In this week’s Metro column, I boldly made the following claim:

[Manny] Ramirez is arguably the best active player to have never received an MVP award. He’s certainly the best active player to be so consistently snubbed; of similar players, he has the fewest top-five finishes without ever finishing in the top two.

But of course, Manny is far from the only great active player to never take home the trophy, and while I was cogitating about this column, I got to talking about these players with my co-conspirators here at UmpBump. We bandied about some other names of active players who have, amazingly enough, never won an MVP: Gary Sheffield and Jim Thome lead the pack, in my mind, and you could make a case for perennially beloved also-rans Derek Jeter and David Ortiz as well.

Sure, there are fantastic younger guys who haven’t won the trophy yet. But when it comes to the David Wrights, Chase Utleys, and Hanley Ramirezes of baseball, one can say, “Hey, he’s still young.” And there are deserving players who are always a long shot to take home the hardware simply by virtue of their position; most pitchers and designated hitters suffer this fate. (I’ve included Ortiz here on my list of snubs because a) yes, I’m a Red Sox fan and this is my list, you jerks and b) he’s finished in the top 5 of the MVP balloting for the past four years running—a neat trick for any player, even more so considering the entrenched bias among many members of the BBWAA against voting for a full-time DH.)

But with the Sheffs and the Mannys and the Thomes, it’s a different story. You can’t necessarily point to a certain year and say, “This is the year he deserved to win,” but you’re still surprised to learn he’s never gotten the trophy.

Of active players, who do you think is the biggest MVP snub? Anyone going to take a stand for Todd Helton? Or Mike Piazza, still technically active? Any secret Carlos Delgado fans out there?

Who gets your vote?

more at twiigs.com…

Sunday night is a bittersweet time. You’re all nice and relaxed from the weekend…but then…what’s that noise?! Did you hear something lurking in the shadows? GAAAH! It’s MONDAY MORNING! RUUUNNN!!! So here’s a few links to lull you back into a false sense of security:

Fire Brand of the American League on the Roy Oswalt - to - Boston - at - the - deadline rumors.

The Kansas City Star on all the stuff you can get with a Royals ticket stub (warning: you may need an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of it all).

The Bleacher Report on what the Rangers could do to become contenders—this season.

The Other Fifteen made a heat map to compare Tulo’s range with Jeter’s. Guess who wins!

View from the Cheap Seats is piiiiiiiissed at Tony LaRussa for letting Adam Wainwright chuck 130 pitches when he’s the Cards’ only good, healthy starter. Viva El Birdos is also concerned.

Phil Hughes lets Morgan Ensberg guest blog. The results are sort of like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Keith Law went to a wedding. The DJ played “Sweet Caroline”….and paused for the fans guests to shout BAHM BAHM BAAAHM and SO GOOD! SO GOOD! SO GOOD! How odd.

River Ave Blues gulps and delivers the bad news: Jorge Posada’s shoulder is still not better. Will the Yanks have to bite the bullet and get a backup for their backup? Doug Mirabelli’s available… (DOUGIE’S GOING DEEP!)

Baseball Prospectus on just how insane Cliff Lee has been to start the season.

High Cheese notes that Tom Gorzelanny’s bobblehead is making an obscene gesture.

And finally, Sox and Dawgs has the latest crop of Red Sox charity wines. Last year, we had Schilling Schardonnay, Caberknuckle, and my personal favorite, Manny Being Merlot. I was hoping the Sox would branch out into beer and hard liquor (“Coco’s Crisp IPA: Packed with good hops” or “Varitek Vodka: Intangibly Smooth”) but no such luck. This year’s puns are Sauvignyoouuk (witty), Captain’s Cabernet (yawn), and Vintage Papi (super-yawn). I’m disappointed, quite frankly. What about the Papi Pinot I requested? The Matsu-sake?! Pedroia’s Petite Sirah? Buchholztraminer?!?

What else should I be reading? Email me!

I recently returned from a week in the Bahamas. On a layover in Fort Lauderdale, I had the opportunity of perusing the airport newsstand. After I had finished carefully combing through the celebrity gossip rags and home decor mags in the “Women’s Interest” section, I turned my attention to the “Men’s Interest” section. (”Men’s Interest,” you see, is where they put all the sports magazines. As if men wouldn’t be interested in Angelina Jolie’s baby bump or six ways to clear clutter! Pshaw!)

Anywho, this is what I saw before me:

Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez, locked in a vicious coverboy smackdown! Refereed by Adriana Lima and her stern palm fronds of discipline!

On Men’s Health, Jeter, arms confidently folded, grins slyly at the camera. “Derek Jeter: How to rule in the clutch!” the magazine enthuses, as if Derek Jeter did not spend last October grounding into double plays. But no matter—Derek looks relaxed, assured, and like he gets an awful lot of sugar from an awful lot of females. The design of the shoot portrays Jeter as a man’s man, an approachable-but-cool Everyman that the reader could swap stories with over drinks. Plus, Men’s Health is sort of like FHM’s slightly older brother; still a scallywag at heart, he’s traded beer for whiskey and pizza for steak. It’s a good fit for the image Jeter wants to project. Well played.

On Men’s Vogue, by contrast, A-Rod squints nearsightedly into the lens, his lips in their trademark sullen pout. An aura of defensive self-consciousness pervades his hand-on-hip stance. Whereas Jeter seems to have won the respect and approval of the Men’s Health editors, Rodriguez seems to have angered the good people at Men’s Vogue, who taunt him with a “Clutch Time” slug over the headline. Here, there is no talk of “ruling” in the clutch. Here, there is only a loaded question: “Can Baseball’s Biggest Bet Redeem Himself—and the Game?” That is a tall order, especially for one who has a reputation of crumbling under pressure—as Men’s Vogue no doubt knows. As for A-Rod’s choice of magazine, the only glossy gayer than Men’s Vogue is The Advocate. Thus, it must come as no surprise to Alex or his handlers that A-Rod, having agreed to do the cover, appears in a pose, outfit, and lighting designed to call attention to his nether-goods. (Note how the eye immediately leaps to the bright white of his trousers, while the black shirt and socks recede into the background; note also how the aforementioned nether-goods are located almost exactly in the middle of the magazine cover. The unsuspecting reader is lured into checking out A-Rod’s package against his will!) One wonders why Rodriguez even agreed to do the shoot. But as usual with A-Rod, the more he struggles against his appearance-obsessed poseur image, the more it ensnares him.

However, despite this, the real winner of this magazine smackdown is not Derek Jeter. No, gentle readers. The real winner is Josh Beckett:

Aside from the slight irony of Beckett appearing next to a “RIP YOUR ABS” screamer, this cover shot is the clear winner. While Beckett’s facial hair looks as ridiculous as ever, and the artistic director seems to have oiled him up within an inch of his life, he gets some extra points for that Texas-sized Red Sox belt buckle and those well-displayed forearms. The lighting, angle, and pose cast Josh Beckett as a sort of super-hero. Plus, it’s worth noting that neither Men’s Vogue nor Men’s Health are quite as badass as Men’s Fitness (”Train to fight the MMA Way” versus “10 Ways to Look Great!” and “Lean and Mean: the New Slim Suits”). But the saving grace of Beckett’s cover is that despite wearing stonewashed jeans, a massive gold chain, and the aforementioned UFH, and despite looking like self-tanner exploded all over his entire body, and despite ending up so airbrushed that he looks a little bit like BeckettT1000 (sent back in time to destroy opposing hitters!), Josh Beckett seems here like he really doesn’t give rat’s derrière what you think of him. And though, of the three, he’s the one with the biggest claim to glory in the clutch (a 6-0 record with a 1.73 ERA in the postseason), Men’s Fitness doesn’t even approach such philosophical notions. Instead?

Ladies and gentlemen, the winnah and still champeen.

In a bizarre drama, Hideki Matsui announced on Thursday that he has secretly gotten married, but he refuses to divulge the identity of his wife, showing only sketches of her drawn by himself and his brother.

What made the whole situation even more bizarre is that Matsui may have married her in order to win a bet he made with teammates Derek Jeter and Bobby Abreu.

According to the terms of the bet, if Matsui got married first, he would win an undisclosed sum of money from the other two, but since Matsui was considered more likely to get married first, Jeter and Abreu were given handicaps of 1 year and 6 months, respectively.

This means that if Jeter can get married in the next year, or Abreu can get married in the next 6 months, they won’t have to pay anything to Matsui, but both players are already conceding that Matsui has won for sure and say they will pay up now.

According to Jeter, there is “no chance” that he will be married by next March.

But while UmpBumpers are certainly curious enough about the identity of this mystery woman Matsui has married, the far more pressing question has to be, is she a Hot Baseball Wife?

While the sketch above implies a certain level of hotness, if you sort of tilt your head sideways and squint at it funny, more information is needed to return a verdict of “hot” - so let’s go to the evidence…

1. Matsui is a Major League ballplayer, one of Japan’s most instantly recognizable public figures, and has often been referred to as “the most eligible bachelor in Japan.”

This means she is likely to be hot.

2. She is 25 years old and Japanese.

This information increases the likelihood that she is hot.

3. According to Matsui, she quit her job at a reputable sporting goods company about 1 year ago.

Well, having no job at all is not so hot, but then again, gold-diggers are often hot.

4. “Matsui became attracted to her personality as well as her discretion and proposed to her,” sports tabloid Sankei Sports reported.

Hmm. When people start talking about “personality” and “discretion,” actual hotness starts to be questioned.

5. At his press conference Matsui declared, “In short, I fell in love at first sight.”

Well, maybe she was pretty hot after all if Matsui fell in love just by looking at her.

6. “She is reserved and is not so sprightly,” Matsui said. “I think she is a person who is very considerate to others.”

Uh, okay. “Considerate to others” is hot, but “reserved” and “not so sprightly”? That sounds kind of un-hot.

So what do you think? Is this woman likely to be hot? You make the call:

more at twiigs.com…

As regular visitors to UmpBump know, I have no love for Derek Jeter’s glove. I have no personal animus against Jeter, despite my disdain for the Yankees, which is less of a raging hate-on and more of a well - I’m - a - Red - Sox - fan - so - what - do - you - expect? kind of thing. I’ve always felt that Jeter seemed like a pretty classy guy and that he definitely has one of the finest boohiners in baseball. I even felt a twinge sympathy for Derek Jeter when I read recently that despite his raft of “objectively hot” model-stripper-singer exes, he might need a few tips in that department. Apparently, he hit on hot indie actress Sienna Miller at a club, only to get ignored when Sienna didn’t even know who he was. Ouch. (Dude, she’s already going out with the Anti-Jeter anyway!).

Yet I could only spare Jeets so much sympathy. After all, Derek Jeter has won multiple Gold Gloves, yet his defense sucks. And even more infuriating, no one in the professional commentariat seems able to admit his defense sucks. I will agree that Jeter has pretty sure hands, and so you rarely see him bobble the ball, but there is simply no evidence that Jeter’s defense is actually that good. And in fact, there’s plenty of evidence to the contrary:

1) Last year, Derek Jeter ranked in the bottom half of major-league shortstops in fielding percentage, put-outs, and assists. He ranked second-to-last in range factor. He was dead last—in all of baseball—in zone rating. In fact, the only stat in which Derek Jeter even ranked in the top ten of MLB shortstops was double plays. And last year, the year he took home the trophy, he caboosed it there, too. Simply put, there is no statistical evidence that Derek Jeter is even a good defensive shortstop, let alone a great one deserving of praise and trophies. Now, I’ll admit, he had a pretty good year in 2005. But he had absolutely abysmal defensive years in 2001, 2002, and 2003. When you look at other, more abstruse stats—David Pinto’s DER leaps to mind—the evidence is clear: Derek Jeter is not good at defense. And the weight of all of these metrics taken together is clearly on the side of sucks-more-than-he-doesn’t-suck.

2) Lee Panas, a Detroit Tigers fan and research analyst, looked at six different systems for evaluating a shortstop’s fielding and combined them to devise the number of runs that player would have prevented if he had played in 150 games. In fact, Derek Jeter came in dead last. Jeter actually cost the Yankees a whopping 27 runs with his glove last year. That is some hardcore defensive suckage.

3) A professor at the Wharton School recently finished an evaluation of nearly half a million baseball plays (every play from 2002 to 2005) and estimated that Jeter was one of the worst defensive shortstops in that span, costing his team an average of 14 runs a year with the leather during that period.

4) Francis Bacon would have agreed.

5) Tom Tango of The Hardball Times wrote an essay about how awful Jeter’s defense is, and I believe it’s in the 2008 edition of their book. However, I can’t find it online, so here’s BP’s summation:

[W]ith Jeter on the field the shortstop makes an out on 11.6 percent of balls in play. However, when looking at all pitchers that Jeter has played behind when pitching with other shortstops on the field, the rate goes up to 12.5 percent—that’s a difference of 38 plays over a full season, and the second-worst mark for a regular shortstop in baseball, behind only [Michael] Young. Tango then does likewise controlling for batters (Jeter is 25 plays worse, fourth from the bottom), a runner on first base (11 plays worse, ahead of only Felipe Lopez), and park (18 plays worse, ranking in the bottom half).

And yet, somehow, the people with the microphones just refuse to believe the evidence that is staring them in the face. When I was watching some Red Sox Spring Training coverage over the weekend, there was NESN’s Tom Caron chatting it up with the Boston Globe’s Nick Cafardo. The two of them just went on and on about how great Jeter is on defense, and how you can make stats prove anything, and how only lame homer Red Sox fans don’t “respect” Jeter (as if “respect” is synonymous with “think his defense is really great, even when it’s clearly not”). They even claimed Jeter’s defensive ability is actually just really clutch (oh, is that what they’re calling it these days? those crazy kids!). Cafardo kept talking about Jeter’s skills ‘after the seventh inning,’ as if Jeter is just keeping all his defensive range in reserve for those close-and-late situations. Even worse, to cap it all off, they finished up the segment by showing a clip of Jeter with the Gold Glove trophy and saying, “Well, Jeter has the hardware and you can’t argue with that, ha ha!” I would posit that one actually can argue with that, as I hope I have just effectively demonstrated.

I respect Derek Jeter. I respect his ability to reliably hit .300 with moderate power. I respect his ability to sell flavored water on TV. I respect his dimples.

I just think his defense sucks.

Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while now might have noticed that some of us harbor a faint disdain for the defensive abilities of a certain Derek Sanderson Jeter.

So it was with some interest that we read Lee Panas’s recent blog post evaluating the defensive contributions made by major league shortstops in 2007.

Panas looked at six well-known systems for evaluating a player’s defense and averaged the number of runs a player prevented last season according to each system, normalizing the results for 150 games.

In first place was John McDonald of the Toronto Blue Jays, who would have prevented an amazing 26 runs last season had he played in 150 games. In close second was Troy Tulowitzki, who saved 25 runs. From there the drop off was pretty huge, with the seemingly ageless Omar Vizquel taking third place with 16 runs prevented.

And in DEAD LAST PLACE out of the 30 shortstops evaluated, averaged across 6 different systems?

Yep, it was Derek Jeter of the Yankees, with an average result of 27 extra runs allowed above a shortstop of average range, over the course of 150 games.

Man, how did this guy ever win a gold glove?

Of course, we here at UmpBump believe in moderation, and we understand that any player can have an off year, so we took this news in stride, and refrained from any unnecessary, self-satisfied glee:

From: Nick
To: UmpBump Staff

Check out this list of the best and worst defensive shortstops last season… Any guesses as to who was dead last?

From: Sarah
To: UmpBump Staff

BWAHAHAHAHAHA. Someone please blog this!

By The Associated Press | October 7, 2007

A new Derek Jeter cologne is on the way.

On the heels of the phenomenal success of Jeter’s first cologne, “Driven,” cosmetics firm Avon Products Inc. has signed the New York Yankees shortstop to a new deal in which it will create a second fragrance in Jeter’s signature line, known as “Derek Jeter Presents: Rue”

“This unique and compelling fragrance will reflect the unique personality of one of the most rueful men in America,” according to an Avon press release.

The fragrance will go on sale across America in November, just in time to give it to your most rueful relatives for Christmas.

“I have been deeply involved with creating this fragrance - everything from the achingly tragic blend of scents to the ‘crying Joba’ logo,” Jeter says in the press release. “I did have some help, however. Because my teammates are also among the most rueful men in this country, I asked A-Rod and Johnny Damon to help me out with the new line.”

“I wanted to make sure the final product was something only truly despondent men would want to wear,” Jeter added.

The fragrance reportedly combines the essences of shame, regret, and despair with the subtle musk of utter defeat and the faintest hint of Joe Torre’s tears.

Did anyone else notice that the ending of yesterday’s game between the Yankees and the Angels bore quite a resemblance to a certain poem of some note?  The resemblance was especially clear to me upon reading the article about it in the LA Times.

I felt inspired to take a crack at putting the final moments of the game into verse, and here’s what I came up with:

# # #

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Gotham nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning left to play.
And now with K-Rod on the mound, the Angels in the lead,
There seemed but little chance the Yanks could get the runs they’d need.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only “Captain Clutch” could get a whack at that -
We’d put up even money, now, with Jeter at the bat.

But Abreu preceded Jeter, plus Posada, Cabrera, and Damon,
That the Yankees’ hopes were slim was clear, even to a baseball layman.
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Jeter’s getting to the bat.

Abreu walked, no big surprise, Posada’s single bored them,
But then Damon’s groundout moved them up, and Melky’s sac fly scored one!
And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what came to be,
There was Posada hugging third, and the score just four to three!

Then from 10,000 throats and more there rose a lusty roar;
It rumbled through Manhattan, it washed the Jersey shore;
It echoed off the Hudson and the fans could hardly wait,
For Jeter, mighty Jeter, was advancing to the plate.

There was practiced ease in Jeter’s manner as he took his rips;
All businesslike was Jeter’s mein, no smile on Jeter’s lips.
And when, despite the pressure, Jeter’s face betrayed no fear.
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Jeter they did cheer.

The announcers spouted Jeter man-love, recounting all his stats,
His famous flip to nail Giambi, and all his clutch at-bats;
.488 with runners on, a figure mighty fine,
Runners on base and two men out? An amazing .609!

They gazed in admiration as up to the plate he pranced;
They screamed their adulation as he dug into his stance.
And now as K-Rod toed the mound, the ball held at his hip,
Defiance shone in Jeter’s eyes, a sneer curled Jeter’s lip.

Eight times Rodriguez kicks and deals, firing to the plate full-bore
But Jeter works the count to full, and then fouls off three more!
Fastballs, 96 at least, and sliders on the black,
But Jeter keeps on hanging tough, his focus never slacks.

That sneer once more curls Jeters’s lip, the time for toying’s past;
‘Twas plain the next pitch K-Rod threw would be the ballgame’s last.
And now the hurler holds the ball, and now he lets it fly,
Now Jeter swings, his swing is true, ball soaring through the sky!

Oh, somewhere in this dark, dark world, the rain is pouring down;
Hearts are being broken, and somewhere people frown,
Oh, somewhere men are weeping, and somewhere clouds are black;
But all true fans are smiling now—Jeter flied out to the track!

Yesterday morning as I arrived at the bookstore where I work, I clapped my hands with glee—a coworker was unloading fresh bundles of the New York Daily News, and on the back, the paper was chastising Mr. Yankee, Derek Jeter, for his childish “feud” with Alex Rodriguez, after A-Rod said Monday that the “blood brothers” were now just co-workers.

How disappointed I was this morning to see that Jeter had already made the inevitable, “No, we’re fine” comment. I thought we weren’t scheduled for a backpedaling until next week, Derek. What gives? I was looking forward to more erudite analyses like the following, from New York Post scribe Joel Sherman:

These have not been questions about his relationship with Jessica Biel or Mariah Carey or whatever starlet of the moment Derek Jeter was romancing.

When it comes to that, Jeter is right. His off-the-field associations have nothing to do with on-the-field results. Thus, he has decided to make them off-limits and I totally respect him for that.

But this was not about Page Six. This was about E-6, error on Jeter for malfeasance as a leader.

Ooh! Snap! What else you got, Joel?

Rodriguez attempted to recast the bond between the two and, perhaps, the power dynamics Monday when he admitted that their association had dwindled from “blood brothers” to “a working relationship.” It was, perhaps, a liberating moment for Rodriguez, a chance to stop having to act as if something existed that does not any more.

Jeter’s opportunity to take the cathartic baton came and went yesterday with the Yankee captain defiantly sticking to his cover story…

Cathartic baton! Quelle poesie!

Every story on this subject from the parking lots of New Jersey to the banks of the Hudson has focused on three storylines: Jeter isn’t doing his job as Captain where A-Rod is concerned; Jeter bailed out Jason Giambi when the slugger was caught using steroids, telling fans to cheer for him, yet leaves A-Rod to be booed mercilessly; and that all of this is starting to corrode Derek’s sterling reputation.

Won’t anyone come to Jeter’s defense? Won’t Mariah Carey or Jessica Biel or any of his other beards broads come to his aid?

Ah, wait….riding up on a white horse is none other than…Don Zimmer! Calling the negative press “a disgrace,” The Gerbil said of Jeter, “What do you want him to do? Put his arm around him and kiss him?” Given the frat-boy-humor t-shirts out there, Zim could have, perhaps, chosen his words a little better.

The irony about all of this is that A-Rod made his initial comments ostensibly to put to rest the incessant questions—which have swirled ever since that 2001 Esquire article—about the nature of his relationship with his “frenemy.” I say “ostensibly” because either A-Rod really is the PR naif he sometimes seems to be, with as many foot-in-mouth gaffes as John Kerry, or he is crazy like a fox. I can’t tell anymore. He started the interview saying, “I think it’s important to cut the [redacted]…You don’t have to go to dinner with a guy four, five times a week to do what you do. It [the relationship] is actually much better than all of you guys [the reporters] expect. I just want the truth to be known.”

Funny thing is, when I hear someone blurt out the T-word, I instantly suspect them of chicanery. So when, a few moments later, A-Rod innocently added, “People start assuming things are worse than what they are, which they’re not. But they’re obviously not as great as they used to be, when we were like blood brothers.” Well that’s a little passive-aggressive, don’t you think, Mr. I Just Want The Truth To Be Known. “The reality is, there’s been a change in our relationship over the past 14 years and hopefully we can put it behind us.” I can just see the wheels turning in the Yankee press corps’ collective brain: “So there IS something to put behind them! Aha!” But if A-Rod was trying to start trouble, then the question becomes: why? WHY? You’d think it would be the very last thing the beleaguered third baseman would want.

In other Yankees’ camp gossip, Bernie Williams is still MIA. The outfielder, who spent all 22 professional seasons of his career with the team, does not want to go to Tampa as a non-roster invitee, the only position the Yankees were willing to offer him this spring. But, of course, Jeter finds a way to make this story, too, about himself:

[Williams] has not returned calls from Brian Cashman, Joe Torre, [Jorge] Posada or [Mariano] Rivera. He did return Jeter’s call two days ago.

“He called me back,” Jeter said. “I’m not going to talk about what we talked about. I can’t relate to what Bernie’s going through. He’s been here what, over 20 years? Even I haven’t been here that long.”

Oh, hyuk hyuk hyuk Derek. You kidder.

At this rate, it’s a good thing that Mike Mussina and Carl Pavano have already cleared the air. Spring Training isn’t even a week old and there’s already more drama in the Yankees’ clubhouse than you’d find naturally occuring in a high school bathroom.

Wow, it must be really hard being Derek Jeter. There you are, captain of the New York Yankees. Men want to be you, women want to be with you. Your salary is $20 million a year, and you net an extra $6 mill in pocket money from endorsement deals with the likes of Nike and Gatorade. You have such magnetism that you forced one of the best shortstops ever to become a third baseman, so that you wouldn’t have to learn a new position, and yet scarcely a man, woman or child breathed a word against you for it, bewitched as they were they by your carefully woven cloak of charm. And this year, there seems to be an unstoppable momentum building towards your selection as AL MVP. Nationally, you’re the most popular player in baseball. Why, you even have your own cologne!

And yet there’s a fly in the ointment. Someone, somewhere, is suggesting that you, with your dimples and teeth, are not the best defensive shortstop in the American League. Well, Derek, fortunately for you, Coley Ward is here to save you.

Nevermind that Coley himself called you “overrated” and said you had “limited range” just three months ago. Ward, with his own “straighforward [sic], unbiased critique” talks a lot about “facts” in his post. But he overlooks a few.

And like a trout to a fly, I rise to the bait.

Let’s pretend we’re doing a picks post for the Gold Gloves. Okay? Let’s start from scratch. If you’re a classicist you start with fielding percentage, and there are three shortstops with better fielding percentages in the AL than Jeter: Michael Young of the Rangers, Jhonny “I can’t spell my own first name” Peralta of the Indians, and Juan Uribe of the White Sox. Jeter is tied for fourth with Orlando Cabrera of the Dodgers (or as we call them in Boston, the Blue Sox). Alex Gonzalez of the Red Sox doesn’t qualify for the stat, because he missed a number of games this season, mostly due to an elbow injury. However, if Gonzalez—who played 111 games, far more than any other “unqualified” shorstop—made the list, he would top it, with a fielding percentage of .985 to Jeter’s .975.

As my esteemed colleague points out, Jeter’s 15 errors this year isn’t bad—but then, “not bad” is hardly the standard by which Gold Gloves are usually awarded. Nevertheless, only Young and Uribe had fewer goofs this year, with 14 errors apiece. Oh, except that the “unqualified” Alex Gonzalez only had 7. But as Massaroti pointed out, Gonzo did play in fewer games than Jeter. So let’s do some simple math: Jeter averaged an error every ten games. That’s “not bad.” But Alex Gonzalez averaged an error just once every 16 games. That means that if Gonzo had played as many games as Jeter (150), he would have had about 9 errors on the season. That’s damn good.

But say someone out there—my stat-savvy friend Nick, perhaps—thinks that fielding percentage isn’t the best stat by which to measure defensive ability. Many kids nowadays prefer to discuss a player’s range factor, a more complete metric. How does our Gold Glove recipient stack up against other shortstops in range factor?

In range factor, of all qualified AL shortstops, Derek Jeter is dead last.

But maybe, just maybe, slick-fielding Derek had a boatload of double plays. Oh, wait, no, once again he’s caboosing it with 81. Michael Young, on the other hand, is ahead of the madding crowd with 113 twin killings.

Here’s a defensive stat in which Derek Jeter is not last among shortstops: his zone rating. Of course, Uribe, Young, Carlos Guillen, Miguel Tejada, Cabrera, and Peralta are all ahead of him. (Gonzalez would be second, right after Uribe, if he qualified.) But at least he’s better than Yuniesky Betancourt and Angel Berroa. (At least there’s that.)

So no, Coley, my dear misguided friend. Derek Jeter did not deserve the Gold Glove this year, because he was most emphatically not, as you wrote, “the best in 2006.” That’s not to say that A-Gonz was a shoo-in. But he would have been an excellent choice. So would Michael Young. So would Juan Uribe.

Oh, but I forgot. Derek Jeter gets extra points for being a freakin New York freakin Yankee. And you wonder why we hate them so.