Over the past decade or so, Major League Baseball has seen sabermetrics — a study of statistics more in-depth than the sport’s traditional counting stats — grow from a passing interest to a way of life for many front offices.
    First made popular by the book — and later, the movie — Moneyball, featuring the Oakland A’s rise to power despite a paltry payroll, sabermetrics have become the poster child for leveling the competitive playing field. When poorer teams weren’t able to spend enough to go after the most prized players, a few forward-thinking general managers and scouts were able to dig deeper into statistics and find inexpensive players whose contributions were being overlooked by deep-pocketed franchises.
    That all makes for a great feel-good story; hence the successful movie and book. But what was once an effective tool for finding those diamonds in the rough is quickly becoming a runaway train that is taking from the game just as much as it gives.
    Sabermetrics aren’t inherently bad. Chances are that the teams still standing come playoff time will have at least one or two key players who found their way to their respective teams thanks to a key skill set that the system values. The problem is that because of the zealot-like touting of the virtues of sabermetrics by its proponents, additional advanced metrics — and increased dependence on them — is creating the same sort of sinkhole that analysts complained about when teams looked no farther than home runs or strikeouts when deciding which players to sign.
    To better illustrate this concept, look at a guy like recently departed Braves outfielder Jason Heyward.
    To put it bluntly, Heyward was the high school girl crush of every sabermetrician. He hits for power and takes a lot of walks while covering plenty of ground in the outfield to boot. To be sure, those are qualities that anyone would want for a player, but the extent to which attributes like these were valued caused Heyward to arrive in Atlanta in 2010 as the Braves’ next franchise player before he had played his first pro game. Heyward was never a bad player, but he certainly never became that franchise player.
    And the main reasons why he didn’t become that superstar? Well, they were mostly the result of things that sabermetrics pushes to the fringes.
    Heyward had home run and doubles power, but didn’t show it nearly enough with runners on base. It might not have been his fault that other players weren’t on base ahead of him, but managing to get runs home is a huge part of the game, regardless of what sabermetrics thinks of the RBI. Heyward has also failed to capitalize on his speed as his range in the outfield has translated to just 64 steals and a 72.7 percent stolen base success rate for his career.
    And then there was his lack of hitting in the clutch — a premise that advanced metrics regards as an irrelevant, if not non-existent, concept.
    For all the reasons computers and algorithms gave to support Heyward’s destiny of becoming a perennial force, it’s his shortcomings in the tried-and-true methods of evaluating production that will produce few people outside of Atlanta (and maybe St. Louis nowadays) that would put Heyward anywhere near a discussion of the game’s best players.
    But that’s just a criticism of sabermetrics on the individual level. The real damage that a strict adherence to the new wave of analysis is doing is happening at the team level.
    Whereas sabermetrics originally served as a vehicle for poorer teams to try and level the playing field, overreliance on the system is now creating an annual camp of haves and have-nots. In the world of franchises relying too heavily on analytics, being a team that is saving money and stockpiling prospects while losing 90 games is preferable to being a somewhat talented team that might fall just short of the postseason.
    As a result, there are far fewer season-long races for division titles. At the same time, there are far more teams testing the patience of their fans by giving up on a season at the first sign of trouble or — in some cases — intentionally fielding non-competitive teams for a few years in hopes of rebuilding.
    Just look at the 2015 Braves.
    There is little doubt that this year’s edition of the Braves is less talented and will fare worse than the 2014 Atlanta team. There is also little doubt that, given the progression of young players and the team’s financial ability to sign or retain veterans, the Braves could have taken a step forward instead of back this season.
    Names like Justin Upton, Gattis and Kimbrel will now be replaced by Maybin, Bethancourt and Grilli. The Braves could have easily kept all three of those stars, but are opting instead to tear it all down. And why? Because the metrics say that Washington should still be better than even the best team the Braves could have fielded?
    In a game with over a century of history, teams should know better than to think that a certain set of stats can outmaneuver the injuries, oddities and streaks that are engrained into the identity of baseball.
    Maybe this all works out for Atlanta — or for any other team intentionally holding back until it can assemble just the right mix of guys to fit the sabermetrics mold of a good team.
    Maybe the prospects and draft picks rounded up by the Braves in the offseason pan out and usher in the next golden era of Braves baseball.
    But until that happens, the Braves — and any other team following their current strategy — are doing themselves a disservice. Chasing certain prospects with specific tools isn’t any more likely to win future games than just going with the old stand-by of running with the guys who can hit the farthest and throw the hardest.
    At the end of the day, OPS, RC+, UZR and FIP (all advanced metric terms, I swear) are only a footnote to the final score.
    It’s been said for generations that games aren’t played on paper or in the stat sheets.
    So why try to rebuild a team based more on math class than batting practice?

    Mike Anthony may be reached at (912) 489-9408.