See it high, let it fly. See it low, let it go ... or is it vice versa?

Some batters have no idea what they'€™re best at. I played nearly 10 years of Major League Baseball before I knew which pitches I actually struck well.

Jeff Sullivan'€™s recent JABO column contained the following anecdote about Billy Beane searching for men who do damage on balls down in the zone:

"€œBut here again, advanced data yielded a useful insight: Major league hitters had become so adept at hitting low pitches that they were vulnerable to high ones. Beane had discovered a particularly clever countermove. '€˜Beane stayed ahead of the curve,' says [Brent] Strom, '€˜by finding hitters with a steep upward swing path to counter the sinking action of pitchers trying to induce ground balls.' "

There are a ton of sharp baseball executives. They'€™re paid to be analytical; a hitter is paid to hit. You know what would be cool, though? If we batters had the same information GMs and front offices do and were able to digest it without becoming overwhelmed. What might we do with this knowledge?

Throughout my career, I assumed I was a high-ball hitter. Because I saw the ball up in the zone better, I (unreasonably) assumed I made better contact on that pitch. Duh. It was just closer to my eyes In 2009, a bright baseball man in the Tampa Bay Rays front office showed me the data. I had more success (stop laughing, it’s all relative) on the ball down in the zone.

I began hunting that low ball more often. The results were not dramatic; unless you were paying exceptionally close attention to my swings, you wouldn'€™t notice. It didn'€™t always work. Sometimes I looked to offer at the pitch down and swung at pitches at my letters. Even with that, it was a worthwhile change. Perhaps net-net, I struck one more ball a week with authority. Is that meaningful? Hell yes it is.