Major League Baseball is preparing for a pandemic-and-hubris schedule buzzsawed to 60 games, putting teams and players in a unique position: A short season.
 
You don’t have to consult a mathematician to know that 60 games is significantly less than 162. Nor is a numerologist necessary to determine the shorter season behaves a lot differently than a longer schedule. How? Speaking as someone who (cough!) should (cough!) be in his 13th season calling games in Rookie-level short-season Minor League Baseball, where seasons last no longer than 76 games, allow me to offer some insight.
 
 
1. You can’t win a playoff spot in the first two weeks, but you can lose it.
A Rookie-league team that sputters through the first 15 or so games will wind up playing out the string. There just aren’t enough games to make up for a slow start. On the other hand, a good start -- say, at or above .500 at the one-third mark -- guarantees nothing, but puts a team in a position to contend in the final four weeks.
 
2. Are your starting pitchers giving you the innings you need?
In Rookie ball, starters are usually limited to 5-6 innings. That’s to spare young arms, with player development emphasized over winning now.
That doesn't translate to MLB, of course, but pitchers are coming off an 8-9 month layoff and have just three weeks to get into form. Starters may be put on strict pitch-count limits, especially in the first half of the season, so those that make the most of their pitches and work deep into games will provide great value to their teams.  

3. How good’s your bullpen?
Teams in player development leagues carry more players on their rosters than in The Show, to give as many players as possible a chance to play. The Appalachian League (my old stomping grounds) allows teams to carry 35 players on their roster and 30 to dress for any given game, and usually at least 15 are pitchers.
Once the season starts it doesn’t take long for a bullpen to sort itself out; the pecking order can make itself clear in as little as a week. You’ll know who can get outs and who can’t.
But, in a player development league, even the worst relievers are going to get regular work -- a situation we could see in MLB, especially early in the season. If the back-of-the-back-end guys can minimize the badness of their bad outings and ease the burden on the top arms, the entire pitching staff benefits and will have more in the tank for the stretch run.
 
4. It’s still a grind.
The Appy League regular season of 68 games is barely over 40% of an MLB schedule. But it's still demanding. It's worth noting that players on Rookie-league teams have been hard at work for months well before the season starts – either in their final college or high school seasons, or at extended spring training, where some players report as early as March 1. There are dog days in short-season ball.
The upcoming MLB season won’t be exactly like that, with the extra-long off-season and shortened spring training, but teams and players will still run into a wall. How they push through will make or break a season.
 
5. Enjoy the statistical flukes. They’ll make a difference.
One of the fun parts of the early stretch of a typical baseball season is seeing who gets off to ridiculous starts. Will someone be hitting .400 after the first month? Hit 10 home runs in the first eight games? Which pitcher wins his first five starts with a microscopic ERA/OBA/RAA/FIP/WHIP/RAA?
In a short season, a hot start puts teams in a position to contend (and gets guys promoted). Conversely, the long MLB season mandates that hot starts invariably cool – but that doesn’t apply this year. Guys who produce partial career years out of the blue can lift expected back-markers to the front.
 
6. Who emerges from the woodwork?
In Rookie ball, high draft picks and big-money signings play nearly every day, about 5-6 out of every seven games. Low-round picks and free agents get much less playing time – maybe once or twice a week. It’s difficult for them to play their way into a regular spot. But as a season goes along, injuries can happen or top prospects can fade, opening the door for a lesser-known players. Previously unknown guys can make a huge difference.
Like Connor Hollis. Signed as a non-drafted free agent 2018 after the Appy League season started, he was assigned to Princeton and slashed .365/.469/.553, winning the batting title and helping the P-Rays reach the league championship series.
Or Carter Burgess. Drafted in the 28th round in 2014, he hit .270 for Princeton over the first two months of the season. But he caught fire in August, slashing .371/.397/.500 as the Rays won at a .655 clip to take their first East Division championship in 16 years. (He’s more widely known for this, however.)
 
Short seasons are just different. Then again, so is 2020.
 
 

Background Story (courtesy Grantland.com)

Originally published on the 'Kyle Cooper: Sportscaster' Facebook page, 9 September 2014

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(Full disclosure: I'm a Milwaukee Brewers fan, born and raised. The 2014 season hasn't been an easy one.)

Baseball is indeed a grind. An all-day, everyday grind.

There's not a team at any level of baseball that doesn't go through a stretch like Milwaukee endured in late August and early September. Timing dictates whether a slump is a nuisance or a season-killer -- a 10-game slide in April isn't as damaging as an seven-game skid in September -- but there's no ironclad method to stop a slump. If there was, slumps would be nipped in the bud.

It's the timing of Milwaukee's slide that made it feel so final and fatal. When St. Louis left Miller Park September 7, it had dropped Milwaukee five games out of the NL Central lead with 19 to go, effectively smothering the Brewers' division hopes. The two teams were careening in very different directions.

Two days later, Milwaukee found itself 1.5 games out of the final Wild Card spot with 18 left. On the surface, it was a much more manageable deficit -- except that the Wild Card holders (San Francisco and Pittsburgh) have those intangibles of "focus," "chemistry" and "momentum" in the dugout with them. The Brewers no longer feel like a playoff contender. Bearing that in mind, Milwaukee might have had to start looking at young players who might be able to help the club next year.

What could turn around Milwaukee's September? Again, if the answer was easy someone would have offered it by now, but a short-term remedy would have been one sharp game. An ace-like performance from the starting pitcher, tight defense, timely hitting, the usual stuff; cliched as it sounds, one good day can snap a team back in the right direction.

But that sharp had to happen soon. Otherwise, the next time Charlie Pierce writes about the Brewers, it'll be part of his 2015 season preview.

Background Story (courtesy Chicago Tribune)

Originally published on the 'Kyle Cooper: Sportscaster' Facebook page, 18 September 2014

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It's a recurring topic among baseball announcers: "Jinxing" a no-hitter. To me, it's a recurring waste of time.

Some announcers go great lengths to avoid getting anywhere near saying a pitcher has a potential no-no going. Others don't feel the need to be circumspect. Put me in the latter category.

At its essence, calling a baseball game is the purest form of reporting (especially on the radio). It's the announcer's job to pass along events as they happen, in real time. That includes putting the action into context -- the game's pace allows plenty of time for it -- which may involve mentioning if a pitcher is on the verge of making history. You're doing the listeners an absolute disservice by not bringing it up.

You may also come off as clueless. A Major League pitcher getting near a no-hitter would be all over social media (especially Twitter); pretending not to know it would call into question an announcer's cognitive abilities.

To put it another way: In 2013, I was fortunate enough to call a game in which a player (Missoula Osprey catcher Jose Queliz) hit for the cycle. When Jose made his last plate appearance needing a single, it would have been ludicrous for me not to mention it. So I did. A lot. And he went out and bounced a base hit up the middle. He wasn't jinxed.

To put it another another way: In 2009, I was fortunate enough to call a no-hitter -- a 7-inning gem thrown by Danville's Cory Rasmus, at Princeton, on August 11. The D-Braves were on their way to a 13-0 blowout, so Rasmus' no-hit bid was the only drama left.
When he got to the last inning with the no-hit bid intact, I made it very clear what he was trying to accomplish, and reminded everyone as he got the first out, then the second. Then he closed it out. He wasn't jinxed.

Would an NBA announcer not mention if a player was getting close to breaking Wilt Chamberlain's 100-point record? Would an NFL announcer not mention if a player had a chance to tie or break the Gale Sayers/Ernie Nevers/Dub Jones record of six touchdowns in a game?

They would not.

Nor would anyone criticize them for bringing it up.