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October 22, 2009

Prospectus Hit and Run

Rotation Exasperation

by Jay Jaffe

Vicente Padilla's chariot turned back into a pumpkin last night. An unlikely hero of the Dodgers' playoff run via his two previous starts, he joined Game One starter Clayton Kershaw and Game Three starter Hiroki Kuroda in failing to survive five innings against the Phillies' offensive juggernaut. For the second year in a row, the Dodgers were unceremoniously bounced from the National League Championship Series in five games. Wait 'til next year, redux.

It didn't have to be that way for the Dodgers, who came into the series as the favorites among a broad consensus of writers, gamblers, simulators, and moral degenerates thanks to their home-field advantage, fewer questions about their pitching staff, and more righty hitters and lefty pitchers to counter the Phillies' ample supply of lefties. Dodger manager Joe Torre made a hash of his rotation, however, and far more often than not, the pitchers he entrusted failed to deliver. Consider the two rotations' performances:

Team         IP   H   HR   BB  SO   ERA
Dodgers     21.2  22   6   10  15  8.72
Philllies   30.2  24   6    4  22  2.93

The Dodgers had four full days of rest between playoff rounds, giving Torre the chance to align his rotation to the best advantage, so that line above constitutes epic failure in both planning and execution. Subtract Padilla's Game Two gem as well as that of his opposing pitcher, Pedro Martinez, and the two ERAs become 13.19 and 3.80. If you're the Dodgers, it should go without saying that that's no way to win a pennant.

The problem, ultimately, is that as strong as their rotation was—and they finished with the league's second-best ERA and tied for third in SNLVAR—the Dodgers lacked a true number-one starter who could be depended upon to pitch deep into a ballgame come hell or high water and to make multiple starts in a competitive series (i.e., one longer than four games). The 21-year old Kershaw and 24-year-old Chad Billingsley, who was bypassed for a start, may both eventually develop into studs, but neither of them is there yet. Randy Wolf, the Dodgers' most dependable starter this year, isn't that stud, either. To expect Kuroda, whose 2008 postseason performance outweighed his recent health woes in Torre's eyes, or Padilla, a free-talent pickup whose ERA has been six percent worse than the park-adjusted league average over the past six years, to rise and to live up to such expectations was simply asking too much.

In the end it was a classic illustration of the way depth matters less in the postseason than it does in the regular season. In an alternate universe, either Billingsley or playoff-tested Jon Garland could have gotten the call as well, with no more certainty of results, and no less hand-wringing. With six starters to choose from and several competing factors—injuries, platoon splits, late-season performance, and postseason experience—which made identifying their current capabilities a more difficult task. It's at least marginally understandable how a manager could fumble around without finding the sticker that read, "This End Up." But those managers unable to sort out such simple packaging issues are the marginal ones. They don't win championships.