In a move that shatters the bleachers and the spirits of stat nerds everywhere, a massive statistical model declared a new baseball GOAT after crunching billions of simulated at-bats.

Experts say the spreadsheet did not blink, it calculated, and then crowned a winner with a confidence interval wide enough to confuse a meteorologist.

The model’s victory lap involved a slow orbit around the MLB’s memory banks, before politely requesting more RAM.

Fans are divided: is this triumph or a reminder that the greatest athlete might just be a string of optimized decimals?

Coaches whispered that perhaps practice schedules should be written in code now, just to appease the algorithm.

The new Greatest is defined by a cocktail of on-base percentage, slugging, and a dash of machine learning magic.

There is small print: the model has never played a single inning and lives in a server room with the sweet scent of coffee.

The Babe’s ghost reportedly declined to comment, noting that the only stat that matters is the one printed on a concession stand napkin.

Sportswriters faced an existential crisis as their opinion columns morphed into complex code reviews.

A veteran scout admitted he once trusted grit and rumors, but now respects the p-value that says he’s almost obsolete.

Fans started wearing jerseys bearing the equation for R-squared, as if algebra could fill the stands.

Merchandisers floated plans to print charts on the outfield wall, because nothing sells like a big, friendly graph.

Ticket prices surged for the day the model makes a public appearance on the stadium’s center-field screen.

In the end, baseball may be entering an era where the game is decided by digits, and fans are left cheering the soundtrack of clacking keyboards.