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Posted
The kid is named after Angel Guzman. That's some serious team chemistry. :roll:

 

Which clearly means we're winning the World Series, because, as we all know, chemistry begets winning, not the other way around, as some of you "statisticians" and "scientists" and "sabermetricians" who always insist on "empirical evidence" and "observable behavior" and "causal relationships" and all that other crap keep claiming.

 

 

DISCLAIMER: please don't interpret this as as invitation to argue chemistry again.

Posted
The kid is named after Angel Guzman. That's some serious team chemistry. :roll:

 

Which clearly means we're winning the World Series, because, as we all know, chemistry begets winning, not the other way around, as some of you "statisticians" and "scientists" and "sabermetricians" who always insist on "empirical evidence" and "observable behavior" and "causal relationships" and all that other crap keep claiming.

 

 

DISCLAIMER: please don't interpret this as as invitation to argue chemistry again.

 

His VORF* is now +2.7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* = Value Over Replacement Father

Posted
The kid is named after Angel Guzman. That's some serious team chemistry. :roll:

 

Which clearly means we're winning the World Series, because, as we all know, chemistry begets winning, not the other way around, as some of you "statisticians" and "scientists" and "sabermetricians" who always insist on "empirical evidence" and "observable behavior" and "causal relationships" and all that other crap keep claiming.

 

 

DISCLAIMER: please don't interpret this as as invitation to argue chemistry again.

 

His VORF* is now +2.7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* = Value Over Replacement Father

 

 

From the comments in a post on Fire Joe Morgan:

 

December 1988. Little ten-year-old dak is crunching his first ever set of VORR's (Value Over Replacement Relative). Crude calculations, sure, but enough to get the job done.

 

First number: Mom. Comes out to 0.0. "That can't be right," dak says to himself.

 

Next up: Dad. 0.1. "Huh?" Sis: 0.0. "What the?" Uncle Larry: -0.1. "Really?"

 

I go back over the numbers. Everything looks right to me. Somehow, the numbers I was getting suggested that my relatives were a lot more like replacement relatives than real relatives.

 

And believe it or not, that's when I realized I was adopted.

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