How To Play Beane Ball

Here's how it works in the world of Billy Beane: In an obscure deal in March 2001, Beane traded utility infielder Miguel Cairo for minor-league third baseman Eric Hinske. It would prove a stunningly good trade -- but not because the A's needed a third baseman. (As good as Hinske would become, young Eric Chavez is one of the best.) A season later, when closer Jason Isringhausen departed as a free agent -- and it was inevitable that he would, given the A's budget realities -- Beane had a blossoming Hinske to offer Toronto for its closer, Billy Koch. The next year, when Koch became too expensive for the A's to keep, Beane dealt him to the White Sox in exchange for Keith Foulke, a cheaper option. Few even noticed that Beane also received a solid catcher, Mark Johnson, a credible alternative if the A's starter, Ramon Hernandez, fails to rebound from last year's slump.

Follow all that? That's where Beane lives, the arcane alternative universe in which he thrives. In that realm, every move has a purpose. Every acquisition has potential. And everything is about risk -- specifically, about reducing risk.

Playing the Percentages

"We try to create a situation where we're the casino," Beane says. "It's like how an actuary would set insurance rates. Predictability, predictability, predictability. What's the path to least risk? What's the greater chance of getting some return on this asset? We just stay disciplined on that -- and over time, with an accumulation of those decisions, you end up with something successful."

Of course, Beane's explanation is somewhat disingenuous. A low-budget team has to take some risks that others won't. That's why Beane ultimately faces the big question, the one that every baseball executive, reporter, and stat freak keeps asking: Can Beane keep it going? Can he win every season? "Building for success and sustaining that success are two very different periods for any organization," observes Paul DePodesta, a smart young Harvard grad lured by Beane from the Toronto Blue Jays to be his assistant. "Of the two, sustaining is much harder."

Beane faces a perpetual uphill slog. In 2004, eight A's players will be guaranteed a total of $39 million in salary, notes Mark Shapiro, Cleveland Indians general manager and Beane's former assistant. "They will have to get 17 more players for about $11 million," Shapiro says. "They will have to make some tough choices." And in 2005, contracts with the team's trio of star pitchers -- Tim Hudson, Mark Mulder, and Barry Zito -- will start to expire. Undoubtedly, Beane won't have the money to keep them.

"Never bet against a guy like Billy," Shapiro argues. "His creativity is endless." His strategy is sound too. Yet Beane knows that, inevitably, he will have to rebuild, just as Shapiro is doing now in Cleveland. "The key," Beane says, "is identifying the moment" -- the time when continued success with incremental change has become impossible, when you have to cast off existing talent and start fresh. "The worst is when you try to do it halfway: when you think you can compete and you also think you're trying to rebuild. Then you're stuck in no-man's-land. You either do it or you don't."

Beane rises from his desk and saunters through the locker room: He wants to watch his pitchers throw before practice winds down for the day. He looks relaxed, but his demeanor will change once the season starts -- this, too, is almost guaranteed by past performance. Beane is famously monomaniacal, ardent, and controlling. "It's his ego. It's the game," says Keith Lieppmann, indicating that, for 11 months out of the year, the two are indistinguishable.

From April to October, Beane will arrive at his Coliseum office most days by 9 AM, and he'll stay there until that night's game ends 14 hours later. (He does this even though he often can't bear to see the game, preferring instead to drive around in his car and catch the tape later. "You can't do anything about it when you're watching," he says. "Sometimes it's easier when you don't have to endure that drip torture.")

For Beane, much of the off-season -- from the day following the World Series through January -- is even more intense, consumed with drafts, trades, and contracts. This is when Beane's front-office team refreshes and refines its models. This is when he plumbs the inefficiencies and mismatches of baseball's marketplace -- a painstaking, draining undertaking.

But today, Beane takes undiluted pleasure inspecting young pitchers throwing under Phoenix's February sun. Zito's fastball is popping. The system is working. The philosophy holds. Billy Beane is a genius. "Right now," he says, "is a good time." For the Oakland A's, there is hope, and there is certainty.