The Moment of Zen:
I feel like an imposter, often. Maybe daily. This feeling is my kryptonite and always has been. Wherever I am, no matter how well I may be doing, no matter how much encouragement or praise others have given me, I have this deep sense that I do not belong here.
The above paragraph isn’t a cry for help – it’s simply something I have become aware of, finally, after many years of not understanding what was happening. I often feel like an outsider. But if you were watching me, you likely wouldn’t know I felt such a thing. In fact, more than once (or twice or a thousand times), I have been considered arrogant, pretentious. The funny thing: usually, when accused of such ego, my actions likely justify the charge, but the confidence others around me see, for most of my life, has been a mask. If you see this person who is absolutely certain he knows what he is doing, maybe you won’t see how confused and unsettled he really is.
As I’ve become more aware of Buddhist practice and benefitted from the self-awareness it makes possible, I have grown more comfortable with this imposter self. Perhaps, I don’t belong. Perhaps, I’m imagining what I feel. Either way, I find the world easier to face.
In his book Buddhism Without Beliefs, Stephen Batchelor summarizes my lifelong fears with an analogy of a snake in a garden shed. He begins by considering someone working with clay: “When you first try to make a pot on a wheel, the clay does not obey your fingers. You end up with a wet, muddy mess. With practice, though, you become adept at handling clay in relation to the spin of the wheel and can create functional and beautiful things” (68). Batchelor then contrasts our ability to work with the spin of the wheel, gravity, the density of the material by considering how we often work with ourselves: “I likewise have become adept at configuring myself from the spinning clay of my existence, creating a personality, a home, friendships, children, ideas. If only the endeavor were not disfigured by confusion and turmoil. Frustration and bitterness grow instead of compassion and understanding. I silently rage at a world that fails to appreciate me. I want just to be left in peace, to be loved and accepted, but for some reason people either ignore me or dismiss me” (68).
The difference between the work with the clay of the pot and the clay of our lives is subtle, nuanced, but essential. Our experiences in working with pottery help us to know that we cannot force the clay into a shape, or we “end up with a wet, muddy mess.” Instead, we learn to guide and be guided by the clay. We do not try to create per se as much as we allow the creation of the pot to simply happen. With ourselves, however, we often try to bend and smash, poke and prod, until we have our desired life shape. Batchelor explains, “So I set out on the absurd task of reordering the world to fit my agenda. I try to create a perfect situation, one in which I have everything I want and nothing I don’t want. I dream of a life in which all imperfections are removed. In doing so I find myself at odds with the very presence of things” (68-9).
I have noticed that when I go to an artisan craft market or an estate sale, the pots, drinking glasses, vases, and the like that I find there all seem to be more expensive when there are “imperfections” in them. When we see an object that has clearly been human made, right down to the object’s “lack” of symmetrical perfection, most of us admire its beauty much more than anything created by machines in a factory. Yet, with my own life, I have always been worried about my “imperfections” being clear. When my life is asymmetrical, I assume I have failed even while I gather more money to pay for the asymmetrical pot I’m holding in my hand. Weird. Batchelor astutely observes the same process with his own actions and feelings: “I do not experience matter, mood, perception, and impulse as such but as unique chaotic moments configured in unprecedented and unrepeatable ways. The complex specificity becomes present because I name what I experience. Do I ever perceive a dangerous arrangement of shapes and color? No. There’s a snake in the pottery shed!” (69).
Catch the difference? With the pot I hold in my hand, I see the “imperfections” as what they are: an authentic part of the craft-making process, a reminder of human creativity and skill. With my life, I see a blob of colors and interpret it as a snake in the shed. Perhaps, much of our life is guided by perceptions of snakes that actually aren’t there as opposed to the raw authenticity that is actually present.
How in the world does this apply to fantasy baseball?
When I first entered the “high stakes” fantasy world, I did so with a core belief that I could succeed. But my practice for the first few years indicated that larger than my thought that I could be a good player was a fear that I would fail spectacularly.
A moment that comes to mind is an NFBC Gladiator draft I was once in. A well-known and highly successful fantasy player (as in, a winner of multiple overall titles) was in the draft, and he left a Zoom link in the chat with a note that he would be streaming the draft for his podcast and that anyone interested could jump on the call. Without thinking enough about the snake I would find in the shed, I clicked the link. On the call was a group of 5 or 6 other people, all of them well-known players. If I were to name them, those of you with some knowledge of the fantasy arena would recognize their names with no problem.
My issue – the snake in the shed – was that I definitely knew who they were. And it was exciting to be on the call, and it was paralyzing. What would happen when I made terrible picks with these guys in the room with me? How much of a fool would I appear to be? How much would I prove that I didn’t belong?
I don’t remember how well I did in that league. I do remember that I lived and died with each draft pick I made to the point that I couldn’t really say I enjoyed the experience that night. If I had it to do over, I think I would have a blast because I now truly enjoy playing with really good fantasy players. I also know that those guys on the call that night have all beaten me at one point or another, but that I have beaten each of them at one point or another as well. That night, all I could really think of was trying to hide in plain sight, not show my imperfections to these guys whose games I respected. I went back and listened to the podcast shortly after the draft; I don’t plan to listen to it again. I don’t really like the version of me I heard, the continual questioning and criticizing of each pick I made. Not that the questioning and criticism came from the others on the call. No, it’s my voice I heard, a continual stream of self-critical narration.
Since then, my approach has changed dramatically. With the help of self-awareness of Buddhist practice, I have become more attuned to the snakes in the shed that I create from nothing. I have learned that, when in a draft, my fears of others thinking my picks are foolish, or ignorant, or embarrassing are almost certainly created in my imagination. Not because I now think I am better than those players. But because I have learned, mostly anyway, to stop creating my own obstacle to success. The fact of the matter is: My opponents in a draft or a league are almost certainly not the least bit concerned about anything I do. Not only do they probably not notice terrible picks I might make (I do make them, after all), but they probably don’t notice anything at all about what I’m doing. Just as I barely notice what they might be doing. What they see or don’t about my game, what I see or don’t about theirs, it simply doesn’t matter.
This has become most clear when I am willing to draft players I like, but seem to be on an island in doing so. In the past, if I really liked a player while other managers clearly didn’t, I assumed I was wrong. There must have been something I wasn’t seeing. And then I would often shy away from drafting those guys even though I had been confident in their ability to help my team. After some time (and many drafts), I was eventually able to convince myself that whatever I was seeing was probably right. That other managers, good players, were probably wrong. That I should believe in my assessment, even if everyone else in the room thought I was stupid.
That approach was actually no better than seeing the snake in the shed. Instead, I was trying to “create a perfect situation, one in which I have everything I want and nothing I don’t want,” just as Batchelor described.
When I am in my right mind, my wise action is to worry about neither option. Perhaps, my opponents think I’m an idiot. Perhaps, my opponents are all wrong about the player. Or, most likely, neither option 1 nor 2 has the slightest bit to do with whether I will be successful in the particular league. My choice is what I have. That is what I can control, and it is what matters. That’s it.
This year, I’ve noticed a number of players that I love to draft yet others seem to want nothing to do with them. I could worry about what I’m not seeing that my opponents do. I could assume my opponents know nothing while I’m correct. Neither is a good option though. Instead, I assess the players as I understand them. Here are two such examples this year. This week, I’ll focus on two pitchers going post-200 ADP: Jack Flaherty and Shane McClanahan.
Jack Flaherty
Flaherty has undoubtedly underperformed based on our expectations of him after his first full season (2018) of 151 IP with a 3.34 ERA, 182 K, 1.11 WHIP and a 29.6% K% contrasted with a 9.6% BB%, allowing him to reach the magic number of 20% K-BB% that many of us chase when looking for pitchers to draft. Flaherty’s 2019 numbers were also quite impressive, but in four of the six seasons since, his ERA has been well into the 4+ range (even approaching 5). His WHIPs in 2022 and 2023 (around 1.6) made him look unplayable, especially considering his K% bottomed out at 19.8% in a 2022 season shortened by injury.
His 2024 season gave drafters hope that he had rediscovered the magic: 3.17 ERA with a 29.9% K%. He looked like he was back, and he looked filthy. His 2025 drafters were then punished with a 4.64 ERA and a 1.28 WHIP (which he managed to lower from earlier in the season when those numbers were really bad). Yikes.
It’s understandable why Flaherty is being picked after ADP 200 for 2026, but I think he is likely dramatically underpriced. His 27.6% K% tells us he was still missing plenty of bats, and he was at 18.9% K-BB% for the season, still a very good number. His xERA was 3.97, not stellar, but much better than his actual 4.64 ERA. His LOB% was only 70.5%, his lowest full-season LOB% of his career. His career 76.1% suggests positive regression is coming. The .305 BABIP he faced isn’t exceptionally unlucky, but it’s well above his .286 career number.
After a very difficult first half of last year, the months of July, August, and Sep/Oct were certainly better. He got HRs under control, going from 1.7 HR/9 in the first 3 months to 0.6 HR/9 after the ASB. His K% dropped somewhat in the second half, but he maintained somewhere between 15.2 and 20% K-BB% for the final 3 months. His bloated August ERA (5.51) corresponded with a miniscule (and quite likely unlucky) 57.8% LOB%. His WHIP dropped to the area where it’s damaging to ratios but not overwhelming. And he gave up more soft contact in the final 3 months.
I could keep going, but I think you get the picture. As long as we understand who Flaherty is – he’ll provide Ks, lots of them, but he will also likely have 1.25-1.3 WHIP – and who he isn’t (not the guy who had a 3.34 ERA and 1.11 WHIP in 2018; expect closer to 4 and 1.3), we can structure rosters around what he does well while supplementing for what he doesn’t. If I can consistently get Flaherty and his Ks between ADP 195-200, his skills outweigh his warts at that price. I’m in.
Shane McClanahan
My other target that I seem to be alone in loving is McClanahan. His injury history justifies anyone and everyone if they run away from drafting him. He hasn’t played a single game since 2023 – not great. But no one can deny that, when the guy pitches, he’s good, really good. All reports from the spring are positive. Of the highest importance, he has pitched this spring, only 2 innings, but he has pitched – and he felt well while doing so. Rays’ staff is reporting no delays or major concerns, so by all accounts, he is not as much Shane McClanahan who has been injured since 2023. For now, he is just a pitcher trying to build up his pitch count before the season starts, and what this guy can do with his arm is impressive. Do I think he will pitch 200 innings this year? No, of course not. But he doesn’t have to with a mid-200s ADP. If he pitches 100 innings and pulls in 120 Ks, he is well worth that low, low price. I’d draft him in the mid-100s if I had to; at 250ish, the opportunity is too good to pass up at such a low cost.
Of course, I might be wrong about Flaherty and McClanahan. Drafting these guys might blow up in my face. Fortunately, with some help from my practice, I’m not as concerned about the what ifs. The what ifs may indeed happen, but they may not. I think these guys are worth drafting even if the rest of the market doesn’t seem to share in my enthusiasm; in fact, to me, they’re worth the risk even if they end up at a higher cost. If my belief blows up and takes my team with it, I can work with that. At least I failed on my own terms, without fear of snakes in the shed that aren’t really there.
Until next week. –ADHamley
