Douglas E. Berry

Baseball fans are strange types. We will follow a team loyally through decades, or even a century for Chicago Cubs fans, or misery and losing seasons. We are all convinced that we have a better view of a close play at home plate from 400 feet away in the bleachers than the umpire standing three feet from the action. We have rituals to bring success, wear our team pride everywhere we go, and will still argue whether Fred Merkle touched second base on September 23, 1908.

He did. Deal with it, haters!

A point of interest. "Merkle's Boner" came in a game against the Chicago Cubs. Those Cubs would go on to win the National League pennant and the World Series. A feat they only took 108 years to repeat. But this brings up my point. Along with our custom jerseys, rally caps and knowledge of baseball lore, baseball fans are in love with math. Baseball games are athletic contests on the diamond, but in the stands, the fans are conduction a graduate workshop in probability and statistics.

We track every possible stat you can imagine. It's not enough to know that Brandon Crawford's batting average (BA) is .277 (the number of hits divided by official at-bats), no we need to know that his on-base percentage (OBP) (Hits+base on balls+hit by pitch)/(At-bats+base on balls+hit by pitch+sacrifice flies) is .340. Oh, need more? We need to know his power. That leads to the slugging percentage (SLG) which counts total bases. (1 [single] + 2 [double] + 3 [triple] + 4 [home run])/At-bats. Crawford's SLG is currently .404. Finally, the basic stats include RISP (Runners In Scoring Position) which is just the player's batting average when there are runners at second or third base. It sounds strange, but some players will hit much better or far worse when there are runners close to scoring.

Confused yet? We haven't even started yet! Because baseball added a new stat, on-base + slugging percentages (OPS) Brandon is at .744 these days. But there's a problem. Baseball fields are all different. The outfield walls can be at different distances from home plate and have different heights. The Rockies' ballpark is at 5,200 feet, they even have a line of purple seats designating one mile above sea level. Meanwhile, the Giants play at sea level in a park that is frequently cold, windy and foggy.

So baseball invented OPS+. [(OPS/league OPS, adjusted for park factors) x 100]. This adjusts for the player's league average and ballparks he plays in. We also count more prosaic things like, oh, home runs and runs batted in.

It's no better for fielders on defense. Luckily for them, there's really only one stat anyone cares about: Fielding percentage (Fld%). This is (Putouts + assists)/(putouts + assists + errors). A putout is when the fielder makes an out by catching the ball on the fly, tagging the runner out, any kind of out. An assist is awarded to any player who touches the ball in a play that results in an out. So if Brandon Crawford fields a sharp grounder and flips it Joe Panik covering 2nd base for an out, Crawford gets an assist, Panik the putout. Making an error (defined as muffing a play that should be made with ordinary efforts, like overthrowing a ball or dropping an easy fly ball, is counted as an error. Crawford is very good at his job, with a career Fld% of .976.

Pitchers don't escape the madness. Here we look at the Earned Run Average (ERA). Here, lower is better. You calculate ERA pretty simply. (earned runs/innings pitched) x 9. An earned run is a run scored without the aid of errors by the team in the field (i.e., by hits, walks, and outs that advance baserunners). So if Madison Bumgarner pitches 7 innings an allows 2 runs, his ERA for that game is 2.57. Great pitchers keep their ERA below three. As with batters, there is a more complex ERA+ that accounts for league and ballparks.

Oddly, even though ERA measures the most important job of the pitcher, keeping the other team from scoring, fans have become enamored of another stat: WHIP (Walks + Hits per Inning Pitched) This is simply calculated by adding the total number of hits and walks allowed by a pitcher and dividing by the number of innings pitched.

Finally, we have WAR, Wins Above Replacement. WAR is a calculated by . . . let me see here, well I think it goes . . . you know what? No human knows how to calculate WAR. I'd need a few hours and a big white board to even start. Screw it. High is good.

So if you happen to see a baseball game and wonder why the fans are so quiet, now you know. We're working on our graphing calculators to update stats.

For lots of crazy baseball statistics fun, I recommend www.baseball-reference.com

History and fantasy literature and filled with tales of lost cities and tribes, people cut off from the main course of events and left to their own devices for centuries, until found by accident. There are still places in the world where tribal people still live in the stone age. The vast Amazon basin in South America potentially has thousands of isolated tribes living in its vast reaches. Papua New Guinea also still hold many mysteries, including constant tales of uncontacted tribes wholly unaware of the modern world. Even in the frozen wastes of Siberia, there are reports of nomadic peoples who run from any contact.

But none of them can hold a candle to the people of North Sentinal Island. More than 745 miles from mainland India and just 87 miles from Sumatra at the nearest, North Sentinel Island is found at the west of the Andaman Islands. It is a mere 27.8 square miles, roughly twenty percent bigger than the area of Manhattan. The island is surrounded by jagged reefs, with only a few openings usable only at high tide. The local climate is stormy, with unpredictable storms and surges. All of which has made the Sentinelese the most isolated people in human history.

How isolated? It wasn't until 1867 that anyone was known to have landed on the island when an Indian ship called the Ninevah was wrecked on its beach. The 106 survivors set up a temporary camp and were attacked a few days later.

They managed to fend off the worst of the onslaught but, if it hadn’t been for a Royal Navy steamer which arrived shortly after to rescue them, it is unlikely the terrified group would have survived. After that, the island was wisely left along for another century. In 1974 a documentary crew from the National Geographic Society accompanied and Indian Navy contact team to North Sentinal.

The team left gifts; coconuts, knives, small tools, and the like, and retreated to their boats to wait. Only after the boats had moved a fair distance into the lagoon did the Sentinelese emerge. The replied to the gifts with aggressive posturing, similar to ritual war dances seen around the globe. When that didn't drive the boats off, they started shooting arrows using their huge longbows. The film director was hit in the leg. The arrow was over 8 feet long.

After a few more attempts at contact, the Indian government placed a ban on visiting or even approaching North Sentinal Island. It was a good plan, until to fisherman who had been poaching in the region drifted too close to the island. The Indian helicopter that tried to retrieve the bodies from where they had been killed was driven off by arrow fire coming from the dense jungle.

Here's the kicker. The tribal people on the other Andaman Islands refer to North Sentinel only as a place of death, they've never gone near it for as far back as their histories go. We know from archeological research and genetic heritage testing that the Andamans were first settled as long as 60,000 years ago. It's possible that the Sentinelese have been living in xenophobic isolation for ten times the length of human recorded history. It is entirely possible that they are the direct descendants of the first humans to move out of Africa.

It's possible. The island is practically a second Garden of Eden. The Andaman chain is home to many wild fruits and berries, and the wide lagoon is filled with fish. Migratory birds make nests on the island, providing a source of meat and eggs. So food isn't an issue. The island is large enough for an estimated population of anywhere between 400 and 1,000. Large enough to prevent inbreeding issues. The reef even provided a natural barrier to the effects of the 2004 Christmas Tsunami.

They've never had to develop the ability to sail the ocean. Never, as far as we can tell, had any need to tame fire. No need for clothing. None of the modern vices, as far as we can tell. They are a people frozen in time, a snapshot of our Neolithic ancestors.

But I can't stop wondering who they are as a people. We know, from the abortive contact programs of the 60s and 70s that they have a language. We saw what appeared to be a social order where one man was given orders. They laughed, told each other things that made them laugh, maybe laughing at their visitors. Then with no warning bows were raised and the threat-dancing began. What did we do?

How do they live? Do they sing tales of their ancestors? Where do they live? Do they build shelters? Who is in charge at home? What do they think of us? Why are they so hostile to outsiders?

Just how long have they been on that island?

All questions I'm never going to learn the answer to in this lifetime. Because the Sentinelese have made it clear that they aren't interested in our world. And as I watch the grainy video of their children playing on the beach under the watchful eyes of family, I have to wonder if maybe they aren't the ones who got it right.

I bring you the finest nuts to be found on the interwebs.

Behold the Netscape Navigator-optimized wonder that is Barry S. Roffman's Ark Code and Mars Research Home Page.

My new best friend Barry is a dedicated nut. Along with believing that the Bible (in Hebrew, natch) is a coded treasure map (does Nicholas Cage know about this?) he is also convinced that Mars has an atmosphere as thick as Earth's because dust devils form there.

In other news, the Türkçe word for cake is pasta. I forsee a few confusing yet delicious and sweet dinners for on the trip.

I'm working my way through The West Wing as a way to kill time and revisit some of the best television ever made. I'm onto Season 4, and notice this when I put the DVD into the drive.

Dear Penthouse Forum, I never thought this would happen to me, but...

Wait, wrong story.

Today I had to run a few errands. Go vote (I still love going to the polls in person. Something about the whole ritual of it pleases me) and then take kshandra's PT Cruiser, Barnum, to get smogged.

These are the kind of things that tend to tire me out these days.. driving a car I'm not overly familiar with, having to think about voting, etc. But I realized there was one more thing I could do while out and about.

Last night Kiri had gone to make burgers, only to discover that our patties had gone from freezer burned to freezer cremated. Since our favorite auto care place is just a block or so from Smart & Final, I texted Kiri to ask if I should get more dead cow. Got the green light.

So there I am, with one (1) bag o'dead ground-up cow in my basket. The store had one register open. I got in line behind a lady who had managed to do a week's worth of shopping without using a cart and another lady who was screaming in Korean because she expected all the discounts from the sale that starts tomorrow today.

Yes, I recognize Korean profanities. Along with being a master janitor, it's one of the things I picked up in the Army. Shibbal Shibalnyun!

Anyway, I'm a mostly patient man. I scanned tabloid headlines while awaiting my face time with the retail sector. Then someone behind me pokes me in the arm.

A power-suited middle-aged woman. Dressed like a realtor in one of those horrid billboards.

"Can I slip ahead of you? I only have a few things."

She had at least ten items.

"Um, I only have one, and I really have a hard time standing for long periods." I point to my cane. "I'm recovering from a stroke."

That should have ended it, right?

"I'm really in a hurry here." Arms crossed, glaring like it's my fault she's running late.

"Again, I have one thing, and a medical need to not stand around for a long time." I was reaching critical levels of tired, overstimulated, and annoyed. "Lady, you can wait the minute my purchase is going to take."

"You're very rude."

At that point, the urge to dump the entire candy rack on the belt and ask that each be a separate transaction was nigh-overwhelming. But I took the high road. I was the adult.

Stop laughing.

What I did was open an auction for my place in line, bidding starting at $100 dollars. The only other person in line laughed out loud. 

By that point, No Shopping Cart Girl was being loaded like a Sherpa with various bags. Cashier scanned my meat (maybe this should have gone to Penthouse...); I had my credit card in hand; swipe, PIN, approve, here's your receipt.

As I picked up my bag of rendered Bossie I happened to see what Miss Impatience 2014 was pulling out of her knock-off Coach bag.

A checkbook.

I have come to the conclusion that people who still use checkbooks in markets are in fact demons from hell sent to torment me.

Today, I had to do laundry. Currently on my umpteenth load. But to do laundry, one needs quarters. Had to run to the library and store this morning, so took the time to grab two rolls from the service desk.

Get home, unwrap the first roll... and they are all the same. A design I'd not seen before. Do a little checking, and see that these are the Perry’s Victory and International Peace Memorial Quarter.

Released by the Treasury on April 1st. Which means this roll went straight from the mint to a bank and then was delivered to my local Safeway. Now they sit in my apartment's washer and drier.

Such is the life of money.

But still, pretty cool to get a roll like that.

For more money travel geekery, I suggest http://www.wheresgeorge.com/

She is so going to kill me. :)

Kirsten is making chicken for her dinners this week.

kshandra: "Why does the chicken suddenly smell like pot?"

Me: "Because.. dude, chicken.. wait! That's where I hid my stash!"

kshandra: "So it's a really baked chicken?"

Check out this Sluggy Freelance strip: http://www.sluggy.com/comics/archives/daily/050219

Steve Irwin was killed by a stingray the next year.

About a hundred bucks worth of John Scalzi books were delivered to me today. From Tor, in New York. One is autographed.

I have no fucking clue how this happened. I didn't order tham, and I certainly don't remember entering (or winning) any contests...

But I'm not complaining (grabs Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded off the pile.)