It is often said that baseball is unique among sports in that it is not run by a clock – but this is only true if the clock is restricted to counting hours, minutes, and seconds. The baseball clock runs on outs. Each team is given 27 outs, baseball’s version of mortality. Like the days of our lives, an out not used profitably is gone forever.

So far this season, the Yankees have been giving away outs like they were sausage samples at a pre-Christmas smoked meat sale. Take Tony Womack (please). The slap hitting second-baseman-cum-left-fielder is currently maintaining a batting line of .242 AVG/.284 OBA/.272 SLG. This is bad enough on the surface of it, given that the average American league hitter is batting .265/.328/.417. Compare him to the average AL left fielder – .280/.337/.434 – and it gets worse.

Womack has made 131 outs this year, which is to say that by himself he’s burned five games’ worth of outs. To look at it another way, Joe Torre has given Womack 9% of the team’s total plate appearances to work with. In return, Womack has been responsible for generating approximately 18 runs of offense, or 5%.This works out to .14 runs an out.

Had the Yankees devoted the same number of outs to a league-average player, the results would be starkly different. For example, the just-released designated hitter of the Devil Rays, Josh Phelps, hit almost exactly the league average, batting .266/.328/.424; he generated .31 runs per out. Given as many chances as Womack, he would have put another 23 runs on the scoreboard (or 41), tantamount to two more wins for the Yankees.

Or say the Yankees picked up an unspectacular but competent offensive player like Pittsburgh’s Matt Lawton (.276/.371/.453), whom the Pirates would like to move in the coming weeks. Lawton has made almost exactly the same number of outs as Womack (132), in his case because he bats high in the order. Yet, he has generated approximately 21 more runs.

The blame for this profligate waste of offensive resources doesn’t belong to whichever of the Yankee front office’s contending parties signed Womack, but to Joe Torre. It is the manager, after all, who continues to play Womack while compounding the sin by keeping him at the top of the order.

When you peel away things like dealing with the press and policing the clubhouse, the manager’s main job is to help his team if he can and when he can’t, to do no harm. Every time Torre writes Womack’s name on the lineup card, he does the team irreparable harm. His rationale is that Womack’s speed gives the team “variety,” which in practice means that Womack gets from home plate to first base to the dugout on a pop-out faster than the average player.

The fault is not even Womack’s. He’s simply doing what he’s capable of. Through 2003, when Womack was 33, the infielder was a career .270/.315/.359 hitter. This is exceedingly poor, and it doesn’t take the baseball acumen of a Branch Rickey to see that at the advanced baseball age of 35, Womack’s skills might decay to historically bad levels.

What somehow made this understanding difficult for the Yankees was Womack’s 2004 campaign. In what will go down as one of the game’s more unlikely fluke seasons, Womack batted .307/.349/.385 for the National League-champion Cardinals. Not only did the Yankees’ brain trust fail to regard this achievement with the degree of skepticism it deserved, but it also somehow neglected to see that as .300 seasons went, Womack had delivered less impact than a marshmallow dropped from a footstool.

He showed no power and didn’t get on base exceptionally often, the two skills necessary to produce runs. As for the benefits of his speed, Womack batted leadoff, hitting ahead of Albert Pujols, Scott Rolen, and Jim Edmonds, and scored only 91 runs. Any of these could have been a red flag, but the Yankees missed them.

Until Womack is traded or restricted to pinch-running, the Yankees will have trouble climbing back into the AL East pennant race. If they choose to be stubborn and keep him, New York fans can at least amuse themselves watching a Yankee who has a good chance at immortality. If he keeps up his current pace, Womack could reasonably take aim at the worst ever season by a Yankee hitter (probably shortstop Frank Crosetti, who batted .194/.299/.273 in 1940), or the worst ever season by a Yankee outfielder (Bill Robinson, who hit .196/.259/.281 in 1967).

Finally, there is the hope of seeing Womack become one of only 18 Yankees to finish a season of more than 450 plate appearances with on-base and slugging averages below .300, a fate that commonly occurred in the dead ball era but which is unusual now. It won’t be a trophy, but it will have to do.

Mr. Goldman is the author of “Forging Genius,” a biography of Casey Stengel, released this year.