Freakonomics

I haven't looked over the archive of posts from last December-January, but this is normally the time of year where I rant uncontrollably about the fallout from the Winter Meetings. Part of the reason I haven't updated this blog in six weeks is that I post all mapped out in my head about B.J. Ryan signing the richest deal ever for a closer and how that intersected with Jim Hendry's nuckin' futs middle relief acquisitions for the Cubs (Bobby Howry and Scott Eyre). The market for pitching, particularly relief, is disgusting this offseason.

But the free agent market always makes my wallet burn; I think I've been blowing the same sour notes since I was a baseball columnist in college over a decade ago. It doesn't really matter what's going on, whether Albert Belle is making $10 million a season or whatever, this kind of stuff has never sat well with me. And I've usually ended up taking an entirely reactionary, hot-button viewpoint of the inflated contracts and lauded teams for deals that never panned out, all of which gives me a sinking feeling that I'm not a particularly good judge of understanding the intersection of statistics and economics in the free market.

I'm better off explaining why Jeff Weaver and Matt Clement are exactly the same pitcher, and I may do just that in a subsequent post. It's weird how people keep drawing an analogy with the bullish market for housing: don't worry, people will come to their senses and things will level off. I can look out my window and see houses on my street, across from dark alleys where thugs work on their cars all day, with million dollar price tags. So what's an extra million or five in the realm of backloaded contracts and bonuses? And yet, the math doesn't quite work in my head, not when the Cardinals won't budge over $1 million a season for a second baseman or the Great Satan reports a loss of between $50-85 million in 2005.

Which is it: boom or bust?