The Man from S.C.R.A.P.

The Scientific Perfection of Matt Carpenter

Rob Mitchum
Double Birds

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Deep in a sub-basement under the boondoggle cover story known as “Ballpark Village,” the St. Louis Cardinals maintain a state-of-the-art scientific facility. Only a select few people in the organization know of the laboratory’s existence — and those who do are loathe to speak of it out of both fear of retribution and the horror of its contents. Within its blast-proof walls are vat after vat of gruesome failures, the results of advanced genetic engineering gone unspeakably wrong. But even those who consider the work to be a crime against nature can’t argue with the results, the reliable and improving success of the program known only as S.C.R.A.P.

Seeded in 1999 from the DNA of a subject with the code name “Little Mac,” and under the direction of a shadowy figure known only as “The Secret Weapon,” the S.C.R.A.P. program has refined its methods and produced one or two specimens each year since. Through careful breeding and selective mutation, scientists select for target characteristics such as infield positional versatility, the ability to get a uniform completely covered in dirt in three innings or less, and a tendency to reach athletic peak performance in late September/early October. The prototypes were bred for unimpressive stature and given innocuous names such as Nick or Pete or Skip, to avoid attracting attention from the league and media. Then they were deployed in the field.

Early models were hit or miss, such as “Stubby Clapp” and “Bo Hart,” units that reflected too dense a concentration of physically unassuming qualities combined with conspicuous codenames that nearly blew the cover on the program in its infancy. Another product, “David Eckstein,” performed almost too well, becoming a figure of obsession for sportswriters around the country who got wind of the word “scrap” and misunderstood it as an intangible skill instead of a state-of-the-art and very unethical genetic modification program.

But the organization continued to support S.C.R.A.P.; the incentives were just too high. Put enough star hitters into the other positions on the field, and you can get by with an endless procession of cheap, replaceable middle infielders, carefully designed to hide behind mediocre performance until the autumn months. If another team was so foolish as to pluck one of these “role players” off the Cardinals roster in free agency, there was always another Brendan or Ryan or Tyler model ripening to take its place (oh, and the talent self-destruct gene to disable the departing player).

In recent years, the program was an unqualified success. Models “Ryan Theriot,” “Nick Punto,” “Pete Kozma,” and “Daniel Descalso” all contributed perfectly timed short-term skill boosts to pennant races and playoff series from 2011 through 2013. New variants toyed with the formula. “Skip Schumaker,” allowed the Cardinals to hide a prototype in the outfield until converting him to his predestined middle infield role. “Brendan Ryan” provided defensive value visible only to advanced analytics that almost nobody believes. Baseball fans bemoaned the Cardinals’ luck, while some observers got dangerously close to the truth*, but mostly the S.C.R.A.P. program executed its mission quietly behind the scenes.

Until last year, when the crowning achievement of S.C.R.A.P. scientists may very well have rendered the program obsolete. “Matt Carpenter” was supposed to be a simple upgrade to the “Skip Schumaker” model, this time with four-corners backup capabilities but similar lefty contact abilities, magnetism towards dirt, a gritty no-batting-gloves policy, and a name as bland as a computer-generated fictional player. The imperfections — a height on the wrong side of 6 feet, and a rogueish charm more leading man than little brother — could be overlooked.

At least until last year, when Carpenter was called upon to move to 2nd base and fulfill his intended design. Placed into the everyday lineup, the model far exceeded his built-in parameters, hitting a league-leading 55 doubles, scoring 126 runs, and becoming one of the most valuable 2nd basemen in the major leagues. His success (and nearly .400 OBP) was so undeniable that even manager Mike Matheny — not usually prone to unorthodox strategy — moved him into the lead-off spot despite not conforming to the traditional speedster stereotype. Despite the skeptics, Carpenter’s performance never regressed, even hitting nearly .300 in the World Series while the rest of the team slumbered.

His incredible season put the Cardinals — and S.C.R.A.P. — in a tough spot. The replaceable commodity had suddenly, shockingly become a star, and to not cling to him would be seen as both baseball stupid…and suspicious. Hence, a 6 year, $52 million contract, and an implicit promotion to the core of the Cardinals future alongside the last two long-term extended players, Yadier Molina and Adam Wainwright.

Although Carpenter will move to third base this season after David Freese’s departure, the omens are not good for S.C.R.A.P. This offseason, the Cardinals signed Jhonny Peralta — the product of an entirely different strain of scientific augmentation — and promoted Kolten Wong, a prospect was openly cultivated in the farm system instead of S.C.R.A.P. headquarters. Even more distressingly, they also imported shortstop Aledmys Diaz, already described as the “Cuban Descalso,” suggesting that Fidel Castro may have been running his own secret baseball engineering facility. The original Descalso and the Kozma prototypes may still be on the roster, but look increasingly like surplus material.

There’s nothing more dangerous in science than success. Having met and even exceeded its goals, the S.C.R.A.P. laboratory finds itself with dwindling funds and a diminished role within the organization. A layer of dust settles on the next-gen sequencers, the pipette racks, the fume hoods, the incubator vats. On a flickering monitor, “Matt Carpenter” laces another line drive into the right-field corner, the apex and terminus of the Surprisingly Capable Runtish Athletic Prototype program.

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Rob Mitchum
Double Birds

I write about science and music for the University of Chicago, Pitchfork and other places.