Slack Gammons: The "Dean" of Baseball Journalism Rises to His Level of Incompetence

Baseball fandom is fueled by information. Who's getting traded, who's the hot prospect, who's having trouble hitting left-handers. That sort of thing keeps us going. If you follow baseball, this season or any season for the past quarter-century, chances are good that you got your information, at least some of it, from Peter Gammons.

Gammons is the most influential, recognizable and widely respected baseball journalist in the business. In addition to three lengthy stints with his hometown paper, the Boston Globe, Gammons has done two tours as baseball columnist for Sports Illustrated. His biggest audience comes from his on-air gig, since 1988, as ESPN's top baseball analyst. His most recent deal with ESPN also made him a regular columnist on ESPN.com, in addition to his continuing work for the Globe, Baseball America and ESPN The Magazine. Gammons is commonly referred to as "the Dean of Baseball Journalism," even "the Unofficial Commissioner of Baseball." He is a shoo-in for induction into the writer's wing of the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Now, I don't know Peter Gammons and I've never met him. For all I know he's a wonderful man who tithes to his church, takes in stray animals and volunteers at homeless shelters. I really have no idea. But I do know a little about baseball and a little bit more about journalism, and I am here to tell you that as a baseball writer and as a journalist this guy sucks.

Let me explain why.

His reporting is lazy and frequently inaccurate. He relies almost entirely on nameless sources?"one AL GM," or "a veteran player" or "one scout"?whose hip-shooting takes Gammons presents as gospel. His tone of absolute authority approaches arrogance. Yet he rarely, if ever, admits when he is wrong. He is way behind the times with his apparent disdain for statistical analysis. He often fails to cite even an anonymous source for some rather outrageous allegations. To make matters worse, his prose often reads like a high school kid's.

The first example that springs into my mind, mainly because it's a recent one and seems to encompass every egregious Gammons-ism, is the "Dave Nilsson incident." Nilsson is Australian. He played eight years with the Milwaukee Brewers as a catcher and first-baseman before taking a year off in 2000 so he could compete for his home country when it hosted the Sydney Olympics. He had also been injured. This past winter, the Boston Red Sox were looking for a power hitter, so they flew Nilsson in for a physical exam.

On Feb. 25, Gammons said this in response to a reader question in his "mailbag" on ESPN.com: "After the Red Sox decided to go in another direction and pretended that he flunked his physical to get out of the deal they had with him, he decided to stay in Australia."

Pretended? Am I insane, or is that an extremely grave accusation?something akin to an employer faking a positive drug test to get a worker canned? A failed physical could stall or terminate a player's career. What possible evidence could Gammons have uncovered?

In his March 5 "mailbag" Gammons answered a letter asking him for "proof." Gammons' reply: "Nilsson and his agent claimed, as reported in the Boston Herald, that he passed the physical. Then the next day the Red Sox decided to go in another direction when they lost out on Mike Mussina and decided to keep Scott Hatteberg."

I've searched and scoured the Herald's online archives and I can't find the story to which Gammons refers. That doesn't mean it doesn't exist. I'll assume that it does. So, let me get this straight: According to a local newspaper (Gammons' Boston competitor, incidentally) Nilsson said that he passed the exam. But the Red Sox "decided to go in another direction." Incontrovertible evidence, indeed! Chicanery runs unchecked!

Gregory Lynn, a Red Sox fan who runs the "Red Sox Media Watchdog" web site (http://people.ne.mediaone.net/gregorylynn/ default.htm) also searched and failed to come up with the Herald article. But he did find a quote from Nilsson's agent, Alan Nero, who said, simply, "they are seeking additional medical information which we will provide."

Lynn uncovered another stunning example of Gammons' thin sourcing, compounded by blow-off writing that may have sold out someone Gammons was shielding. It came in Gammons' Jan. 18, 2000, column about the then-raging John Rocker racism controversy.

Here's what Gammons wrote: "What Rocker said was unforgivable. But the fact is, every team has heard similar diatribes those from small towns across America have about New York City. One of the game's best pitchers, a sophisticated, intellectual graduate of one of the world's finest universities, has splattered teammates with similar comments and boasts that he will never play without a no-trade clause to the two New York teams."

Even a casual baseball fan, after consulting his handy pocket Gammons-to-English dictionary, could quickly deduce the probable name of the alleged comment-splatterer. There is a process of elimination I could run through, just to prove the point, but I'll save the word-count. Mike Mussina graduated from Stanford. If he is not the "sophisticated, intellectual graduate" Gammons has in mind, it sure looks like he is.

As Lynn recounts, another ESPN.com columnist, Rob Neyer, went through the process of elimination and came up with the same likely answer?posting his results not on ESPN.com but on his own RobNeyer.com site. Right around that time, Neyer's ESPN.com column vanished to parts unknown, for reasons equally murky. The Mussina piece disappeared from RobNeyer.com. It is obvious why the revelation in Gammons' column would mortify Mussina. A year later, the episode would be doubly embarrassing for Mussina, seeing how he signed a massive free-agent contract with the Yankees. Gammons' sloppiness left Mussina exposed, but more important, Gammons again offered no support whatsoever for his tale of the unidentified pitching sophisticate who fulminates against New York in the company of teammates.

Neither Neyer nor Gammons, to the best of my knowledge, ever commented on whether Neyer's unexpected mini-sabbatical was related to the "sophisticated pitcher" debacle, but Neyer is exactly the type of baseball writer that Gammons can't stand. An erstwhile assistant to statistical trailblazer Bill James, Neyer formulates his opinions based on sometimes complicated stats. Gammons forms his opinions based on his personal, preconceived notions. When Neyer, earlier this year, posted a column arguing that, based on his "Range Factor" statistics, Yankee shortstop and Gammons fave Derek Jeter is, in fact, a pretty bad fielder, Gammons shot back in his own column, "Disregard anything when someone tries to argue range factor." Huh? Whatever for? "Range factor is a phony stat," proclaimed Gammons in a subsequent mailbag. "It will tell you that Roberto Alomar is a mediocre second baseman, and he's the best I've ever seen. It doesn't take into consideration instinct."

Whatever that means. Range factor is simply the average number of balls a fielder turns into outs per nine innings. If "instinct" doesn't help a fielder turn batted balls into outs, why do we care about instinct? If it does, than the results of instinct are factored into the stat. All Gammons means by that preceding, foggy quote is, "He's the best because I say so." Yeah, and I say that Screw is a better publication than The New Yorker. How do you argue with that?

At least in baseball we have objective measurements for reference. Range factor may be an imperfect formulation. But "phony"? Only because it reveals that two of Gammons' favorite players, Jeter and Alomar, are not as good with the glove as he and conventional wisdom tell us they are. Some of the best managers in baseball have made extensive use of computers and statistical databases since the early 1980s. But Gammons gets off poking fun at "Rotisserie phoophs" and "computer people." Say what you will about them, number crunchers like Neyer, Huckabay, James and dozens more have devoted careers to enhancing the understanding and enjoyment of baseball for anyone who cares to buy a big, fat book (or glance at a website).

It was the Alomar gibe in a 1997 Gammons column that prompted Gary Huckabay, then editor of the annual stathead bible Baseball Prospectus, to initiate an online column, "The Weekly Antibiotic." The column's purpose was to rebut Gammons week in and week out.

In the inaugural column, Huckabay led with a Gammons quote: "Maybe the computer people should watch Robbie Alomar instead of running programs. Alomar is the best defensive modern-day second baseman and has made the most brilliant, far-ranging, and creative plays to his right of any second baseman in this era. Yet some computer printout says he doesn't get to enough balls to his right?"

Huckabay's response was blunt. "You'd probably classify me as one of the 'computer people'...and you have no idea how many times I've seen Roberto Alomar play. And yet, you feel no sense of guilt, shame, or restraint in casting aspersions on the labor of some exceptionally hard working and deeply passionate people. Why? What purpose does this serve?... If you're so certain that what you think you know about baseball is correct, then make your case, and let others make theirs. Leave the campaigning to the politicians."

After a few weeks, Huckabay shelved the "Antibiotic" because, he wrote, Gammons "just hasn't written very much. He's spent a fair amount of time gossiping, but by and large, there's just nothing there, so I've just let it go."

Huckabay understands. Gammons is a gossip columnist, the Ted Casablanca of baseball. No one questions his renowned knack for raising important baseball folks on the telephone. But once on the horn, do they tell him anything that's worth a damn?

I

I don't have the time or the resources to do a comprehensive study of Gammons' accuracy in prognostications and judgments of talent. Besides, I'd be relying on statistics, and we know how Gammons feels about those. So I pulled one of Gammons' columns from a year ago at random (his ESPN.com piece from March 1, 2000), and combed it for statements that I could check.

Gammons leads off the column with, again, l'affaire de Rocker. "The media in this country is spun by New York. If Rocker's vile diatribe had been about St. Louis or Cleveland, he'd be a footnote to history. But it was about New York, and the story became a New York story, seen through the eyes of New Yorkers, juxtaposed with the Diallo trial." Okay, that's just nonsense. Does Gammons really think that if Rocker ranted about "queers with AIDS," "foreigners" and "single mothers" in Cleveland, no one would notice? And what the Diallo trial has to do with it, God knows. Let's move on.

Gammons: "The Red Sox believe that Ramon Martinez will give them a second top-of-the-rotation starter after watching his increased velocity, looseness, improved command and even a new slider he concocted over the winter." Reality: Martinez accrued a frightening ERA of 6.13 and averaged just 4-2/3 innings per start, fewest of any regular starter in the American League.

Gammons: "Atlanta Braves officials think that 21-year-old Luis Rivera will jump into their bullpen...and eventually can be a star... He is a clone of another Rivera?Mariano." Reality: Rivera appeared in just six games for the Braves, who traded him to Baltimore, where he pitched in just one more.

Gammons: "One of the most impressive comebacks at this point is Lance Johnson with the Indians." Reality: the 38-year-old Johnson did not appear in a game for the Indians. He played 18 games for the Yankees, then retired after 14 big league seasons. Gammons: "But [Johnson] faces stiff competition from 27-year-old Dave Roberts, who is a special person." Reality: Roberts had only 10 at-bats, with one hit. Isn't that special?

Gammons: "You won't even recognize Jaret Wright when you see him. 'He's cleared out his head,' says Indians pitching coach Dick Pole." Reality: clearheaded or not, Wright pitched just nine games last year, with a record of 3-4, plus two no-decisions.

Gammons: "Want a sleeper? Try Tampa right-handed reliever Jeff Sparks, who at 28 may steal a job in one of the league's deepest bullpens." Reality: Sparks pitched a mere 20-1/3 innings in 15 games, allowing 13 hits and a stomach-churning 18 walks.

Gammons: "Scott Erickson's injury could be a huge problem for the Orioles' starting pitching depth." Reality: It was. I've got to give Gammons credit where credit is due.

In any event, I think that a picture of his reliability emerges, unless by pure chance I caught Gammons on an extremely tough day. I doubt it. The real shame of Gammons' career is that he wasn't always this useless. Back in the 1970s, when he was the Red Sox beat writer and baseball columnist for the Globe, he was a true innovator. He invented the baseball "notes" column, the model for the type of insider journalism now required of all sportswriters. I used to read Gammons all the time back then. His full-page (!) Sunday column was the one absolute must-read of the week. His 1985 book, Beyond the Sixth Game, was remarkably prescient about the financial problems that baseball faces, more than 15 years later, and it remains one of the best books about baseball in the era of free agency.

I can say something else good about Gammons, who will turn 56 a week into the coming baseball season, and it is a very good thing to say indeed. He still loves the game. Even through the tv screen, I can tell?he has never succumbed to the effete cynicism fashionable among sportswriters, a group Hunter Thompson once characterized as "a rude and brainless subculture of fascist drunks."

Most amazing to me, Gammons has been a member of the Boston media for 32 years and has never caved in to the region's long-established and craven negativity, embodied by such currently active idiots as the Globe's Dan Shaughnessy and the Boston Herald's Gerry Callahan. Online columnist Bill "Boston Sports Guy" Simmons visited Gammons at ESPN and reported that Gammons will talk baseball with anyone, anytime. You have to love that. Gammons does.

The problem is, from reading him, you get the distinct impression that he has no idea what he's talking about.