Aaron Judge has ascended to another plane of existence. On Wednesday, he hit his 300th career home run in his 955th career game, making him by far the fastest player to reach that milestone. He’s currently on pace for 57 homers and 11.3 WAR, and in the two weeks since I compared him to a seven-foot-tall god-child, he’s somehow gotten even better, raising his wRC+ from 212 to 219. All of this is to say that the occasion didn’t need any help in the drama department, but the White Sox couldn’t help themselves.
In the top of the eighth inning, down four runs with one out and Alex Verdugo on second, brand-new manager Grady Sizemore chose to intentionally walk Juan Soto in order to get to Judge. Let me say that again: The White Sox intentionally walked someone so that they could pitch to the guy with the best batting line since 2004 Barry Bonds – whom they were going to have to face anyway unless Verdugo somehow got doubled off second base – with two runners on base rather than one. And it worked, in the sense that Judge quickly freed the White Sox from having to play in a competitive baseball game.
Judge admitted after the game that he felt slighted by the decision, but the equanimous slugger betrayed no outward hint of frustration. You had to infer it from his plate discipline. Poor Chad Kuhl understandably seemed to want nothing to do with Judge, throwing four straight fastballs well outside the strike zone. Judge, whose 18.8% chase rate ranks in the 97th percentile, broke character and ambushed the fourth one, leaning way back in order to tomahawk the inside pitch into the Chicago bullpen. Even on the hop, the 110.1-mph line drive had enough juice that when it bounced off the yellow Vienna Beef advertisement, the sound was loud enough that the stadium mics picked it up.
Years from now – maybe hours from now – no one is going to remember the decision to walk Soto. Judge’s blast will live in history and the moment that preceded it will be a fun piece trivia. But today, I can’t help but wonder what Sizemore was thinking. I’ve racked my brain and come up with several possible explanations. Before we get to them, however, let’s discuss what Sizemore wasn’t thinking about: the numbers. The numbers are very clear. Run expectancy tells you how many runs you should expect the offense to score in any situation. Ben Clemens pulled updated numbers for this season’s run environment, and he found that putting Soto on increased the run expectancy from 0.703 to 0.942. That extra quarter of a run is the reason the intentional walk is dying out: It tends not to work.
Those are generalities based on the league as a whole, and Soto and Judge are nothing if not outliers. We can also try to get a bit more specific by using our handy-dandy batter-specific run-expectancy tool, which factors in the wOBA of the player at the plate. There’s a slight problem, though, because the wOBA on the handy-dandy batter-specific run-expectancy tool only goes up to .420. There’s just not enough historical data to give a good sample for players with Soto’s .443 wOBA or Judge’s absurd .482. Therefore, it’s underselling the run expectancy of both stars, but especially the second one. Regardless, the expectancy goes from 0.667 to 1.000, for an increase of 0.333 runs. If you’re keeping score at home, that means that walking Soto increased the Yankees’ run expectancy by more than 50%.
So now let’s get into it. What was Grady Sizemore thinking when he decided to intentionally walk someone to get to Aaron Judge? There’s no way to know for sure, and the goal here is not to make fun of someone with a legitimate claim on the title of toughest first-time manager gig ever. That being the case, I just threw everything I had at the problem, and came up with 12 different explanations articulated from Sizemore’s point of view. They’re mostly silly and wildly contradictory. Sizemore has only managed five games, and there’s simply no way to know how he thinks, so I imagined a lot of different Sizemores. But some combination of them has got to be right.
1. Juan Soto is scary.
Juan Soto is one of the greatest hitters in the game. Do you know what he did to us in the eight plate appearances before that intentional walk? Let me break it down for you: homer, homer, homer, walk, homer, groundout, walk, walk. He was probably going to walk or homer anyway! Apparently, that’s all he does. I’m going to have nightmares about this guy. Give me the best hitter in baseball any day.
2. I was distracted by a butterfly.
Yeah, this is probably on me. All throughout the top of the eighth, this lovely, little butterfly was floating around, drifting between the third base line and the grass right in front of the dugout. It was gorgeous, and when its cream-colored wings would catch the stadium lights just right they’d burst with this mesmerizing glow. It made me feel like I did when I was a kid, carefree and light, like nothing could hold me down. So I don’t 100% remember which managerial moves I may or may not have made. I was busy having a transcendent experience. Regardless, Aaron Judge stomped on the butterfly with one of his giant cleats as he was rounding third base and it is now very, very dead. Please give me some space during this trying time.
3. The resistance will not be intimidated by you.
Did you ever see Star Wars: Episode VII — The Force Awakens? That’s what Poe Dameron says when Kylo Ren is interrogating him: “The resistance will not be intimidated by you.” It’s such a badass line. I was watching it the other night when I was supposed to be going over the scouting reports that say which players on the Yankees are most likely to hit monster home runs, and it really fired me up. I took that mindset into the game. Who’s the biggest guy on the Yankees? We’re not going to be intimidated by him. We’re going to walk right up to him and punch him in the mouth (or, you know, try to). In retrospect, I now realize that immediately after that line, Poe cracked and told Kylo everything. So that’s on me, I guess.
4. There was an open base.
It’s as simple as this: There was nobody on first. In the business, we call that an open base, and it’s as good as gold. I don’t care what the numbers say. Or what the other coaches say. Or the front office, or the reporters, or the fans (and definitely not that one really loud fan who shouted “Hey! What are you doin’? Hey, just walk the whole lineup!”). When first base is open and you’ve got a great hitter at the plate, you fill it up. Now you can turn a double play. Who cares if the next hitter is literally the best player in baseball, who also happens to have the fourth-lowest groundball rate of all qualified players, and he’s literally only hit six groundballs this entire month, and you’re giving him the opportunity to hit a three-run homer and put the game out of reach. As long as there’s a chance of turning a sweet, sweet, double play, all is right with the universe.
5. I was under the impression that Aaron Judge was one of those gentle giants.
I know he’s big and strong, but he always seems so nice! I never would have thought he had it in him to do that to a baseball. I thought he was like the iron giant, from that movie The Iron Giant (before he gets mad and destroys everything). Or like Fezzik from The Princess Bride (when he’s not bopping people on the head or shouting, “There will be no survivors!”). Or Chewbacca from Star Wars (when he’s not pulling people’s arms off because they beat him at chess). It’s possible I need to either rethink my stance on gentle giants or watch fewer movies.
6. I’m a history buff.
Maybe you’ve never considered this, but ballplayers and coaches aren’t just one-dimensional caricatures. We’re more than what you see on your TV. For example, I’m passionate about history. I’ve been to every history museum in the continental United States. I love nothing more than a good historical walking tour. One time on a road trip in Philadelphia, I licked the Liberty Bell when no one was looking. It tasted like freedom (and metal). So I just couldn’t resist the chance to see history made right in front of my eyes. I called for the intentional walk and ordered Kuhl to throw nothing but fastballs, and now that moment will live forever.
7. It’s called the platoon advantage, you rube.
Let me break it down like this: Chad Kuhl is right-handed. Aaron Judge is right-handed. To us hardcore sabermetricians in the know, that gives Kuhl the platoon advantage. It’s as simple as that. If we let Kuhl pitch to a left-hander like Soto, we would be surrendering the platoon advantage, and we might as well throw in the towel at that point. Judge has a 244 wRC+ against lefties, but against righties it’s a paltry 218. You just can’t let chances like that get away.
8. It was all a big misunderstanding.
So here’s what happened. I wasn’t trying to walk Juan Soto. I was just paying attention to the game, really locked in, laser-focused, and then I happened to notice this guy in the other dugout. He was way over on the home plate side by the railing. He looked super familiar, and I realized that I totally played with him back in Cleveland like 20 years ago. We were on the same team! His name was, like, Darren or something. Darren Doon. What a coincidence! Anyway, I went to give him one of my classic Sizemore waves: tuck in your thumb and wave your four fingies like you just don’t care. Next thing I know, Juan Soto is jogging to first base, all the fans are booing, and Darren’s looking at me like I’m completely crazy.
9. I didn’t realize that was Aaron Judge.
I’m not stupid. I would never willingly choose to bring up Aaron Judge in that situation. I know the scouting reports backwards and forwards. I just don’t have all the names matched up with the faces yet. As it turns out, I didn’t know what Aaron Judge looks like. I thought he was that crafty lefty with the mustache and all those funky hesitation moves, but apparently, he’s the big guy who looks like he can hit the ball a thousand feet. It’s not entirely my fault; those stupid jerseys don’t have the names on the back! I’ve only been manager for a week. I’ll figure it out.
10. Nothing matters anyway.
Hello, my name is Grady Sizemore. I am 42 years old. I am as handsome as the day is long. I have just over half a season of big-league coaching experience. I am now the manager of the worst team in baseball, and my only job is to keep them from being the worst in the history of baseball. Life is a pit. Why intentionally walk Juan Soto to get to Aaron Judge? Why do anything at all? What could possibly matter less? Please feel free to criticize my decisions when you have walked a few miles in the wretched pile of melted rubber and shredded leather that constitutes my shoes.
11. I thought Aaron Judge was all homered out.
Are you familiar with the finite heartbeat theory? As the name suggests, it posits that human beings are only born with so many heartbeats, and once they hit that limit, they keel over stone dead. I haven’t made my mind up about it, but I am a devout believer in the finite homer theory, which posits that each player has only so many home runs in their bat. My gut told me that Judge’s number was 299, and I always listen to my gut, unless it’s telling me to stop eating dairy. As it turns out, I misunderstood my gut. It was trying to tell me that Judge’s number was 699, but apparently the pint of Chunky Monkey I housed before the game messed up the delicate balance of my microbiome, and the message got scrambled on the way from my gut to my brain. If you think about it, this is really Ben & Jerry’s fault.
12. It’s opposite day.
Or should I say, It’s not opposite day? Get it? Either way, we just beat the Yankees 10-2. And Aaron Judge is on our team. And everything is going great. Because it’s opposite day. Or it isn’t.
