Voodoo Sabermetrics: Brian Wilson

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our 14th Edition of VooDoo Sabermetrics. We know, it's been way too long. Obscenely long. We promise we won't wait another year before you get to voodoo. At any rate, this week's subject is bearded San Francisco Giants closer Brian Wilson. It is no one's fault but his own that this post will be riddled with Youtube videos. Enjoy.

Sooze, Babes Love Baseball and Star Tribune...

Jolliness - Brian Wilson's jolliness knows no bounds. Even on a 3-2 count with the bases juiced he has a smirk on his face. Well, what's left of his face under that monstrous merkin he refers to as his epic beard. Apparently there's a maypole and sexy elves inside of it. And ninjas. No, you're not allowed to touch it. There's too much magic inside.

Wilson gets a giant tripping unicorn wielding two machine guns on the Jollity Scale.

Theme Song - It took me a while to think of a theme song for Mr. Wilson. The possibilities are endless. Generally speaking, his warm-up music is Jump Around -- that's House of Pain, kids -- but it just doesn't fit. However, I believe this one encompasses his personality and good looks quite well... Frank Zappa - Smell My Beard. Disc 2, Track #9 from the 1991 album You Can't Do That on Stage Anymore, Vol. 4. (You should probably get high first.)

Extra P., Bus Leagues Baseball...

Name Quality (nicknames included) - (Reporting live from the Final Four in Houston) Brian Wilson: One of my favorite words is 'disambiguation', mostly because that's how Wikipedia directs you to the right entry when there are several options by the same title. That's how it goes with Brian Wilson. You get Brian Wilson (musician), Brian Wilson (song) and Brian Wilson (systems scientist). Sports-wise, there are soccer players, poker dudes, and even an Australian Rules footballer. There is a Fox News reporter and a disturbing number of politicians sharing a name with our hero of the hour.

For sheer balls-out crazy behavior, the bar for this name was set pretty high by the former Beach Boy, who inspired the Barenaked Ladies song that also required some altered ambiguation over at the Wiki ranch. For a younger generation, we can safely say that ol' shoe-polish-in-the-beard is establishing a whole new rainbow of colors to attach to the name, and for that, we should all be thankful. As a name, Brian Wilson is nearly as boring as it gets. Now, thanks to a rock n' roll legend and a World Series winner, it has uber-flair. Somewhat to my chagrin, Brian Patrick Wilson has no nicknames that I am aware of. Let's fix this, America.

Hold up: premature disambiguation. Search turns up "Horse" and "B-Weez". All I can say on that is that Horse had better not be an allusion to how athletes beat the steroid piss-test by substituting animal urine. For the second, who uses Weez? Isn't Pauley Shore dead?


Tuffy, SB Nation Arizona...

Hardness Scale (Like the Mohs Hardness Scale but with more Tuffy) - Brian Wilson is a dying star, still dense but growing more unstable with each beard dye application. Stars are very hard, of course, except when orbited by Barbara Walters. Despite having started his inevitable implosion, Brian Wilson currently ranks a still-impressive 6.7 on Tuffy's Hardness Scale while his beard rates a 7.1. (He never cleans the old dye out before adding a new one.)

Just as an aside, why is there no art punk band named Brian Wilson's Beard? Why is there no Tears for Fears song called "Brian Wilson's Beard Said"? No one else? Just me? Alright then.

Horoscope - (Date of Birth: March 16, 1982) - Horoscopes only work for people born on Earth. Show us the birth certificate, Brian.

Monday Morning Punter, With Leather...

One-Liner - "Brian Wilson might have started the season lying in bed, but wouldn't it be nice to see him back Wednesday and throwing all summer long; as he buries hitters with his pitches and leaves his fans in stitches, there hasn't been a beard this fearful in baseball since A-Rod dated Madonna."


Jon Pyle, Pyle of List...

Hotness and SMI - You remember those guys you met in college that seemed bound and determined to fundamentally reinvent themselves now that they’d shed the shackles and chains of their lackluster high school existence? At some point they must have thumbed through the signatures imploring them to “never change” in their yearbook and realized they weren’t particularly cool, or even memorable for that matter. While building a playlist of nostalgic songs from the coolest buzzbands mentioned in Pitchfork, they ask “will anyone even know who I am at the 10 year reunion?” It’s likely that at that point, the person in question swore a blood oath to Maxim declaring that by the time they arrived on campus they would be someone else. They would be hip, they would be with it, they would be cool… for the first time in their life.

They shortened their government name, started going by their middle name or developed an unoriginal self-appointed moniker, broke the bank on Ironic Pop Culture Reference T-Shirts and whatever else the kids wear these days, got a new haircut and arrived on campus in the fall expecting to pull generic college hi-jinks movie-level babes. However, our protagonist forgot one core tenant of self-improvement: an interesting personality. But at that point it’s too late. They’re already on campus desperately clinging to the experience promised them by The School of Hard Knockers.

The solution? Add obvious and attention-grabbing affectations until someone notices. Perhaps they try to install a hot tub in their dorm room, wear a smoking jacket to class, or grow a beard and dye it mid-life crisis black. But in the end, they are a walking Dashboard Confessional song. They are obsessed with being popular/cool in a sad, sad way and their plan ends up backfiring because they’re just the weird guy who took Quarters WAAAAAYYYYY to seriously that one night and passed out in the elevator. This level of futility is the opposite of hot. If there’s one thing women can smell, besides another woman’s perfume, it’s desperation. And that is never sexy.

So Brian Wilson, let me say something to you mano a mano: stop trying so damn hard. Leave Charlie Sheen’s house and let us try to love you for who you really are.

With that said, Brian Wilson scores a douchebag from Die Hard shot in the face by Hans Gruber (DBFDHSITFBHG) on the Sexy Man Index (SMI).

Josh, Josh Q. Public...

Clutchiness - Down…The paint is peelin’…Now…When the chips are down…Down…You gotta lose all feelin’…Now…When the chips are down. – Terror Squad

According to the good folks over at the esteemed Baseball Prospectus, "There is virtually no evidence that any player or group of players possesses an ability to outperform his established level of ability in clutch situations, however defined." Well I’m here to tell you, like Flo from Alice would tell you, the good folks over at the esteemed Baseball Prospectus can kiss my grits. They can kiss my grits because clearly, the good folks over at the esteemed Baseball Prospectus, have never seen Brian Wilson pitch.

I don’t care that he’s having too much awesome on feet and wearing Juicemobiles like he did in his Major League debut. I don’t care that he’s hanging out with his bring out the gimplike friend, "the Machine." I don’t care that he ranks right up there on the wacky-o-meter with the likes of Bill "the Spaceman" Lee and "Super Joe" Charbeneau. I don't care what they say about us anyway. I don't care 'bout that. I don’t care about any of it because last season, whenever the Giants needed the door closed, Brian Wilson, like Leatherface, was there to slam it shut.

He slammed it shut during the regular season for a Giants' single season save record and Major League leading, 48 times. He slammed it shut in the final game of the season to win the division by striking out Will Venable on three straight pitches. Yes, I know what happened in Game 2 of the National League Division Series against the Atlanta Braves but you should know, for the entire post-season, Wilson allowed nary an earned run and a measley five hits in 112/3 innings of work. Yowza!

You should also know, in November, in the biggest moment of the biggest game of his career, on the world’s biggest stage, facing the biggest part of the Rangers’ order, the Great Bearded One, blessed be He, slammed the door shut on Texas en route to a World Championship. Josh Hamilton? I hear you knockin’ but you can’t come in. Vladdy? I hear you knockin’ but you can’t come in. Nelson Cruz? I hear you knockin’ but you can’t come in. Knock knock. Who’s there? Brian Wilson bitch!


Before we leave you with your newly-disturbed thoughts, here's a little something from our creative buddies over at PM Sports. Always a treat...

Check back real soon for our next edition of Voodoo Sabermetrics!