Can we all finally agree that “clutch” is a made up thing like ghosts and dinosaurs? #whithercarleverett?
This Tweet came in response to something I wrote about David Wright the Unclutch doubling to lead off the bottom of the ninth with the game tied yesterday.
What the Tweeter in question is referring to, you may know, is that all the evidence we can gather so far discredits the idea that certain baseball players are inherently more “clutch” than others.
Because of a few particular moments, Derek Jeter is labeled clutch, and since he has that label we confirmation-bias the hell out of every hit he gets in a big spot. David Wright is labeled, by some, to be unclutch, and so many choose to overlook hits like the last night’s ninth-inning double.
I am preaching to the choir on this one, I think. But some quick info for those for whom this is new: The amazing website baseball-reference.com charts players’ stats in low-, medium- and high-leverage situations. They define leverage index as such:
Within a game, there are plays that are more pivotal than others. We attempt to quantify these plays with a stat called leverage index (LI). LI looks at the possible changes in win probability in a give situation and situations where dramatic swings in win probability are possible (runner on second late in a tie game) have higher LI’s than situations where there can be no large change in win probability (late innings of a 12-run blowout).
Across his career, David Wright can boast a stellar .303/.382/.514 batting line. In 954 plate appearances in high-leverage situations — the ones most important to the outcome of the game — he has a very similar .316/.388/.523 line.
Derek Jeter’s career line is .313/.384/.450. In high-leverage situations, it’s .315/.396/.428.
Click around baseball-reference.com and you’ll find that most players, with enough exposure to all situations, turn out to hit pretty much the same in clutch situations as they do in all others. It makes sense, too: If a player could willfully become better in certain spots, why would he not opt to be better in all spots? If the pressure in late-game situations compels him to focus harder and succeed more often, why is the pressure of playing televised professional baseball in front of thousands of screaming fans insufficient at all other times?
And that’s kind of the thing. A lot of people use this evidence to say that no player is clutch, but I think actually all players are clutch. To make the Major Leagues, you need to shoulder an enormous amount of pressure because baseball is, at its core, a game that demands individual success in the center of attention.
Plenty of people come up to bat with the game on the line in Little League, can’t handle the gravity of the situation, panic, strike out and cry. But they don’t make the bigs.
Certainly, players likely endure stretches when the game does get to their head, when they do “press” in big spots, when they do fail. But one of the mental requirements of Major League play is the ability to move past failure, since in baseball, as you know, that is inevitable.
So players wind up hitting about as well in clutch situations as they do in all others.
Tedquarters 