Enlivening the Mid-1970s: Part Two
Last time, we introduced our suspicion that the baseball in use from 1974 through 1976 was less lively than normal, and thus depressed power hitting by a factor of about 20%. We presented our methodology of adjusting the numbers to simulate a more typical hitting environment, and took a look at the resulting stat lines (presented in blue) of many of the more prominent batters. This time we’ll focus on the game’s most elite stars.
A Trio of Top-Notch Center Fielders
While not quite as good, Monday was a remarkably similar player to Jim Edmonds: a lefty batter and thrower, a big, athletic, graceful center fielder, a patient power hitter who was prone to striking out, and prone to getting hurt.
There’s a tendency among some modern fans to assume that all leadoff hitters of the 1960s and 1970s were slap-hitting speedsters with dubious OBP skills. It is true that there were several prominent such guys, in particular Luis Aparicio, Maury Wills, and Bert Campaneris. But it wasn’t at all true that such was the only manner of leadoff hitter around: Monday usually led off for the Cubs, and other power-hitting, high-strikeout leadoff men of the period included Bobby Bonds, Tommie Agee, and Tommy Harper.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 27 554 93 148 24 5 26 56 92 124 .267 .372 .469 .841 1974 28 541 88 161 20 7 24 61 69 95 .298 .377 .498 .875 1975 29 493 93 133 31 4 21 63 82 96 .270 .374 .477 .851 1976 30 537 112 148 22 5 39 81 59 126 .275 .347 .554 .901 1977 31 392 47 90 13 1 15 48 60 109 .230 .330 .383 .713 1978 32 342 54 87 14 1 19 57 49 100 .254 .348 .468 .816 1979 33 33 2 10 0 0 0 2 5 6 .303 .395 .303 .698
In 1973 it was only a question of how deeply within the Hall of Fame’s inner circle Cedeño would land, yet by 1979 he was playing first base and hitting rather like a middle infielder. His rapid injury-plagued deterioration has always raised the question in my mind of Cedeño’s true age, but even if he actually was two or three or even five years older than purported, that was still quite a descent.
Tremendous as the hitting and base running of the (however) young Cedeño were, the most impressive thing about him was his center field defense: he covered the vast green of the Astrodome as though it were the size of a pool table, and his arm was a shoulder-fired missile launcher.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 22 525 86 168 35 2 25 70 41 79 .320 .376 .537 .913 1974 23 613 100 167 31 5 32 107 63 104 .273 .340 .496 .836 1975 24 503 98 147 33 3 16 66 61 52 .292 .368 .466 .834 1976 25 578 93 174 28 5 22 87 54 51 .301 .361 .482 .843 1977 26 530 92 148 36 8 14 71 47 50 .279 .346 .457 .803 1978 27 192 31 54 8 2 7 23 15 24 .281 .333 .453 .786 1979 28 470 57 123 27 4 6 54 64 52 .262 .348 .374 .722
He was a bit fragile, but beyond that Otis was, as old Royals’ fan Bill James loved to observe, a plus player in every department.
So just how good would Joe Foy have had to turn out to be in order to make the Mets’ Otis-for-Foy trade come out even? Let’s not even consider Bob Johnson, the other guy the Mets included in the deal, whom the Royals were able to turn around and convert into Freddie Patek. Let’s ignore that part and just consider how well Foy would have had to play to be the equal of Otis.
Foy was just 26 when the Mets acquired him, and certainly they anticipated he would plug their third base hole for years to come. Otis, playing center field for the Royals, would earn between 17 and 29 Win Shares every season from 1970 through 1979, an average of 23.7 per year. How typical is it for a third baseman to have a run like that?
Graig Nettles was the best third baseman over the complete decade of the 1970s. Over the seasons 1970 through ’79—the best 10-year run of Nettles’ career—he never had a year with as many as 29 Win Shares, and earned an average of 22.2. Ron Cey, another terrific third baseman of the period, also never had a 29-Win Share season, and earned an average of 22.1 per year over his best 10 seasons.
Ken Boyer, the outstanding all-around third baseman for the Cardinals of the ’50s and ’60s, a seven-time All-Star and an MVP winner, earned 23.1 in his best 10 years. Bob Elliott, another power-hitting MVP winner, comes in at 23.0. Pie Traynor, the line-drive-hitting defensive wizard of the 1920s, puts up a 22.5. Jimmy Collins, the Hall of Famer generally regarded as the first great modern third baseman, clocks in at 23.0.
There have been, of course, a few third basemen who’ve put up better decade-long Win Share totals than Otis did as a center fielder. But the point is you have to get into the truly all-time elite to find them: Eddie Mathews (32.6), Ron Santo (27.5), Mike Schmidt (33.0), George Brett (27.0), and Wade Boggs (28.6). (Brooks Robinson comes in only slightly ahead of Otis, at 23.9.) That’s a telling measure of how remarkably well Otis did, and what kind of a tall order Foy faced to match it.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 26 583 89 175 21 4 26 93 63 47 .300 .368 .484 .852 1974 27 555 91 160 33 10 15 77 57 68 .288 .355 .462 .817 1975 28 472 91 118 28 6 11 48 65 48 .250 .341 .406 .747 1976 29 595 98 168 43 2 22 90 54 101 .282 .342 .473 .815 1977 30 478 85 120 20 8 17 78 71 88 .251 .342 .433 .775 1978 31 486 74 145 30 7 22 96 66 54 .298 .380 .525 .905 1979 32 577 100 170 28 2 18 90 68 92 .295 .369 .444 .813
A Quartet of Capital Catchers
Munson’s place in the popular consciousness is intriguing. When he was playing, Munson was a huge star, capturing an MVP (which in retrospect seems of questionable worthiness) and being universally respected (though not much liked) as a fearless, fiercely tough winner. His tragic mid-season death, which eliminated a decline-phase perspective from his career, might have ensured that Munson would become a larger-than-life figure in memory, deified by the Big Apple media into an unforgettable All-Time Great.
But somehow that’s never really happened. Munson today seems somewhat forgotten: dismissed by experts as having been overrated, and having been eclipsed in the Yankee Pantheon by Donnie Baseball in the 1980s, and the array of celebrated Bronx stars of the 1990s and 2000s.
Munson wasn’t as great a player as his reputation in the 1970s had it, but neither should he be overlooked. He was a fine-hitting catcher, solid defensively and amazingly durable, and his on-field presence truly did transcend his numerical contribution. He was a genuinely memorable player.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 26 519 80 156 29 4 20 74 48 64 .301 .362 .487 .849 1974 27 520 67 138 20 2 16 63 43 67 .265 .321 .404 .725 1975 28 601 87 194 26 3 15 107 44 52 .322 .369 .449 .818 1976 29 619 83 189 29 1 21 110 29 38 .306 .336 .457 .793 1977 30 595 85 183 28 5 18 100 39 55 .308 .351 .462 .813 1978 31 617 73 183 27 1 6 71 35 70 .297 .332 .373 .705 1979 32 382 42 110 18 3 3 39 32 37 .288 .340 .374 .714
Simba, on the other hand, seems somehow better regarded today than he generally was when he played. At the time, he was considered a pretty poor defensive catcher, and his rather goofy, fun-loving personality seemed to define his reputation more than his amazing bat. But from today’s vantage point we see more clearly just what a remarkable hitter Simmons was.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 23 619 62 192 36 2 13 91 61 47 .310 .370 .438 .808 1974 24 602 69 166 36 6 24 108 46 35 .276 .327 .478 .805 1975 25 585 84 197 34 3 22 105 62 35 .336 .400 .519 .919 1976 26 549 63 162 38 3 6 79 72 35 .295 .377 .409 .785 1977 27 516 82 164 25 3 21 95 79 37 .318 .408 .500 .908 1978 28 516 71 148 40 5 22 80 77 39 .287 .377 .512 .889 1979 29 448 68 127 22 0 26 87 61 34 .283 .369 .507 .876
Pudge in the 1970s was considered a potential superstar whose career was being severely marred by injuries. The Ageless Iron Man chapter he would write in Chicago was unimaginable at the time.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 25 508 65 125 21 0 26 71 37 99 .246 .309 .441 .750 1974 26 188 38 57 13 1 13 27 24 23 .303 .381 .598 .979 1975 27 265 49 89 15 4 12 55 27 32 .335 .396 .562 .958 1976 28 489 80 126 18 5 21 61 55 72 .258 .333 .445 .778 1977 29 536 106 169 26 3 26 102 75 85 .315 .402 .521 .923 1978 30 571 94 162 39 5 20 88 71 83 .284 .366 .475 .841 1979 31 320 49 87 23 2 10 42 10 38 .272 .304 .450 .754
Most everyone in the mid-1970s did appreciate how extraordinary it was to have such a group of terrific catchers in their primes, and Bench was unquestionably (and properly) regarded as the greatest among them. The rather rapid physical breakdown he would encounter in his 30s, and the unsuccessful conversion to third base (which we discussed here), were as yet unknown, and Bench through this period was held in near-awe.
Bench was the best-throwing catcher I have yet seen; the strength and accuracy of his arm was simply astounding. As a hitter, he could be pitched to: he attempted to pull everything, and thus saw a steady diet of low-and-away off-speed stuff that often resulted in topped grounders. But Bench was just so strong. His brawny shoulders, thick arms, and immense hands allowed him to wield a long heavy bat as though it were a hollow plastic Wiffle Ball model, and without over-swinging Bench calmly produced rockets that, if they didn’t clear the left field wall, seemed ready to pierce it.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 25 557 83 141 17 3 25 104 83 83 .253 .345 .429 .774 1974 26 624 113 177 41 2 40 135 79 91 .284 .364 .550 .914 1975 27 533 87 153 42 1 34 115 64 109 .287 .363 .562 .925 1976 28 467 65 111 26 1 20 78 80 96 .238 .349 .423 .772 1977 29 494 67 136 34 2 31 109 58 95 .275 .348 .540 .888 1978 30 393 52 102 17 1 23 73 50 83 .260 .340 .483 .823 1979 31 464 73 128 19 0 22 80 67 73 .276 .364 .459 .823
Some Old Lions
Okay, Allen wasn’t really very old at this point, but he was certainly in the process of physically falling apart, and he retired at least once in here. When healthy, and when willing, Allen swung one of the most potent bats that anyone has ever swung.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 31 250 39 79 20 3 16 41 33 51 .316 .394 .612 1.006 1974 32 465 88 142 25 1 39 92 56 90 .305 .380 .615 .995 1975 33 418 57 99 23 3 15 65 57 110 .237 .328 .411 .739 1976 34 299 55 81 17 1 18 51 36 63 .272 .351 .520 .871 1977 35 171 19 41 4 0 5 31 24 36 .240 .330 .351 .681
Like Allen, Yastrzemski was a gifted natural athlete, probably capable of excelling at the professional level in any number of sports. It’s easy to picture Allen as a light-heavyweight boxer, or as a free safety for the Eagles, and it’s easy to picture Yaz on the pro tennis tour, or as a defenseman for the Bruins.
But that’s where the similarities end. Allen was garrulous, and craved attention of any kind, while Yaz was kind of cranky, and never seemed comfortable in the spotlight. Allen’s attention to fielding was spotty and careless, while Yaz was intensely engaged in the defensive challenge, seeming to relish fielding more than hitting. And Allen’s approach to training involved mostly cigarettes and beer, while Yaz was a conditioning fanatic, devoting himself to weightlifting long before the practice was widely accepted in baseball.
The latter distinction between the two players plays out vividly in the shape their respective careers took in their 30s. While Allen became overweight and chronically hurt, Yaz was trim and durable, seeming to show no signs of age at all, remaining a consistent and productive regular right through the decade.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 33 540 82 160 25 4 19 95 105 58 .296 .407 .463 .870 1974 34 518 98 158 27 2 18 83 102 48 .305 .420 .471 .891 1975 35 546 95 149 32 1 17 63 79 68 .273 .364 .430 .794 1976 36 549 74 149 25 2 26 107 86 68 .271 .369 .464 .834 1977 37 558 99 165 27 3 28 102 73 40 .296 .372 .505 .877 1978 38 523 70 145 21 2 17 81 76 44 .277 .367 .423 .790 1979 39 518 69 140 28 1 21 87 62 46 .270 .346 .450 .796
The most “Similar Batter” to Stargell on baseball-reference.com is McCovey, and their similarities extend well beyond their left-handed slugging exploits. Both were extraordinarily warm personalities, genuinely beloved by their teammates. The towering leadership stature of “Pops” Stargell amid the “We Are Famalee” Pirates of 1979 gained him a co-MVP award at the age of 39 despite not playing enough to qualify for the league batting crowns (he would have tied for fifth in slugging).
This exercise adds 15 home runs to Stargell’s career total, giving him 490.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 33 522 106 156 43 3 44 119 80 129 .299 .392 .646 1.038 1974 34 511 94 156 40 4 31 101 86 107 .305 .405 .579 .984 1975 35 464 74 139 34 2 27 94 57 110 .299 .376 .556 .932 1976 36 430 57 112 22 3 24 68 49 102 .261 .336 .496 .832 1977 37 186 29 51 12 0 13 35 31 55 .274 .383 .548 .931 1978 38 390 60 115 18 2 28 97 50 93 .295 .382 .567 .949 1979 39 424 60 119 19 0 32 82 47 105 .281 .352 .552 .904
“Stretch” McCovey became so revered in the Giants’ organization that since his retirement, the players on the club vote annually for the Willie Mac Award, presented to the one among them who most lives up to McCovey’s model of selflessness and dedication.
McCovey’s comeback season of 1977, at 39 years old and with both knees beyond shot, was quite a story. Though he appeared to be completely washed up, McCovey approached the Giants and convinced them to give him a chance in spring training on a minor league contract; the ball club consented as a courtesy, probably expecting it would amount to little more than a PR stunt. McCovey proceeded not only to make the team, but to win the starting first base job, and finish 20th in the league’s MVP vote; his 86 RBIs that season were the most he’d produced since 1970.
McCovey’s arthritic knees were so bad that since about 1990, he has been completely unable to walk. Yet, in a wheelchair he remains an ever-popular fixture at the Giants’ downtown ballpark, and the finger of the San Francisco Bay into which splash the most prodigious home run blasts by left-handed sluggers will forever be known as McCovey Cove.
McCovey here would have achieved a lifetime total of 533 home runs, surpassing Ted Willams and falling just short of Jimmie Foxx.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 35 383 52 102 14 3 29 75 105 78 .266 .420 .546 .966 1974 36 346 56 89 20 1 27 66 94 77 .256 .416 .555 .971 1975 37 415 45 106 18 0 28 71 56 81 .255 .344 .503 .847 1976 38 227 21 47 10 0 9 38 24 43 .207 .281 .362 .644 1977 39 478 54 134 21 0 28 86 67 106 .280 .367 .500 .867 1978 40 351 32 80 19 2 12 64 36 57 .228 .298 .396 .694 1979 41 353 34 88 9 0 15 57 36 70 .249 .318 .402 .720
In Aaron’s two victory-lap seasons with the Brewers, he didn’t have much left. But in his run toward Babe Ruth’s record, with the Braves at ages 35 through 40, Bad Henry was a relentless long ball machine.
This exercise has him winding up with 764 … would that be within Barry’s reach?
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 39 392 84 118 12 1 40 96 68 51 .301 .402 .643 1.045 1974 40 342 49 93 17 0 24 72 38 29 .271 .345 .536 .881 1975 41 467 47 111 17 2 15 63 69 51 .238 .336 .378 .714 1976 42 272 23 63 9 0 12 37 34 38 .232 .318 .398 .717
And Some Young Lions
Even in his early career, Lynn was prone to injury, and maddeningly inconsistent. But when he was at his best, few have ever been much better.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1974 22 43 5 18 2 2 2 10 6 6 .419 .490 .698 1.188 1975 23 531 108 178 51 7 26 110 61 91 .336 .404 .604 1.008 1976 24 510 80 162 34 8 12 68 47 68 .318 .375 .490 .866 1977 25 497 81 129 29 5 18 76 51 63 .260 .327 .447 .774 1978 26 541 75 161 33 3 22 82 75 50 .298 .380 .492 .872 1979 27 531 116 177 42 1 39 122 82 79 .333 .423 .637 1.060
Like Lynn, Rice’s raw stats were significantly boosted by the Fenway Park effect, but like Lynn, raw stats that good are still hugely impressive. From the vantage point of 1979, both appeared to be on the inside track to Cooperstown, but for both, that would be the high point.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1974 21 67 6 18 2 1 1 14 4 12 .269 .312 .390 .703 1975 22 567 97 177 31 4 27 107 35 123 .312 .353 .525 .878 1976 23 584 79 167 27 8 31 89 28 124 .286 .318 .518 .836 1977 24 644 104 206 29 15 39 114 53 120 .320 .376 .593 .969 1978 25 677 121 213 25 15 46 139 58 126 .315 .370 .600 .970 1979 26 619 117 201 39 6 39 130 57 97 .325 .381 .596 .977
Speaking of tremendous young players who took a wrong turn on the way to Cooperstown … Parker would soon hang a u-turn straight into a ditch, from which it would take him several years to emerge.
Following this year’s Home Run Contest telecast the evening before the All-Star Game, did you leave the TV on, and watch the celebrity/retired-All-Star softball game? Against my better judgment, I did, and it was pretty much the predictable waste of time. However, one moment redeemed it: since Parker and Gary Carter were both taking part in the softball game, they intercut a replay of the throw Parker made during the 1979 All-Star Game, which Carter received to put the tag on Brian Downing. Parker’s clothesline on-the-fly strike from medium-deep right field was, to this day, the single greatest throw I have ever witnessed.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 22 139 17 40 9 1 4 14 2 27 .288 .308 .453 .761 1974 23 221 28 63 11 3 5 30 10 53 .286 .316 .429 .745 1975 24 561 79 175 38 11 31 106 37 90 .312 .355 .580 .936 1976 25 540 86 171 30 11 16 94 30 81 .317 .352 .500 .852 1977 26 637 107 215 44 8 21 88 58 107 .338 .397 .531 .928 1978 27 581 102 194 32 12 30 117 57 92 .334 .394 .585 .979 1979 28 622 109 193 45 7 25 94 67 101 .310 .380 .526 .906
Foster’s career took an odd shape: he struggled for quite a while before getting it going, and he faded quickly after reaching his peak. But what a peak it was. The impossibly slim-waisted Foster generated spectacular power for a few years.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 24 39 6 11 3 0 4 9 4 7 .282 .349 .667 1.016 1974 25 277 33 74 19 0 9 43 30 52 .268 .338 .431 .769 1975 26 466 74 142 26 4 28 82 39 74 .304 .358 .559 .917 1976 27 565 90 175 23 10 35 127 51 90 .310 .367 .572 .939 1977 28 615 124 197 31 2 52 149 61 107 .320 .382 .631 1.013 1978 29 604 97 170 26 7 40 120 70 138 .281 .360 .546 .906 1979 30 440 68 133 18 3 30 98 59 105 .302 .386 .561 .947
Winfield, an amazingly talented all-around athlete, was also somewhat slow to develop after skipping over the minor leagues altogether. He never would scale quite the offensive heights of any of these others, but once he reached his peak Winfield just sort of held it forever, far outlasting all the rest of these guys, and breezing into the Hall of Fame.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 21 141 9 39 4 1 3 12 12 19 .277 .331 .383 .714 1974 22 500 60 134 19 4 24 79 39 97 .269 .322 .471 .793 1975 23 512 78 139 22 2 18 80 68 83 .271 .356 .429 .785 1976 24 495 85 142 28 4 16 72 64 79 .286 .368 .456 .824 1977 25 615 104 169 29 7 25 92 58 75 .275 .335 .467 .802 1978 26 587 88 181 30 5 24 97 55 81 .308 .367 .499 .866 1979 27 597 97 184 27 10 34 118 85 71 .308 .395 .558 .953
Three Emerging High-Average Specialists
In addition to their remarkable base hit production, a characteristic these three shared was baserunning ferocity: you did not want to be a middle infielder trying to turn a double play in the face of one of these charging rhinos.
Looking at Madlock’s major league stats, including breaking in with that .351 September call-up at the age of 22, you’d think he was one of those guys who were hitting line drives right out of the womb. But the fact is Madlock hadn’t hit especially well in the minors before that year: he hit .269 in Class A in 1970, .234 in Double-A in 1971, and then .292 in 192 at-bats in combined Double-A and Triple-A in ’72. Then suddenly in 1973, with Spokane in the Pacific Coast League, things clicked: Madlock hit .338 (second in the league) with 22 homers (fifth) in 491 at-bats before the late-season promotion to the majors. He would basically stay hot for the next decade or so.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 22 77 16 27 5 3 1 5 7 9 .351 .412 .532 .944 1974 23 456 68 145 23 5 11 57 41 39 .317 .374 .463 .837 1975 24 517 81 185 31 7 9 67 41 34 .358 .406 .497 .903 1976 25 517 71 177 39 1 18 88 55 27 .343 .406 .528 .934 1977 26 533 70 161 28 1 12 46 43 33 .302 .360 .426 .786 1978 27 447 76 138 26 3 15 44 48 39 .309 .378 .481 .859 1979 28 560 85 167 26 5 14 85 52 41 .298 .355 .438 .793
McRae’s late-20s transformation from a pull-oriented fly ball hitter (and a utility man) into an all-fields line drive hitter (and a star), under the tutelage of batting guru Charley Lau, was simply astonishing. Few such frog-into-a-prince stories unfold at the major league level.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 27 338 36 79 18 3 9 50 34 38 .234 .312 .385 .697 1974 28 542 74 170 39 4 18 92 53 69 .314 .375 .502 .877 1975 29 483 61 150 41 6 6 74 46 47 .310 .370 .459 .830 1976 30 530 79 178 37 5 10 77 63 43 .336 .407 .481 .887 1977 31 641 104 191 54 11 21 92 59 43 .298 .366 .515 .881 1978 32 623 90 170 39 5 16 72 51 62 .273 .329 .429 .758 1979 33 393 55 113 32 4 10 74 38 46 .288 .351 .466 .817
Lau’s other celebrated pupil in Kansas City was so immensely talented that he’d have likely been a star no matter who was his batting coach. But the particular contact-oriented, gap-to-gap approach Lau instilled in Brett produced a wonderfully fun hitter to watch. Those of us who were too young to have witnessed Stan Musial got to see the next-best thing here.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 20 40 2 5 2 0 0 0 0 5 .125 .125 .175 .300 1974 21 459 51 131 23 5 2 49 21 38 .286 .317 .374 .691 1975 22 638 88 199 38 14 13 93 45 49 .312 .357 .477 .834 1976 23 649 99 219 37 15 9 70 48 36 .337 .383 .479 .862 1977 24 564 105 176 32 13 22 88 55 24 .312 .373 .532 .905 1978 25 510 79 150 45 8 9 62 39 35 .294 .342 .467 .809 1979 26 645 119 212 42 20 23 107 51 36 .329 .376 .563 .939
The High Priests of High Average
We elaborated here on what a pure joy it was to watch Rose play ball.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 32 680 115 230 36 8 5 64 65 42 .338 .401 .437 .838 1974 33 655 115 188 48 7 4 54 104 54 .288 .385 .401 .786 1975 34 666 118 214 51 4 9 78 88 50 .321 .400 .449 .849 1976 35 669 136 219 45 6 12 66 85 54 .327 .403 .469 .872 1977 36 655 95 204 38 7 9 64 66 42 .311 .377 .432 .809 1978 37 655 103 198 51 3 7 52 62 30 .302 .362 .421 .783 1979 38 628 90 208 40 5 4 59 95 32 .331 .418 .430 .848
Rose and Carew had a lot in common. Both were young second basemen who blew through the minor leagues in three seasons, leapfrogging Triple-A altogether. Both then burst onto the major league scene with runaway Rookie of the Year performances. Both were adequate defensively at second, though not outstanding, but both were moved off the position after a few years more as an injury-prevention measure than as a function of fielding inadequacy: both were considered just too valuable at the plate to be left exposed to rolling blocks in the field.
Both Rose and Carew were essentially singles hitters, but both in mid-career developed the capacity to deliver the more-than-occasional home run, and both lost that power as they aged. Both were rather impatient hitters when young, but both gradually developed an outstanding capacity to draw walks.
Yet for all their similarities, as personalities Rose and Carew could hardly have been more different: Rose was ebullient and pugnacious, while Carew was laconic and imperturbable. And in the batter’s box they were near-opposites as well: while both hit from a pronounced crouch, Rose, beefily muscular, intensely squeezed his bat and was a tightly coiled spring, pure energy lusting for release, while Carew, angular and long-limbed, seemed relaxed at the plate to the point of drowsiness, resembling nothing so much as a housecat casually perched on a windowsill, languidly contemplating the afternoon scene.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 27 580 98 203 30 11 6 62 62 55 .350 .411 .471 .882 1974 28 603 90 222 32 5 4 58 73 49 .368 .436 .458 .894 1975 29 539 93 196 26 4 17 84 63 40 .363 .430 .522 .952 1976 30 609 102 204 31 13 11 94 66 52 .335 .400 .482 .882 1977 31 616 128 239 38 16 14 100 69 55 .388 .449 .570 1.019 1978 32 564 85 188 26 10 5 70 78 62 .333 .411 .441 .852 1979 33 409 78 130 15 3 3 44 73 46 .318 .419 .391 .810
A Great Slugger
Even though he was an MVP winner and a 14-time All-Star, to a great extent Jackson was perceived at the time, and has been remembered since, as a personality more than as a player. That’s a measure of just how forceful (one might even say obnoxious) Jackson’s personality was and is, because this guy was one tremendous player.
Jackson hit 563 homers despite never playing in a great home run park, and despite spending the vast bulk of his long career in one of modern history’s least home run-conducive eras. He hit 563 homers despite having only two 40-homer seasons, one coming when he was just 23 and the other when he was 34. With a home run-centric skill profile, Jackson was particularly hurt by having the Dead Ball ’70s period hit him right in the heart of his career, at ages 28 through 30. This exercise demonstrates that it cost Jackson a third 40-tater season, and this version of Mr. October winds up with a career total of 583.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 27 539 99 158 28 2 32 117 76 111 .293 .383 .531 .914 1974 28 509 94 149 27 1 35 98 85 106 .292 .393 .558 .952 1975 29 596 95 153 42 3 44 109 66 134 .256 .331 .559 .890 1976 30 501 88 141 29 2 33 95 53 109 .281 .350 .545 .895 1977 31 525 93 150 39 2 32 110 74 129 .286 .375 .550 .925 1978 32 511 82 140 13 5 27 97 58 133 .274 .356 .477 .833 1979 33 465 78 138 24 2 29 89 65 107 .297 .382 .544 .926
A Greater Slugger
One home run among the many I saw Schmidt hit remains particularly vivid in memory. It was at Candlestick Park, sometime in the early 1980s. Schmidt didn’t even appear to swing hard, he seemed to be trying to poke one up the middle, and with a piercing crack a high liner was far over the fence in half a heartbeat—to right-center field. Along with being impressed, one felt something approaching despair: this just wasn’t fair. This guy belonged in some higher classification than the mere major leagues.
Schmidt’s and Jackson’s batting styles were strikingly different. Jackson joyously screwed himself into the ground trying to hit every pitch 700 feet, while Schmidt somehow never seemed quite at ease at the plate, obviously thinking hard, focusing on keeping himself balanced and not over-swinging. Yet they generated similar results in that neither was much of a pull hitter, both regularly launching their towering cannonballs to dead center.
As the most prolific home run slugger of the mid-1970s, Schmidt lost the most value of any player to the 1974-76 Dead Ball. His actual career total of 548 homers is boosted to 572 here, as he goes from three 40-dinger seasons to six.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 23 367 43 72 11 0 18 52 62 136 .196 .324 .373 .697 1974 24 571 113 163 30 7 44 122 104 139 .285 .396 .595 .991 1975 25 565 98 143 37 3 46 100 99 181 .253 .364 .575 .940 1976 26 587 118 156 33 4 46 112 98 150 .266 .371 .574 .945 1977 27 544 114 149 27 11 38 101 104 122 .274 .393 .574 .967 1978 28 513 93 129 27 2 21 78 91 103 .251 .364 .435 .799 1979 29 541 109 137 25 4 45 114 120 115 .253 .386 .564 .950
The Greatest Player in Baseball
In the mid-1970s, Morgan was just about as spectacular a baseball player as it’s possible to imagine anyone ever being: here was a perennial Gold Glove-winning middle infielder, stealing 60 bases a year at a success rate of well over 80%, drawing far over 100 walks a year while rarely striking out, and, for good measure, hitting well over .300 with terrific power. Some exceptional players don’t have a weakness; this was a guy who didn’t have anything but elite-caliber strengths.
He was just a little fellow, of course, 5-foot-7 on his tippy toes and 165 pounds with his pockets full of rocks. Yet Morgan didn’t tend to handle the bat in a typical little guy’s fashion. His natural stroke was a huge, full, sweeping, dead-pull uppercut; Morgan swinging was the spitting image of a Roger Maris or a Ted Williams, only pint-sized. For much of his time with the Astros, the organization attempted to get Morgan to modify his cut, to slap the ball the other way—the way little guys are supposed to. The problem was that Morgan wasn’t especially good at that; despite his incredible pitch recognition talent, such an approach from Morgan was prone to produce little more than harmless hoppers to shortstop. So Little Joe kept reverting to his natural, big swing, which would irritate Houston management into insisting that he’d never fulfill his potential doing that, and the frustrating cycle would start all over again.
In Cincinnati, manager Sparky Anderson was wise enough to just write Morgan’s name on the lineup card and leave it at that. Letting it rip, Morgan generated a relentless stream of wicked liners and towering flies, almost never hitting the ball to left field: a pattern of production typically seen in lefty sluggers at least half a foot taller and 50 pounds heavier. Morgan’s peak was so Himalayan that within a few years, as age finally caught up with him and he was dogged by chronic minor injuries, he lost his capacity to hit for average, and lost most of his speed as well—and yet remained an exceptionally good all-around second baseman until he was 40.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1973 29 576 116 167 35 2 26 82 111 61 .290 .406 .493 .899 1974 30 515 112 153 33 3 27 70 118 70 .297 .428 .531 .959 1975 31 501 112 166 29 6 21 99 130 52 .331 .469 .539 1.008 1976 32 475 119 154 32 5 33 116 112 41 .324 .453 .623 1.076 1977 33 521 113 150 21 6 22 78 117 58 .288 .417 .478 .895 1978 34 441 68 104 27 0 13 75 79 40 .236 .347 .385 .732 1979 35 436 70 109 26 1 9 32 93 45 .250 .379 .376 .755
References & Resources
Methodology
We take the seasons immediately surrounding 1974-76 (we use 1973 and 1977, ’78, and ’79; we don’t use 1971-72 because the lack of the Designated Hitter in the American League in those seasons makes the comparison overly problematic), and compute the aggregate rates of offensive production: runs, hits, doubles, triples, homers, walks, and strikeouts. Then the stats of each batter for the seasons of 1974, 1975, and 1976 (presented in blue) are adjusted such that the aggregate averages of those seasons is equal to the aggregate total of 1973-77-78-79.
The multipliers are:
Runs: 1.0493
Hits: 1.0187
Doubles: 1.0774
Triples: 1.0572
Home Runs: 1.2221
Walks: 0.9834
Strikeouts: 1.0078
An impact of a greater rate of hits is an increase in at-bats, of course. I use a simple method to increase at-bats: every batter’s at-bats are increased by his number of increased hits. Outs are constant, of course, and I assume as well a constant rate of double plays and baserunning outs—probably not exactly proper assumptions, but close enough for our purposes.