A field of … sabermetrics?

WAR. BABIP. wRC+. FIP. OBP. SLG. OPS. Exit velo. Launch angle.

These and other baseball statistics, known collectively as sabermetrics, are the engine of MLB front offices, and with good reason — they are the building blocks of winning teams. But these statistics with clever acronyms and physics-inspired monikers have started to bleed into the broadcasts, like baseball with a side of quantitative analytics.

When I watch, I enjoy the booth chatter about the action on the field, and revel in the anticipation that something great might just be about to happen. I don’t care what the exit velocity was on the home run. I don’t know whether BABIP (batting average on balls in play) is pronounced BAY-bip or BAH-bip. I curmudgeonly grandfather in the stats I grew up with: batting average, home runs, and RBI. ERA for pitchers.

Yes, they are imperfect indicators. Yes, they are situationally dependent. So be it. In the old days I knew if a player was hitting over .280 I wanted him at the plate. Now I am assaulted by wRC+ and OPS, and I feel like I want to slug, sorry, I mean SLG, someone.

Sabermetrics neatly quantifies what happens on the field, but baseball’s unpredictability is its allure. No one has ever shouted from the couch and scared the dog over a statistic. What stat captured the majesty of Vic Wertz’s long ball and the grace of Willie Mays’ over-the-shoulder catch? What stat caught Derek Jeter’s flip to home plate? What stat could encapsulate Jackie Robinson stealing home and a lifetime of insistence by Yogi Berra that he was tagged out? The greatest moments in baseball weren’t brought to you by launch angle, WAR or FIP. The greatest moments in baseball were brought to you by Jack Buck and “I don’t believe what I just saw!”

Fans like me crave the thrill that no statistic will ever deliver. I want to be suspended in that split-second on a suicide squeeze after the runner breaks for home but before I know if the bunt gets laid down. I want to hold my breath on a bad hop during a yet-unspoken perfect game. I want to see a rookie hit a home run and his teammates feign indifference when he returns to the dugout. I may even want to see someone who cheated in the World Series get brushed off the plate as a message is sent, old-school style. That is the baseball I am here for. This postseason, I am going to bench the sabermetrics and play the field of dreams.