Re: How I’d Fix the Islanders

A followup to 2008’s How I’d Fix the Islanders, after a visit to Nassau Coliseum over Thanksgiving Break this year.

Girls: The Ice Breakers are gone. Good riddance. The Ice Girls are still around, but as they’re tasked with cleaning up the ice during commercial breaks, at least they’re functional.

T-Shirts: The T-shirt Tommy Gun is gone, but the tee overabundance remains. I caught a shirt during the first intermission, bringing our family total to three tees in the past two games.

Polite Ushers: The ushers didn’t bother us. We bought four tickets at face value, and one in the nosebleeds. To no one’s surprise, there was no problem seating all five of us together down in the lower levels.

That said, pricing on said one general admission nosebleed seats hovered around $40. That’s the cheapest ticket in a half-empty stadium? Maybe someone’s gotten wise to the fact that folks are just going to come in and sit wherever they please.

New “Goal!” Cheer: It’s different again this year. Still incomprehensible. Better than ’08’s “Hey, you suck!” What the heck was wrong with Rock & Roll pt. 2?

Free Chili: It worked, I guess. Folks in our section were legitimately excited about the Isles scoring a third goal. Too bad we only won 2-0 and snapped a 14-game losing streak. I think everyone left disappointed.

Victory Plan: Haven’t seen any word of it. Too bad; I thought this idea was brilliant.

Tailgating, fighting gloves, tagging the visiting team’s best player: No word, yet. But I mean, I don’t know if it’s wholly reasonable to expect the Islanders to keep tabs on the best blog on the whole entire internet.

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Now, onto some new business:

Door Prizes: Every now and again, just after passing through the stadium gates at a sporting event, you’ll be greeted with a promotional freebie – a hat, umbrella, keychain, whatever. I’ve actually once received a full-size Louisville Slugger at a Mets Game. As for the Islanders? I walked in and was immediately handed a 4×6 ad flyer for electronics at PC Richard. Yuck.

T-Shirts: Seems to me that the only time anyone’s motivated to stand up and cheer is once the t-shirt launchers are on the rink. Why not shoot them off after goals?

WiFi: Several times throughout the game, the Jumbotron ran ads for Optimium Wifi, excitedly explaining that you could connect your smartphone or laptop to available free wifi during the game. Really? Who’s bringing their laptop to games? And we’re encouraging this?

Mass Transit: This one’s a biggie.

How are you supposed to get to an Islanders game if you don’t have a car? This only occurred to me last game after a year and a half of experience driving all over St. Louis, or taking public transit whenever I needed to. What if you don’t want to drive? Or pay $10 for parking? (By the way—$10 for parking?)

I did some basic internet research, and found this quote from a Nassau Coliseum Yelp review:

Getting there EVEN FROM MANHATTAN, is like the plot to the Steve Martin + John Candy classic: Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. 1) Subway to Penn Station, 2) LIRR to Hempstead, 3) N70 to outside the arena, 4) 1/4 mile walk to arena. Really? Am I in Cleveland yet?

Some follow-up research on Google Maps suggests that the transit from Penn Station to the Coliseum will take between 1.5-2 hours each way. Why would anyone living in the downtown NYC Metro area ever consider going to an Islanders game instead of a Rangers game?

You’re a thirty or forty minute drive east of perhaps the biggest hive of sports fanatics in the western world, and it’s nigh impossible for any of them to show up for a game. What a disaster. Why not set up a bus service from downtown direct to the coliseum? How hard and how expensive could that be? Getting people to the game has to be about as important as putting on a good show once they get there, no?

I can’t think of any other professional sports team that has this problem. Granted, I’ve never visited the Columbus Blues Jackets. But I mean, the Memphis Grizzlies are a few minutes’ walk away from Beale Street. The Cardinals, Blues, and Rams are all in the heart of downtown St. Louis. The Cubs and WhiteSox each have their own stops labelled on the metro line. The Mets are reasonably far out from downtown NY, but New Shea Stadium is right on the 7 line, and the team actively promotes taking the train during every game.

I know there’s currently a big movement pushing for the Islanders to get a new arena. I hope they keep the mass transit-ers in mind.

(I wonder if I’m going to end up working for a transit company once I grow up. I keep finding problems here that seem to have easy solutions. They pay money for fixing stuff like this, right?)

Jerseys: From my post on the Pittsburgh Steelers:

Maybe 95% of the Pittsburghians fans wear a black (home) jersey. Even the Steelers’ 3rd Jersey is black & gold in color. Everyone wears black and gold. The result is overwhelming—for opposing teams, and for any poor fans who aren’t part of the tribe yet. It’s as if you’ve got to buy a jersey as a prerequisite for buying a ticket.

On the other hand, maybe (generously) 15% of the fans at the Islanders game show up in uniform. Dad’s comfortable wearing an Islanders windbreaker, Zach’s in street clothes. Mom and I are in uniform, but I’m wearing orange and she’s wearing blue.

I’ve already talked about how a uniform sea of uniforms (hah!) makes for a more intimidating environment for opponents. We could talk about how putting on your uniform psychologically amps you up for the game and ties you closer to the team. So instead, how about we drive jersey wears, jersey sales, and ticket sales all at once? How about a 10% discount on tickets to anyone wearing a uniform? Or, since that’d be hard to measure with online sales, a voucher given out at the door to anyone in jersey for 20% off their next game?

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Maybe, someday, the Islanders will put together a team decent enough to keep my attention on the game and away from all of the marketing things they could be doing better.

Eating the Dinosaur

Chuck Klosterman’s Eating the Dinosaur has taught me some interesting things about football.

On Texas Tech coach Mike Leach:

The Red Raiders play football the way eleven-year-old boys play Xbox: They throw on almost every down, they only punt when the situation is desparate, and they’ll call the same play over and over and over again.

…What’s the secret to his brilliance? [According to Leach,] “There’s two ways to make it more complex for the defense…One is to have a whole bunch of different plays, but that’s no good because the offense experiences as much complexity as the defense. Another is a small number of plays run out of lots of different formations. That way, you don’t have to teach a guy a new thing to do.  You just have to teach him a new place to stand.”

On coach Bill Walsh:

Bill Walsh, the architect of the San Francisco 49ers dynasty…built the West Coast offense on an interesting combination of mathematics and psychology: He realized that any time a team rushed for four yards on the ground, the play was viewed as a success. However, any time a team completed a pass that gained four yards, the defense assumed they had made a successful stop. Walsh understood that the two situations were identical. By viewing the passing game as a variant of the running game, he changed everything about how football is played.

I really enjoyed reading about the evolution of football both as a game and as an organization. I love how individual games can be overwhelmingly affected—if not controlled—by a visionary coach (in baseball, seems as though the most any manager is responsible for is calling for steals and sacrifice bunts). I love that the meta game follows its visionaries and evolves over time, resulting in a game today that utilizes the read option (wildcat!) on offense and zone blitz on defense from a game that originally didn’t even have a forward pass. I loved learning that the West Coast offense has a sound psychological foundation (my old take on it: “That’s stupid. How can that work?4 yard passes aren’t effective.”) And I look forward to the day when the NFL adopts the strategy of largely abandoning the punt.

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Most of the rest of the book is decidedly not about sports (topics range from laughing Germans to Garth Brooks). It’s weird, and random, and I’m not totally sure any of it is connected or even makes sense.  I’d recommend borrowing it from the library. Or reading the football chapter while sitting in the lobby of a Barnes & Noble.

Fantasy Baseball Champion

Add this one to my legacy: Fantasy Baseball Champion.

And in the event that the link breaks down, text copied below.

Fantasy Baseball Champ is crowned!

Congratulations to Josh Petersel as he is crowned the first ever Posters Series Champion for winning our In-House Fantasy Baseball Playoffs

The players Josh rode to the championship were highlighted by Nelson Cruz, Tim Lincecum, Cole Hamels, and Evan Longoria.

As champion, Josh receives

1) limo ride to and from an STL Blues game along with 4 tickets for the game.

2) trip for 2 to Vegas

3) team name engraved into the bar trophy.

Congratulations Josh and we hope to see everyone competing again next year!

I’d like to thank all my pals who gave help and advice along the way.  I’ve got a heaping bar tab waiting for you.  I want to thank my mom, my dad, my kids, God, Morgan Freeman, and Yahoo! Sports; without your undying love, support, and inspiration such a feat would not have been possible.

Acceptance speeches are silly.  Trips to Vegas, however, are serious business.

Steelers & Tecmo Super Bowl

 

I’m a huge Pittsburgh Steelers fan. There’s a great reason why: Rod Woodson.

Once upon a time, I was little. And owned a Super Nintendo, and with that a game called Tecmo Super Bowl. Though predecessor Tecmo Bowl’s Bo Jackson gets most of the internet fame, Pittsburgh Steeler Rod Woodson possessed similar ability in the Super Nintendo counterpart. He was fast, and great at returning kickoffs. So I always played as the Steelers.  As such, when the time came around for me to start following real professional football, who was I going to root for? The Jets?

Some thoughts from my recent brush with Steeler Nation and Heinz Field.

The bad:

  • How are there modern scoreboards that aren’t equipped with an unending waterfall of statistics? At Heinz, it’s difficult to tell what down it is. Downright impossible to check on scores from around the league. Forget about listing individual stats for fantasy purposes. I shouldn’t have to check my smartphone for that junk.
  • Mom puts it eloquently, “You know what’s hard about this? They don’t have the  yellow lines on the field.” Which I thought was cute. Relatedly: I will never, ever understand the logic of the chain system referees to check for ball placement and close first downs. Aren’t first downs just arbitrarily determined by wherever the guy in back drops his length of the chain first, leaving enough room or not enough slack for the ball to reach the first down marker? Can coaches challenge this?
  • Nobody walked around selling concessions the entire game. I don’t know if this was such a bad thing—I’m not big into stadium snacks after my obligatory hotdog and diet coke before sitting down.  Just thought it was interesting.

The good:

  • Downtown Pittsburgh is crazy on gameday.  Everyone—EVERYONE—is wearing a Steelers jersey. I’m told this phenomenon actually typically starts on Fridays, even though games are on Sunday. Are the Steelers more popular than The Beatles?
  • Good-er: Maybe 95% of the Pittsburghians fans wear a black (home) jersey.  Even the Steelers’ 3rd Jersey is black & gold in color.  Everyone wears black and gold.  The result is overwhelming—for opposing teams, and for any poor fans who aren’t part of the tribe yet. It’s as if you’ve got to buy a jersey as a prerequisite for buying a ticket.  On the other hand, the Mets seem to have twelve different jersey colors—I’ve at least seen orange, bright blue, black, grey, white, and pinstripe—and I feel like the Islanders come out with another set of jerseys every second year.  As a result, I’m just as comfortable showing up to an Islanders game wearing only an Isles hat to show team pride.  But I wouldn’t dare come within ten miles of Heinz Field without my Steeler threads.
  • The Steelers managed to go an entire game without some stupid giveaway, freebie, anything.  No bouncy girls frolicking around.  No Pepsi Party Patrol shooting t-shirts into the stands with a laser-guided cannon or a tommy gun.  No Play-MatchGame-and-Win-a-$20-HomeDepot-Giftcard TV timeout games. No kiss cam. Just football.  And when we needed a distraction during halftime, Pop Warner football.  The message: If football isn’t enough to keep you entertained during a football game, go home.  I was proud.

Ultimatley, what I’d do if I owned a sports team:

  1. Own a color (scheme).  You’re not caught dead in downtown Pittsburgh without wearing black & gold. Or anywhere around Indiana University without wearing crimson on gameday. Different variations are okay, but they can’t throw off the whole theme. Everyone wearing black and gold was a part of Steeler Nation—something greater than a stadium crowd on Sunday.
  2. For that matter, avoid orange.  The Islanders, Mets, Knicks, Bengals, Browns, Broncos, Bears, Orioles, Tigers, Bobcats, Oilers. The San Francisco Giants, and maybe the Philadelphia Flyers, are the only decent clubs of the bunch. I’d rather try my luck with picking up a color all to myself.  You can spot Yankees Blue, Packers Green, or Vikings Purple from a mile away.
  3. Embrace the Fantasy Sports generation.  Give the fan every stat, all the time.  Give him no reason to check my phone for updates after an incomplete pass. Could you somehow reward him for drafting players on the local club? Hell, let him do his draft at the stadium! (Related: <a title=”The Post in Maplewood, St. Louis does all of this.  They kill it.)

I can’t wait to go back.

Yankees Statistics

“They buy their championships!”

That’s something you hear a lot about the Yankees.  Particularly from Mets fans, and Red Sox fans.  I pity the Orioles enough that I don’t blame their fanbase for complaining.

But here’s a statistic worth sharing.  Or if you’re not in the mood to click links or read articles: Of the eight teams in baseball that draw the most revenue, the Yankees spend the least on their player payroll as a percentage of revenue.  Only 46.8% of their income goes towards paying Jeter & co.  The Red Sox, on the other hand, spend 61% of their revenues on David Ortiz (and, I might add, his fat butt).  The average team in baseball spends 46.4% of their revenue on players – so in fact, you could argue that the Yankees’ payroll is right around average.

Also of interest, via a note from the author in the comments section: “The Yankees owe a lot of money on the new Stadium, and this debt DOES effectively reduce what the Yankees would otherwise pay in revenue sharing.”  Or in other words, not only do I have to put up with New Yankee Stadium, but in some perverse sense, the Baltimore Orioles get to help pay for it.  Cheers, guys!

So, in sum: The Yankees don’t buy championships, they buy good business.  But that doesn’t mean they aren’t assholes.

Playing the Percentages

Through Bill Simmons’ latest column, I found this awesome math & probability article on ESPN detailing Bill Belichick’s controversial 4th-and-2 play call last week.  I thought I’d touch on it with some thoughts from a business/decision making/organizational-supply-chain-management perspective.

Context:  Patriots’ ball on their own 29-yard line, winning by 6 points, just over two minutes to go.

Objective: Maximize Patriots’ probability of winning the football agme.

Decision Tree:

Read: I didn't feel like stealing a fresh copy of Photoshop

Thought I’d dust off Microsoft Paint for a change

How to read this:  Belichick has to decide whether he wants to go for it on 4th-and-2.  Each circle represents a point of action that’s out of his control (it’s in Tom Brady’s), and each square represents a point where the ball changes hands (it’s in Peyton Manning’s).  If Belichick decides to Punt, he gives Manning control – and if the Colts score, the Patriots lose.  If Belichick decides to Play, he gives Brady control.  If Brady converts (and further, if they hold the ball), the Patriots win.  If Brady doesn’t convert, Manning takes control, and if the Colts score, the Patriots lose.

How to interpret this:  As per the article, if the Patriots punt and give the Colts the ball deep in their own territory, the Patriots’ probability of winning is 79%. Or in other words, there’s only a 21% likelihood that Manning can take the ball all the way downfield in around two minutes and score a touchdown.  (Though, given how Manning has been playing this season, you could argue this is a lowball estimate.)

But if they play, we know the probability of converting based on empirical data is 55.7%.  And assuming the Pats are able to convert the 4th down (putting us at the top-most circle in the diagram), there’s a 92% chance that they’ll be able to hold the ball for the win.  If not, the Colts have a 34% likelihood that they’ll drive for the touchdown – giving the Patriots 66% odds of winning in that situation.

Working backwards: Putting the ball in Brady’s hands gives the Patriots a 55.7% chance of winning 92% of the time, and a 44.3% chance of winning 66% of the time.  Their overall odds of winning the game by giving Brady the ball, therefore, are 80.5% (92*.557+66*.443).  Which is better (sliiigghtly) than letting the punter do his thing.

But the science of management and organizational behavior deals with way more than just numbers.  There are an infinite number of intangibles.  On the one hand, this basic calculation doesn’t consider dozens of other minute possibilities (consider that the Pats convert the 4th down but then can’t hold the ball – we’d still need to figure out the odds of the Colts driving to score).  Or maybe Belichick had a feeling that his punter wouldn’t be able to kick effectively (I’m envisioning the second-to-last play from the movie The Replacements – skip to around 7:30), and that therefore, the win probability from punting the ball was strikingly lower than it seemed at the surface.  Who knows.

But most importantly, it’s awfully tough to justify at what was probably the most critical point in the Pats’ game – if not, their entire season.  Belichick wagered big – and lost big.  There’s already been a ton of fallout from fans, press, and I can only imagine, from the players too.  A good manager should know that sometimes the highest-percentage play isn’t always the smartest – sort of like how you probably wouldn’t bet $100 for a 1-in-1000 chance to win 100,001.  You win overall (by a dollar!) if you make the bet every time, but maybe you’re better off taking the safe route and pocketing the $100.  Or, in Belichick’s case, saving face and letting Manning win the game instead of losing it for himself (@2:00 in).

The All-Star Game Shuffle

In honor of the All-Star Game today, a re-post of an awesome idea I came up with for last summer’s summer classic while working on my old website.

I’m going to spend the entire day lounging around at Pi. President Obama will be throwing out the first pitch of the game, and rumor has it, Pi is his favorite pizza place in St. Louis (the country?).  Celebrity sighting?  Let’s hope for the best.

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[Originally posted July 2008, updated with some grammar and shoe shine]

Let’s have some fun with the All-Star Game.

No matter how many times Bud Selig wants to give the AL home-field advantage in the World Series, the All-Star Game (like the rest of the weekend) should be first and foremost about having fun and giving back to the fans. One of my most striking All-Star Game memories was a Larry Walker at-bat in the late ’90s, against an ornery Randy Johnson. Johnson accidentally lets a fastball rip nearly a foot over Walker’s head (and I stress accidentally, because RJ probably wanted to place the ball a lot closer). Walker then calls timeout, and for the first time in his career, walks to the other side of the plate and bats righty. His helmet doesn’t even have the ear protection on that side, so he flips it and wears it backwards. It was as bizarre as it was awesome.

The All-Star Game is a rare opportunity for all of the best talent in baseball to be together on the field at the same time (besides, of course, any time the Yankees, Mets, and Red Sox play each other). The team managers obviously realize this, and attempt to capitalize by substituting players every three innings or so. But they’re doing it all wrong. Here’s how they could be doing it better:

First, the All-Star Game starters should NOT start the game, they should end it. I think we’re stuck with the asinine player substitution system, which leads to Chase Utley on the bench, cheering on Dan Uggla in extra innings.  Somehow, we managed to make it through 70-plus ASGs that had a few players dress but sit on the bench. How did we get by as a society then?  Josh Hamilton barely got the chance this year to dazzle us with another one of his epic bomb home runs we saw in the derby. So at the very least, let’s get into the habit of bringing the starters in for the 7th inning stretch, not the last backups. We know that that’s when the real game starts, so we should get to see the real rosters play it. I think Bill Simmons wrote about this at some point.

But assuming that this concept is too difficult for our lovely Commissioner to handle (or, perhaps, he’s too busy drawing himself gigantic paychecks), let’s have some more fun with the substitutions. I think one clever manager should substitute his entire roster at once. While they’re in the field (the pitcher, too). And definitely in the middle of an at-bat, preferrably in a clutch situation. Imagine the look of fear (or is that confusion?) on Evan Longoria’s face when, two strikes into an at-bat with the bases loaded, the entire National League defense trots off the field and is substituted. Now imagine the look of joy on every fan watching the antics on TV. It’s a one- or two-time use stunt, topps, but the level of hilarity in a baseball game is unprecedented. And because of the smaller roster sizes during the regular season, there’s literally no other opportunity during the season to perform a Nonuple Switch (TM). Amazingly, “nonuple” is actually a word.

Another fun opportunity rarely afforded to us fans with skewed senses of humor is the chance to see players play out of position, with little repercussion. I remember back in 2002; the American League roster had a whopping five shortstops: the three-headed monster of A-Rod, Jeter, and Nomar topping the list, with Vizquel and Tejada rounding out the list. How many people watching the game wouldn’t have gladly traded their own glove to see some kind of a Nomar-Jeter-A-Rod double play? I mean, granted, us Yankee fans almost get to see that now. But it’s not the same.  What about an All-Short Stop infield? I bet you could convince Vizquel to don a catcher’s mask for half an inning.

But you can go even further. I wonder, what would David Ortiz look like at Second Base for an inning? (I’d rather see Ken Harvey play there…but I’d be utterly shocked if any of you would recognize a Ken Harvey / Second Base reference.) I bet you Papi wouldn’t mind, if that wrist of his ever got healthy. Even better, let’s get some of those position players onto the pitchers mound. I know I’m not the only one who fondly remembers the day Mark Grace took the mound for the Arizona Diamondbacks and executed a perfect Mike Fetters windup. Or watching Wade Boggs throw a pretty good knuckleball. YouTube, sadly, seems a bit more forgetful [note – found the Boggs video!].

But why not make this a highlight on center stage? What do you think David Wright’s windup would look like? We actually, sadly, came oh-so-terribly close to a J.D. Drew vs. David Wright pitching matchup in this year’s game, before Brad Lidge ruined it for everyone. Can you imagine J.D. Drew taking the mound in the 16th inning in a deadlocked game? And then the AL would have to play catchup the next inning, but they’d get to feast on Wright’s 70- or 80- something mph fastball? That’s a story you can tell your grandkids about.

Maybe those ‘85 Bears were on to something. It’s time for the All-Star Game Shuffle.

Josh Hamilton

You heard it hear first: I’m tired of all this hooplah about Josh Hamilton. Baseball’s new hero after slamming 28 homeruns in the first round of the homerun derby? No, I say baseball’s new nuisance. And he didn’t even manage to hit one out of the stadium (though boy, did he come close).

Here’s what bugs the heck out of me. Everyone–every SINGLE analyst, broadcaster, interviewer, columnist, and public figure–can only manage to describe him as “what a great story.”

Joe Morgan (or some other fool): “I’m picking Josh Hamilton in the derby today, because, you know, what a great story he is.”
Rick Reilly: “I’ve got to agree, Harold, he really is a great story.”
Peter Gammons: “I’m decrepit and too old to be doing this but people feel bad for me because I had a stroke. Josh Hamilton is a great story, though.”
Chris Berman: “And Josh Hamilton, BACK-BACK-BACK-GREAT-BACK-STORY-BACK HOMERUN!!”
Joe Morgan: greatstory greatstory greatstory greatstory greatstory greatstory greatstory greatstory greatstory greatstory greatstory greatstory asdfasdfasdfadsf
Tom Emanski: BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK AAU NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIPS but also josh hamilton is a great story

How long until the back of his jersey reads #32, Hamiltongreatstory ? He’s an exceptional ball player, but let’s be real — he pissed away 5 prime years of his playing career to drugs. If Dennis Rodman came back to basketball next week, would we call him a great story? No, we’d say “screw that guy, he is a weirdo.”

I suppose it’s better than the old scenario, though.

Everyone: Welcome to thBARRYCLEMENSSTEROIDS /headexplodes

Get back to me when they stop saying “Josh HaGreatStorymilton” and just stick with “Josh Hamilton, what a great ballplayer.” Or when he grows a Giambi*.

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*is it safe yet to refer to Giambi’s phenomenal moustache as “a Giambi”? If not then, well, you heard that one here first, too.