Well, it’s hard to separate “thinking they’re better” from just liking or disliking a player. I absolutely despise Lyle Overbay. Technically I guess he was an okay hitter last year; his numbers were not terrible, but I still dreaded his appearances because I just hate him and dread filled me whenever he stepped to the plate.
Of course, there’s also the fact that the stats just aren’t perfect, especially when it comes to fielding. The stats say that Jose Bautista is a terrible fielder but I have to admit I’m skeptical; he looks good to me. If there was some supporting evidence Bautista was a bad fielder maybe my mind would be changed, but it’s just that UZR et al. say one thing and yet he looks fine. If anything the supporting eidence kind of backs me up (Bautista’s team won more games than the analytical stats say they should have - a sign something is being missed somewhere, and the something could very well be fielding.)
That said, there’s sch a long history of fielding stats being wrong, that might just be geekery. When the methods of the 1990s said Roberto Alomar was the Worst Second Baseman Evar!!!111! I just didn’t for an instant believe them. He was visibly NOT a bad second baseman, and the surrounding information just seemed really weird, most notable the fact that the methods of the time claimed Alomar was a fine fielder in 1988-1990 with the Padres, and a fine fielder 1996-on with the Orioles, but somehow, in the prime of his career and for no explained reason, sucked in between in Toronto. That screams “illusion of context,” doesn’t it? And yet a lot of stats geeks simply would not budge from the methods of the time, insisting they had to be right.
I’m not sure I believe the numbers now. While looking up various assessment of Robbie Alomar’s defense, I looked up some of his teams. According to WARP, the 1993 Toronto Blue Jays was basically no better a fielding team than a Triple-A ballclub; collectively all their fielders were just 1.4 games better than a team of replacement level players with the glove. Amazingly, according to WARP, the best defensive player on the Blue Jays was Devon White. Okay, no surprise there, but the second best was… Rob Butler. Rob Butler, who played a grand total of 113 innings (about 13 games) in the outfield, making 32 catches, one error and no assists, was worth the better part of a game over a replacement player. In just 13 games. The rest of the team were mostly sub-major-league-quality fielders. This was, mind you, the World Series champion, a team that sure as hell LOOKED like they could field the ball.
Well, I don’t believe those numbers for an instant. They’re fucking insane. Rob Butler, in 113 innings and with no other evidence to suggest it, was equal in defensive skill to Willie Mays, and one of the only good fielders on the best team in the league? Ed Sprague was a better fielder than Roberto Alomar? I’m sorry, but I am absolutely convinced the metrics are wrong.
The problem is I still qualify for my geek hat because I can prove they’re wrong. Here’s another problem I see. According to the WARP method the Blue Jays (95-67) were 42.4 wins above replacement level - 27.8 from their hitters, 13.2 from their pitchers, 1.4 from the fielders, led by Devon White and Rob Butler. Okay.
Let us now examine the Baltimore Orioles (85-77.) It seems to me that, since the Orioles won 10 fewer games, they should be “worth” 10 fewer WARP. They played in the same league and in the same division, so that just makes sense, right? But no; according to WARP, the Orioles were 37.4 WARP.
That makes no sense to me. If the Blue Jays won 95 games and the Orioles won 85, the total value of Blue Jay players has to add up to 95 wins, and the total value of Orioles players has to add up to 85 (or however many WARP those win totals are above replacement level.) Value is winning. You cannot logically say a team that won ten fewer games was worth just five fewer games. They obviously were not.
I think some of that missing value was in Robbie Alomar’s glove.