneyball captures the reality of the 2022 Phillies. The premise of Lewis’ bestselling book, which is faithfully reproduced in the Oscar-nominated film, is that baseball needs to abandon the medieval thinking that has clouded the sport (and society writ large) for generations. The digitalization of quantitative data, in conjunction with the financial need (particularly in smaller markets) to eliminate inefficiencies and to maximize resources, has made it possible for MLB franchises to jettison time-honored methods for constructing rosters. For decades, the success of players (and teams) was thought to hinge on a number of intuitive judgments and arbitrary circumstances. It was as if success stemmed from a magical power or, as it is often put, “the baseball gods.” But today, as spearheaded by A’s General Manager (and current A’s Senior Advisor) Billy Beane, “moneyball” reveals such thinking to be little more than superstition. There are, in fact, no “baseball gods.” Everything can be defined and measured, precisely because accomplishment in baseball comes down to mathematics and physics. The trick is to find the right explanatory mechanism—the correct information—that allows one to predict success. Hence, and despite Moneyball’s iconic (and ironic) line, there was nothing romantic about Hatteberg’s home run. As Moneyball takes pains to emphasize, it was virtually algorithmic. The numbers said that Hatteberg was a winning player, and indeed he was. This was not divine intervention; it was statistical probability.

So, if Moneyball provides the archetype, one would expect the Phillies’ postseason run to be similarly predictable. But nothing could be farther from the truth. Consider: the Phillies were just the ninth team in MLB history—a history that is usually traced to 1901, when the American League was founded after more than thirty years of National League baseball—to reach the World Series in the wake of a managerial change. The last team to do so was the 2003 Florida Marlins; the last team before that was none other than the 1983 Phillies, a club vaulted by a shocking 11-game win streak in September. Another fun fact: prior to the 2022 season, the majority of pundits picked the Phillies to finish third in the National League East. With this in mind, oddsmakers gave them +2000 odds to reach the World Series; a few months later the odds had worsened to +4000. One might have conjectured that the Phillies would earn the respect of prognosticators by making the postseason. On the contrary: Vegas named the Phillies underdogs in each of their four playoff series, thereby giving a different meaning to the phrase “Bedlam at the Bank.” That “moneyball,” after two decades, has proven useful is undeniable; that teams such as the 2022 Phillies demonstrate its limits is equally so.

Indeed, as the Phillies continued to prevail in October and on into early November,¹ the chatter around the team took a curious turn. Commentators and fans repeatedly invoked the “baseball gods” when talking about the Phillies. In many cases, of course, this sort of language is delivered with a wink. The “baseball gods” are not thought to constitute an actual pantheon of deities; rather, they represent that which mysteriously escapes expert projections and statistical calculation. When a softly hit ground ball sneaks past the pitcher’s mound and kicks off the second-base bag into centerfield for a single, this surprises us. By all rights such ground balls should be caught. Why wasn’t this one? We might venture a theory or two—perhaps the shortstop was playing too far towards third base—but even those explanations are vexing. Who moved the shortstop towards third? And why now? As these questions mount, someone inevitably invokes divine intervention: “The ‘baseball gods’ are fickle,” one says with either a smile or a frown, depending on the team for which one is rooting.

And yet, during the Phillies’ playoff run, references to the “baseball gods” seemed to take on greater significance. There were just too many improbabilities, too much that “didn’t add up.” This was a team that had been dismissed as a contender months ago. Sure, they could smash home runs, but the math told the tale—too many poor defensive players, not enough good starting pitchers, too many unreliable relief pitchers, not enough foresight in the construction of the roster. Even the fans “knew” it: the last home game of the regular season was not a sellout, despite a key matchup against the divisional arch-rival Braves. Hence, as the Phillies’ postseason wins piled up, it increasingly made sense to frame this event in non-quantifiable terms. The Phillies were not defying logic; their unexpected success belonged to a different logic. In Aston, Pennsylvania—a small town near the Delaware border, where, incidentally, my boys have played innumerable youth baseball games—the Sisters of St. Francis of Philadelphia offered regular prayers on behalf of the Phillies. Dedicated to “bringing hope and joy to those in need by promoting justice and peace,” these nuns associated the Phillies with their mission to “celebrate life and good things.” And what is better than a felicitous surprise, than an incalculable triumph, than a faith made real? This is precisely why the sisters continued to lift up the Phillies in prayer throughout the playoffs. As Sister Kate O’Donnell, OSF, amusingly put it, “I think it's a good idea to keep praying all the time, no matter whether the Phillies are playing or not," she said. "But particularly, I think in the next couple of days we need to really pray hard."

Sr. O’Donnell was not praying to the “baseball gods” per se, but her sentiment nevertheless registers a wider, more philosophical point. Most successes in life are attributed to might and/or talent, and the same is true in sports. Football is a game of power, of domination. Even casual fans know that football games are won “in the trenches,” where bigger and stronger linemen take control of the line of scrimmage. Similarly, basketball games are often won “above the rim,” where only the most athletic players are able to compete. It’s not surprising, then, that “football gods” or “basketball gods” are rarely invoked. These are games in which “fortune” or “luck” are considered generally avoidable, so long as a team’s personnel and coaching are good enough. “Sure, luck means a lot in football,” legendary Miami Dolphins head coach Don Shula once joked, “Not having a good quarterback is bad luck.”

The concept of “moneyball” sought to introduce this way of thinking to baseball, suggesting that it’s possible to eliminate chance with appropriate evaluation and strategy. “True outcomes” (i.e., results not involving on-field “accidents” such as bad hops or unexpected weather) became favored among baseball front offices; quantitative metrics (e.g., exit velocity, spin rate, induced vertical movement, etc.) emerged as essential ingredients in player evaluation. Yet, what the 2022 Phillies demonstrated—in a way that perhaps only a baseball team could—is that this techno-scientific model contains significant flaws. There are contributions that cannot be measured; there are outcomes that cannot be predicted; there are influences that cannot be seen. In a culture saturated with information and numbers, it is easy to forget these truths. Indeed, in some quarters, these truths are considered downright offensive. But it seems that this is precisely the problem. As the 2022 Phillies showed, “moneyball” can only reveal so much, can only take a team so far. Achievement is far too dense and interlaced to be reduced to a set of data points. In the end, it’s not just that the “gods” can’t be erased; it’s that they are needed.

Years ago, Bill James, one of the pioneers of statistical analysis (“sabermetrics”) in baseball, attempted to develop a series of numerical standards predictive of induction into the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Despite his life’s work, he ultimately concluded that this was an impracticable endeavor:

I have spent all of my life, sad as it may sound, learning to understand baseball records. If I couldn’t make up standards which are fair and comprehensive, who could? And I don’t feel that I could. There are simply too many things in the game of baseball which are not measured, are poorly measured, are still in the process of being measured. … Statistical analysis is simply one more way of understanding the game of baseball.

I’m not sure if James has written on the 2022 Phillies—a quick Google search suggests not—but this quotation indicates that he would not be astonished by the team’s success. I suspect that he would smile and, with nary a thought to its ontological meaning, simply say, “That’s baseball.”

1. On November 5, the Phillies bowed out to the Houston Astros in Game Six of the World Series—a disappointing outcome, to be sure, but not one that detracts from the team’s postseason heroics or the gist of this post. In fact, the World Series brought two more incredible Phillies wins, including a Game One that will go down as one of the best comebacks in World Series history.