Norman Einstein's
ISSUE 07 (12/09)
"Pace Oddity: an Appreciation Of Zack Grienke"
by Corban Goble
[Corban is a writer based in New York City. He is the editor of Epilogue Magazine, a fourth generation Jayhawk, and Packers shareholder.]
Zack Greinke's sudden appearance in my sports universe could not have come at a better time. I was sixteen, just the age where I began taking a deep interest in the facets of Major League Baseball residing far beneath the surface. The timing of the 2002 draft, therefore, was impeccable. During this period of spiritual growth, I began to discern the importance of the endless pyramid of minor league baseball, the risk and rewards of the amateur draft, deciphering all the gears churning deep within the framework of a business that ran seemingly like any other, save for a crucial difference: this is baseball, this is important.
At the same time, I read books of baseball past - Maybe I'll Pitch Forever, Ball Four, The Bronx Zoo - famous accounts of not only the sport and male camaraderie, but of baseball's cultural context, something I still spend much of my time thinking about.
To complement these dual, distinct interests in baseball, the Royals, my favorite team by default, chose Zack Greinke sixth overall in the 2002 draft. Due to the the relative obscurity that Greinke's teeny-town Apopka, Fla. upbringing had afforded, what emerged was a low level folk hero, a pitcher that experimented with his delivery, his pace, altering his pitch speeds at will, almost reactionary to the boredom of his own dominance. Zack was truly unlike any athlete I'd followed, and I loved him for it almost instantly.
As you might know by now, a few things have happened since that, including the unlikely combination of an early 20s flirtation with retirement, year-long residence inside the home of the lone Royals Hall-of-Famer, a social anxiety disorder diagnosis, and a Cy Young Award, but I'm not writing to tell you about all of that. I'm writing about my own personal reflections involving the complex and brilliant young pitcher; a one-off memoir, of sorts.
A couple of months ago, a rumor surfaced that Zack Greinke would be dealt to the Milwaukee Brewers for a package of prospects. I, as those who know me best can attest, was impossibly irate.
The trade looked rather preposterous on paper, I admit now, but the rumor wasn't easily dismissed as Royals General Manager Dayton Moore had recently traded for Yuniesky Betancourt under the premise that he was an excellent defensive shortstop, so anything was possible.
As these rumors were quickly debunked and dispelled over the next few days, I realized that my momentary fury (I considered becoming a Yankees fan, I considered following Zack to the Brewers) leant me some good old-fashioned perspective on the many worthy components of the Zackary Donald Greinke legend and how I've grown to appreciate them.
Zack on baseball: "I can't live without baseball. It's to the point where it caused problems with my girlfriend because she knows baseball is more important than her. I say, 'Hey, I'm sorry. I love the game that much. You're not even close to being No. 1' - that's how much I love baseball. I couldn't live without it."
I see Zack Greinke as a folk hero.
Imagine Zack Greinke in a different era, barnstorming from town to town. This tour would have surely spawned a thousand different tall tales, stories about his relative indifference to throwing hard (but still doing it anyway) or homespun names for his "Bugs Bunny" curveball that occasionally resides in the low sixties. Zack throwing pitches into strategically placed coffee cans, hitting playing cards from 45 feet, missing bats with outfielders sitting on the infield grass.
Augmenting his old-soul talent, Greinke's ability mixes pleasantly with his own unique rhetoric, a Paige-ian tally of remarkable quotes, ranging from rhapsodized devastation over the Brad Pitt-Jennifer Aniston split and ruminations on his girlfriends "special mouth" that magically repels Chipotle-induced stench.
Zack Greinke's personality wasn't engineered for 2009, where the notoriously attention-shy Greinke must now answer to the multiplying media outlets covering Major League Baseball, but rather for an era long gone where the difference between reality and legend is indistinguishable.
Zack Greinke is out of place in time.
Zack on being on the cover of Sports Illustrated: "There's a lot more interesting stuff going on right now. They should have something else on the cover. Playoff basketball or something else. So it's a mistake. They'll probably sell their least amount of magazines in a long time - except when NASCAR was on the cover."
Credit: Library of Congress
I see Zack Greinke as a hero of the stathead zeitgeist and the Bannister effect
After the AL Cy Young Award announcement, a number of headlines cropped up, including the New York Times' "Use of Statistics Helps Greinke to A.L. Cy Young," which reads a little too much like "Voodoo Magic Used to Win Cy Young Award." Yes, perhaps the "win" is dead, but maybe the whole notion of the "win" as a reliable performance indicator is as outdated as crew cuts and PF Flyers.
Like the Times concedes, Greinke (and Tim Lincecum, the next day) won his award due to the visibility of statistical metrics like FIP (Fielding Independent Pitching) and WPA (Win Probability Added), which brings me 'round to another underrepresented portion of the Greinke narrative; his relationship with fellow Royal pitcher Brian Bannister.
If Brian Bannister isn't Major League Baseball's premier sophisticate, he's got plenty of ammo. A Fine Arts major at USC, he maintains Loft 19 in Phoenix, a photography studio, and invests in each year's wave of sabermetrics books and regularly visits FanGraphs. Through that lens, a presence like Bannister helps Zack set new goals, tapping into an entire new roster of challenges, knowing that Zack constantly craved new ways to improve, or at the very least, dude just needed a way to stay focused out there.
What a brilliant way to engage Greinke, an athlete so competitive that he claims to have quit golf because he wasn't going pro and it was pointless if he wasn't. If not for this modestly talented but intellectually superior fourth starter, maybe we wouldn't have witnessed the season-long art piece that was Zack Greinke's 2009 season.
On Billy Butler: "For the first month of the season, he has definitely been an above-average first baseman. That's hard for me to say because I never thought anyone would say that but him and his family."
I see Zack Greinke as unquestioned Master of the World
Finally, my true colors can spring forth, unabashed. Though the Greinke-Obama rivalry fizzled at birth (Obama chose not to comment on Zack's Royals gear during the All Star Break as Zack hoped for a confrontation from the White Sox diehard), there's clearly some tension there, tension only generated when two world powers mill about the same small room. While there's no way from keeping Zack from "Going Rogue" (a policy enacted one too many times) given his propensity for forthrightness, it's clear that Zack Greinke is a man with his vision set squarely in the future. Despite all the praise and attention, Zack has often expressed the desire to make this year's performance a year-in, year-out experience, always deflecting praise of what's already been accomplished. Baseball Prospectus contributor Rany Jazayerli once labeled Zack "the future of pitching," which I feel can be safely truncated to "the future."
That's who I want in charge.
On the prospect of flying cars: "There definitely will be flying cars, but whether there'll be flying cars for most people to use, it'll probably take a long time to straighten everything out, all the rules and hassles. It'll take a while to figure out how to keep people from crashing into each other."
Zack Greinke is a person, a king, a total weirdo, a stalwart masquerading as Major League Baseball's finest pitcher. Since they're equal parts compelling and wacky, it's impossible to deny any particular one of his identities. But why would you want to deny any of it?
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