Filling the Mickey Vernon gaps (Part 3)
It’s time to have another look at the careers of good players who endured bad years. Let’s see how things might have looked if each had just put in an ordinary progression between his high spots.
All adjusted stat lines are presented in blue font. For our methodology, please see the References and Resources section below.
Follow the bouncing Yaz
Yaz was properly celebrated for his remarkably well-rounded talent, and he was a durable player whose exceptional dedication to conditioning was a key to the amazing longevity of his career. These attributes might be expected to align with a career of great consistency as well, but for whatever reason, Yastrzemski’s was not that career.
Yaz’s hitting was highly unpredictable, especially in power production, but in batting average as well. Not too many guys go from 16 homers to 44 at one point and from 40 to 15 at another, and also bouncing from .301 to .255 to .329 to .254 for good measure.
Here we see a Yaz landscape with the peaks but without the valleys, and it’s pretty much a dictionary illustration of “superb.”
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1961 21 148 583 71 155 31 6 11 80 50 96 .266 .324 .396 .720 90 1962 22 160 646 99 191 43 6 19 94 66 82 .296 .363 .469 .832 120 1963 23 151 570 91 183 40 3 14 68 95 72 .321 .418 .475 .893 148 1964 24 145 544 82 167 38 5 16 69 80 73 .307 .396 .486 .882 140 1965 25 133 494 78 154 45 3 20 72 70 58 .312 .395 .536 .931 156 1966 26 151 556 90 169 38 3 27 91 82 62 .305 .394 .528 .922 153 1967 27 161 579 112 189 31 4 44 121 91 69 .326 .418 .622 1.040 195 1968 28 157 539 90 162 32 2 23 74 119 90 .301 .426 .495 .921 171 1969 29 160 569 104 167 30 1 34 96 116 82 .294 .413 .532 .945 158 1970 30 161 566 125 186 29 0 40 102 128 66 .329 .452 .592 1.044 178 1971 31 154 538 94 158 25 2 25 89 113 61 .294 .417 .486 .903 149 1972 32 145 512 96 154 24 1 22 83 100 53 .300 .414 .483 .897 161 1973 33 152 540 82 160 25 4 19 95 105 58 .296 .407 .463 .870 140 1974 34 148 515 93 155 25 2 15 79 104 48 .301 .414 .445 .859 141 1975 35 149 539 94 155 27 2 19 80 88 52 .288 .388 .452 .841 129 1976 36 152 548 84 157 25 3 23 100 86 55 .286 .383 .467 .850 138 1977 37 150 558 99 165 27 3 28 102 73 40 .296 .372 .505 .877 126 1978 38 144 523 70 145 21 2 17 81 76 44 .277 .367 .423 .790 113 1979 39 147 518 69 140 28 1 21 87 62 46 .270 .346 .450 .796 109 1980 40 105 364 49 100 21 1 15 50 44 38 .275 .350 .462 .812 117 1981 41 91 338 36 83 14 1 7 53 49 28 .246 .338 .355 .693 96 1982 42 131 459 53 126 22 1 16 72 59 50 .275 .358 .431 .789 111 1983 43 119 380 38 101 24 0 10 56 54 29 .266 .359 .408 .767 106 Career 3314 11977 1899 3523 665 57 485 1894 1909 1353 .294 .391 .481 .872 138
And follow the bouncing Boomer
As we observed here, Scott’s junior-year miseries were something vastly worse than an ordinary offseason. He suffered a sudden and total inability to hit; his was the closest thing any hitter has ever exhibited to Steve Blass Disease.
Boomer recovered from that near-death experience, but throughout his subsequent career he would be prone to inconsistency, particularly with regard to power output. Our version’s 1968 struggles are well within the realm of those commonly observed, and he then turns in a near-decade of consistent strong performance.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1966 22 162 601 73 147 18 7 27 90 65 152 .245 .324 .433 .757 108 1967 23 159 565 74 171 21 7 19 82 63 119 .303 .373 .465 .838 139 1968 24 149 518 57 118 17 5 19 69 52 131 .228 .299 .389 .688 102 1969 25 157 560 70 160 19 6 18 72 62 104 .287 .358 .439 .797 118 1970 26 148 563 82 171 28 4 21 92 55 94 .303 .366 .482 .848 126 1971 27 154 591 81 164 23 4 32 99 48 99 .278 .332 .493 .826 125 1972 28 148 553 88 148 24 4 27 88 50 112 .268 .328 .476 .804 140 1973 29 158 604 98 185 30 4 24 107 61 94 .306 .370 .488 .858 143 1974 30 158 608 86 177 31 3 26 99 57 94 .291 .352 .479 .831 139 1975 31 158 617 86 176 26 4 36 109 51 97 .285 .341 .515 .856 139 1976 32 157 602 87 166 24 5 29 94 54 109 .276 .335 .476 .812 139 1977 33 157 584 103 157 26 5 33 95 57 112 .269 .337 .500 .837 115 1978 34 120 412 51 96 16 4 12 54 44 86 .233 .305 .379 .684 84 1979 35 105 346 46 88 20 4 6 49 31 61 .254 .317 .387 .704 87 Career 2090 7724 1083 2126 322 67 329 1199 750 1464 .275 .339 .462 .801 123
Danger! Sheer cliff ahead
The following three careers share a peculiar shape: a normal climb to a terrific peak, followed by a mid-career plunge. They stand as vivid demonstrations of the difficulty of assessing the final quality of a player’s career before he’s at least in his mid-thirties.
Mr. Cub is generally credited as the first hitter to perfect the light-bat “buggy-whip” mode of swing that’s since become the power-hitting norm, and he demonstrated unprecedented home run productivity for a middle infielder. But Banks suffered from knee trouble beginning in 1961, and a bad virus he encountered in 1963 further ensured that he’d never regain his exceptional bat speed.
As a result Banks’s career featured two starkly distinct halves: the first as an inner-circle all-time great shortstop, and the second as a pretty-good-but-nothing-special first baseman. Here we see a Banks with a more normal B side, and he accumulates 568 homers, a total that would have him comfortably in fourth place on the all-time list at the time of his retirement.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1953 22 10 35 3 11 1 1 2 6 4 5 .314 .385 .571 .956 143 1954 23 154 593 70 163 19 7 19 79 40 50 .275 .326 .427 .753 94 1955 24 154 596 98 176 29 9 44 117 45 72 .295 .345 .596 .941 144 1956 25 139 538 82 160 25 8 28 85 52 62 .297 .358 .530 .888 137 1957 26 156 594 113 169 34 6 43 102 70 85 .285 .360 .579 .939 150 1958 27 154 617 119 193 23 11 47 129 52 87 .313 .366 .614 .980 156 1959 28 155 589 97 179 25 6 45 143 64 72 .304 .374 .596 .970 155 1960 29 156 597 94 162 32 7 41 117 71 69 .271 .350 .554 .904 145 1961 30 147 550 86 161 24 5 37 112 59 74 .292 .360 .555 .915 138 1962 31 154 614 103 179 22 9 42 117 41 79 .291 .335 .559 .894 132 1963 32 134 472 58 120 21 3 24 72 47 74 .255 .321 .459 .781 118 1964 33 157 594 81 159 31 7 32 106 54 77 .268 .328 .503 .831 127 1965 34 160 603 96 166 30 5 36 104 63 75 .274 .343 .515 .858 136 1966 35 140 525 67 150 24 8 22 80 41 61 .285 .336 .482 .819 124 1967 36 154 585 81 160 29 6 32 106 49 81 .274 .330 .506 .836 132 1968 37 152 581 79 150 24 3 35 94 29 69 .258 .293 .487 .780 125 1969 38 159 589 70 153 22 3 26 106 49 83 .259 .316 .435 .751 98 1970 39 72 222 25 56 6 2 12 44 20 33 .252 .313 .459 .772 95 1971 40 39 83 4 16 2 0 3 6 6 14 .193 .247 .325 .572 52 Career 2544 9575 1425 2681 421 103 568 1724 853 1220 .280 .339 .523 .862 131
Murphy’s early-30s problems also can be traced to knee trouble. Both he and Banks illustrate how it can be that sore knees don’t necessarily sideline a player, but can still have a deadening impact on a hitter’s ability to plant and torque.
In Murphy’s case, the change was sudden and shocking. None of us in the mid-1980s would have taken a bet that the immensely and broadly talented Murph, a famously hard-working and impeccably conditioned athlete, wasn’t a guaranteed lock to make the Hall of Fame. Our version’s too-soon decline is noticeable but not nearly so severe: with his 453 home runs and 128 OPS+ in 2,327 games, is this Dale Murphy Cooperstown-worthy?
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1976 20 19 65 3 17 6 0 0 9 7 9 .262 .333 .354 .687 91 1977 21 18 76 5 24 8 1 2 14 0 8 .316 .316 .526 .842 112 1978 22 151 530 66 120 14 3 23 79 42 145 .226 .284 .394 .678 80 1979 23 104 384 53 106 7 2 21 57 38 67 .276 .340 .469 .809 113 1980 24 156 569 98 160 27 2 33 89 59 133 .281 .349 .510 .859 135 1981 25 104 369 43 91 12 1 13 50 44 72 .247 .325 .390 .715 100 1982 26 162 598 113 168 23 2 36 109 93 134 .281 .378 .507 .885 142 1983 27 162 589 131 178 24 4 36 121 90 110 .302 .393 .540 .933 150 1984 28 162 607 94 176 32 8 36 100 79 134 .290 .372 .547 .919 149 1985 29 162 616 118 185 32 2 37 111 90 141 .300 .388 .539 .927 151 1986 30 161 611 92 170 31 8 33 92 77 138 .278 .359 .512 .870 132 1987 31 159 566 115 167 27 1 44 105 115 136 .295 .417 .580 .997 156 1988 32 159 604 98 160 34 3 31 94 82 133 .264 .352 .481 .833 133 1989 33 158 586 87 150 20 1 28 97 79 138 .255 .344 .435 .779 119 1990 34 157 565 88 153 25 1 34 94 88 133 .270 .369 .499 .867 134 1991 35 158 567 99 158 29 3 27 101 69 102 .278 .356 .480 .837 135 1992 36 86 303 36 74 17 1 10 44 25 53 .243 .299 .401 .700 97 1993 37 90 308 31 69 9 0 10 46 35 79 .222 .302 .347 .649 61 Career 2327 8512 1367 2323 375 42 453 1411 1112 1864 .273 .357 .486 .843 128
Strawberry no doubt encountered typical over-30 aches and pains, but the cliff he stepped off was, of course, almost entirely a function of his phenomenal inability to stay sober. At his best, Strawberry wasn’t truly a great player, but he was awfully good; as we saw here, under more offense-friendly conditions, he was likely capable of a 50-homer season.
The career he free-based away wouldn’t necessarily have been of Hall of Fame caliber, but it was certainly something quite special. A Strawberry at-bat, featuring that huge, long, uppercutting arc of a swing, resembled few others—Willie McCovey’s is one of the few that comes to mind—for sheer all-or-nothing expectancy.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1983 21 122 420 63 108 15 7 26 74 47 128 .257 .336 .512 .848 134 1984 22 147 522 75 131 27 4 26 97 75 131 .251 .343 .467 .810 127 1985 23 111 393 78 109 15 4 29 79 73 96 .277 .389 .557 .946 165 1986 24 136 475 76 123 27 5 27 93 72 141 .259 .358 .507 .865 139 1987 25 154 532 108 151 32 5 39 104 97 122 .284 .398 .583 .981 162 1988 26 153 543 101 146 27 3 39 101 85 127 .269 .366 .545 .911 165 1989 27 146 520 87 134 24 2 35 95 72 114 .258 .348 .512 .860 149 1990 28 152 542 92 150 18 1 37 108 70 110 .277 .361 .518 .879 140 1991 29 139 505 86 134 22 4 28 99 75 125 .265 .361 .491 .852 140 1992 30 152 536 81 135 30 4 27 99 77 147 .253 .346 .472 .818 132 1993 31 146 534 86 134 16 1 35 98 72 107 .251 .340 .479 .820 121 1994 32 106 364 64 95 17 3 24 68 62 86 .261 .368 .514 .883 132 1995 33 124 459 91 130 26 5 30 86 78 107 .282 .386 .557 .944 145 1996 34 141 477 90 129 24 3 31 91 82 122 .271 .378 .529 .907 125 1997 35 82 267 38 61 13 1 18 45 37 68 .229 .322 .483 .804 108 1998 36 101 295 44 73 11 2 24 57 46 90 .247 .354 .542 .896 131 1999 37 24 49 10 16 5 0 3 6 17 16 .327 .500 .612 1.112 194 Career 2136 7433 1268 1960 348 52 477 1401 1136 1837 .264 .361 .517 .878 142
The flickering of lesser stars
A player doesn’t have to be a major star to have exhibited a frustrating peak-and-valley pattern. Neither of these two guys had elite ability, but both might have had better careers than they did.
Terry’s old man is best known for his spectacular fluke season of 1959, but he was a fine player, a line-drive hitter with decent power. But the inability to match the fluke year wasn’t the truly frustrating part of Francona’s career, because that particular line would stick out like a sore thumb in just about anybody’s career except maybe Stan Musial’s.
Following the crazy 1959, Tito settled in for the next couple of years at what seemed to be his “true” production level, and it was just fine, not star-level, but very good. But then at age 29, Francona suddenly lost the capacity to maintain a decent batting average. Thus, he quickly lost his regular status, and found himself bouncing around as a barely adequate bench player for several years.
Then, on the verge of oblivion, at age 34 Francona just as suddenly regained the base-hit stroke, and went out with a blaze of outstanding role-player glory.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1956 22 139 445 62 115 16 4 9 57 51 60 .258 .334 .373 .707 94 1957 23 118 362 49 90 12 4 8 48 40 54 .249 .323 .367 .691 94 1958 24 116 347 50 103 14 3 10 52 38 47 .298 .368 .439 .807 121 1959 25 122 399 68 145 17 2 20 79 35 42 .363 .414 .566 .980 172 1960 26 147 544 84 159 36 2 17 79 67 67 .292 .372 .460 .832 127 1961 27 155 592 87 178 30 8 16 85 56 52 .301 .363 .459 .822 122 1962 28 158 621 82 169 28 5 14 70 47 74 .272 .327 .401 .728 98 1963 29 145 522 71 137 33 1 14 60 57 72 .261 .334 .405 .739 108 1964 30 133 431 61 123 22 5 12 55 50 49 .284 .359 .441 .799 123 1965 31 120 398 49 107 17 4 10 45 32 52 .269 .324 .401 .725 96 1966 32 103 251 23 66 9 1 3 32 29 36 .263 .339 .341 .680 90 1967 33 116 337 34 89 10 1 4 38 39 45 .263 .340 .333 .672 94 1968 34 122 346 32 99 13 1 2 47 51 45 .286 .376 .347 .723 119 1969 35 83 173 17 55 7 1 5 42 25 21 .318 .394 .457 .851 140 1970 36 84 98 6 23 3 0 1 10 12 21 .235 .324 .296 .620 73 Career 1859 5865 773 1657 265 41 144 797 629 737 .282 .352 .415 .767 113
At the time, Johnson was usually just described as “surly,” but his multitude of behavioral issues eventually was diagnosed as mental illness. Whatever the truth of either label, Johnson’s inability to get along with others, and especially the degree to which it reached a crisis point in 1971, overwhelmingly colors any assessment of him, rendering it difficult to know just how good a player he really was.
One school of thought holds that Johnson was a brilliant player, a potential superstar, who delivered only a fraction of what he was capable of producing. While it’s impossible to know, I’ve always been highly skeptical of that. My guess is that the Johnson we saw in 1968, ’69, and ’70 was the real deal, Johnson at his best. And that player, while a good one, was hardly great.
Johnson was a terrific hitter for average, no question about that. But though he was a big guy, his line drives didn’t yield many home runs, nor even a whole lot of doubles. His strike zone judgment was poor. His speed was good but nothing special, and his defensive aptitude was somewhere between unimpressive and atrocious. Basically, a corner outfielder like that has to hit .300 to earn a roster spot, let alone a regular job.
To whatever degree it was caused by his behavioral issues, Johnson’s hitting was remarkably inconsistent. Here we see a Johnson without the periodic low-lows, and it’s a vastly better career than the actual one. Still, it seems to me that even if Johnson had hit as consistently well as this, his proper role was that in which Phillies manager Gene Mauch slotted him in 1964-65: a platoon player.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1964 21 43 109 18 33 7 1 4 18 6 26 .303 .345 .495 .840 135 1965 22 118 393 57 121 14 4 13 58 20 65 .308 .342 .456 .798 125 1966 23 145 574 72 170 27 6 3 53 26 74 .296 .326 .380 .707 95 1967 24 148 493 66 151 22 5 9 61 28 59 .305 .342 .427 .769 121 1968 25 149 603 79 188 32 6 2 58 26 71 .312 .342 .395 .737 116 1969 26 139 523 86 165 18 4 17 88 25 69 .315 .350 .463 .813 122 1970 27 156 614 85 202 26 6 14 86 35 68 .329 .370 .459 .829 131 1971 28 147 571 69 177 23 4 11 71 33 68 .310 .348 .419 .767 124 1972 29 145 517 69 147 16 3 15 74 28 64 .284 .321 .413 .734 115 1973 30 158 624 62 179 26 3 8 68 32 82 .287 .322 .377 .699 100 1974 31 124 481 60 138 15 3 5 43 28 62 .287 .331 .362 .693 102 1975 32 100 343 39 95 12 2 4 34 18 44 .276 .312 .357 .669 92 1976 33 125 429 41 115 15 2 6 45 19 49 .268 .298 .354 .652 88 Career 1698 6274 802 1880 252 48 111 758 323 801 .300 .334 .408 .742 112
Vintage table-setters
Here are a couple of old-time National League stars who shared many common attributes, in addition to that of “really cool name.”
Cuyler’s election to the Hall of Fame was preposterous, but nonetheless he was an excellent player: a right fielder-center fielder with a wicked line-drive bat, some power and blazing speed.
However, he was injury-prone, missing large chunks of several seasons. The version we see here manages to stay in the lineup a whole lot better, and puts together a very slick career. But I still don’t see it as meriting the Hall of Fame.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1921 22 1 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 .000 .000 .000 .000 -100 1922 23 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1923 24 11 40 4 10 1 1 0 2 5 3 .250 .348 .325 .673 77 1924 25 117 466 94 165 27 16 9 85 30 62 .354 .402 .539 .941 148 1925 26 153 617 144 220 43 26 18 102 58 56 .357 .423 .598 1.021 151 1926 27 157 614 113 197 31 15 8 92 50 66 .321 .380 .459 .839 120 1927 28 121 450 87 143 22 11 6 62 44 51 .317 .377 .452 .829 115 1928 29 136 504 102 163 27 8 16 91 59 59 .322 .393 .503 .896 133 1929 30 139 509 111 183 29 7 15 102 66 56 .360 .438 .532 .970 139 1930 31 156 642 155 228 50 17 13 134 72 49 .355 .428 .547 .975 132 1931 32 154 613 110 202 37 12 9 88 72 54 .330 .404 .473 .877 133 1932 33 132 530 84 166 28 11 10 83 51 49 .314 .373 .460 .833 123 1933 34 106 411 59 136 28 6 6 52 26 46 .331 .371 .465 .836 138 1934 35 142 559 80 189 42 8 6 69 31 62 .338 .377 .474 .851 128 1935 36 126 474 77 142 21 8 7 57 42 51 .299 .356 .416 .772 108 1936 37 144 567 96 185 29 11 7 74 47 67 .326 .380 .453 .833 129 1937 38 117 406 48 110 12 4 0 32 36 50 .271 .333 .320 .653 82 1938 39 82 253 45 69 10 8 2 23 34 23 .273 .363 .399 .762 108 Career 1995 7656 1408 2507 437 168 130 1147 722 803 .327 .385 .479 .864 126
Galan didn’t throw as well as Cuyler, and thus was relegated mostly to left field, and his offensive recipe was heavier on the walks and lighter on the singles, but his overall production, when at his best, was much the same as Cuyler’s.
Galan’s problem was that he was even more injury-prone and inconsistent than Cuyler. Indeed, Galan’s status swifly tumbled from star leadoff man in his early 20s to struggling scrub in his late 20s, before he got a second chance at regular play during the war and re-emerged as a star. (Giving up switch-hitting, and batting strictly from the left side from 1943 onward, may also have helped Galan.)
A more recent player who bears great similarity to Galan is Roy White: a speedy left fielder without a strong throwing arm, and with a well-rounded, on-base-rich offensive game.
Here’s Galan:
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1934 22 66 192 31 50 6 2 5 22 16 15 .260 .317 .391 .708 90 1935 23 154 646 133 203 41 11 12 79 87 53 .314 .399 .467 .866 131 1936 24 150 611 104 178 34 8 10 80 77 52 .291 .370 .419 .790 110 1937 25 151 629 119 179 33 11 15 79 83 51 .284 .368 .441 .808 115 1938 26 129 472 78 140 26 9 6 70 62 22 .297 .378 .426 .804 118 1939 27 148 549 104 167 36 8 6 71 75 26 .304 .392 .432 .824 119 1940 28 151 557 98 159 34 6 8 71 96 39 .285 .390 .409 .799 122 1941 29 149 552 98 166 38 8 8 80 89 27 .300 .398 .442 .839 139 1942 30 152 592 104 180 42 7 9 92 106 28 .305 .411 .447 .858 149 1943 31 139 495 83 142 26 3 9 67 103 39 .287 .412 .406 .818 137 1944 32 151 547 96 174 43 9 12 93 101 23 .318 .426 .495 .921 161 1945 33 152 576 114 177 36 7 9 92 114 27 .307 .423 .441 .864 141 1946 34 128 411 74 128 28 6 5 59 101 28 .311 .447 .445 .892 153 1947 35 124 392 60 123 18 2 6 61 94 19 .314 .449 .416 .865 132 1948 36 54 77 18 22 3 2 2 16 26 4 .286 .471 .455 .926 155 1949 37 34 43 4 9 3 0 0 2 14 5 .209 .404 .279 .683 85 Career 2031 7341 1317 2196 446 97 123 1034 1244 455 .299 .401 .436 .837 129
Let’s see them underrate this
Among the many unusual aspects of Evans’s long career was its concave shape: He peaked early and late, and had his worst season by far at age 29. Park factors exaggerated the effect in his raw numbers—going from The Launching Pad to Candlestick Park to Tiger Stadium will do that—but it wasn’t just a park illusion. Evans had seven OPS+ seasons superior to those he posted during the six-year span from ages 28 through 33.
Here we see a mid-career Evans who more closely maintains his early-career and late-career form, and he cracks the 500-homer barrier. When combined with the mediocre .254 career batting average (his league average was .263), it’s intriguing to wonder just what Hall of Fame voters might have made of him.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1969 22 12 26 3 6 0 0 0 1 1 8 .231 .250 .231 .481 36 1970 23 12 44 4 14 1 1 0 9 7 5 .318 .423 .386 .809 114 1971 24 89 260 42 63 11 1 12 38 39 54 .242 .338 .431 .769 112 1972 25 125 418 67 106 12 0 19 71 90 58 .254 .384 .419 .803 121 1973 26 161 595 114 167 25 8 41 104 124 104 .281 .403 .556 .959 156 1974 27 161 583 107 152 23 6 33 92 125 96 .261 .391 .489 .880 142 1975 28 159 581 98 153 24 5 32 89 115 105 .262 .384 .483 .867 136 1976 29 143 448 72 105 15 1 23 73 86 78 .234 .357 .419 .776 117 1977 30 143 492 79 131 24 3 24 77 77 66 .266 .365 .470 .835 123 1978 31 160 571 98 150 25 5 31 91 115 84 .263 .386 .483 .869 147 1979 32 151 543 81 144 26 3 24 76 88 81 .265 .367 .452 .818 130 1980 33 153 531 75 136 20 0 30 86 84 75 .256 .358 .464 .822 131 1981 34 99 354 57 95 16 3 16 51 55 44 .267 .366 .466 .833 138 1982 35 146 485 73 122 19 2 28 78 81 75 .252 .359 .471 .830 131 1983 36 142 523 94 145 29 3 30 82 84 81 .277 .378 .516 .894 150 1984 37 141 453 71 109 14 1 28 79 81 78 .241 .356 .459 .815 125 1985 38 151 505 81 125 17 0 40 94 85 85 .248 .356 .519 .875 138 1986 39 151 507 78 122 15 0 29 85 91 105 .241 .356 .442 .798 116 1987 40 150 499 90 128 20 0 34 99 100 84 .257 .379 .501 .880 135 1988 41 144 437 48 91 9 0 22 64 84 89 .208 .337 .380 .717 105 1989 42 107 276 31 57 6 1 11 39 41 46 .207 .303 .355 .658 86 Career 2698 9129 1461 2319 349 41 505 1476 1651 1498 .254 .368 .467 .835 130
What if he’d been a little less fragile?
His was a package of lightning speed, prodigious power and agonizing fragility that’s never really been matched. Think about it: How many other players in history, when compared with Mickey Mantle, have Mantle’s superior durability standing out as the primary difference? And as if never-ending injuries weren’t enough, Davis had to deal with colon cancer.
Here Davis manages to stay in the lineup through his 20s, and the injury troubles he then encounters are significant but not catastrophic. It adds up to a 132 career OPS+ in nearly 2,200 games. When combined with his phenomenal speed and terrific center field defense, it would be a resume earning very serious Hall of Fame consideration.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1984 22 57 174 33 39 10 1 10 30 24 48 .224 .320 .466 .786 115 1985 23 125 370 83 97 11 6 24 59 41 104 .262 .336 .520 .855 132 1986 24 152 560 121 155 20 4 36 96 92 135 .277 .379 .523 .902 143 1987 25 155 569 134 167 28 5 44 120 101 161 .293 .400 .593 .992 155 1988 26 155 566 97 155 22 4 31 112 78 149 .273 .361 .489 .851 139 1989 27 151 554 89 156 17 2 41 121 82 139 .281 .374 .541 .915 156 1990 28 146 544 101 142 31 2 29 103 72 120 .260 .347 .486 .833 123 1991 29 145 494 95 130 21 2 28 80 85 150 .263 .372 .485 .857 136 1992 30 136 476 59 119 16 2 18 75 65 126 .251 .341 .405 .746 113 1993 31 131 458 73 121 16 2 28 88 63 112 .264 .353 .491 .844 127 1994 32 82 287 52 70 15 1 14 50 39 73 .244 .335 .445 .780 100 1995 33 130 433 76 113 19 1 23 76 63 114 .261 .354 .467 .821 116 1996 34 129 415 81 119 20 0 26 83 70 121 .287 .394 .523 .917 141 1997 35 101 342 64 105 20 0 21 66 43 92 .307 .384 .549 .933 144 1998 36 131 452 81 148 29 1 28 89 44 108 .327 .388 .582 .970 150 1999 37 95 322 54 99 19 2 17 60 37 79 .306 .378 .529 .907 127 2000 38 92 254 38 77 14 0 6 40 36 60 .303 .389 .429 .818 107 2001 39 74 156 17 32 7 3 4 22 13 38 .205 .269 .365 .634 69 Career 2185 7424 1347 2043 334 37 428 1368 1046 1927 .275 .365 .503 .868 132
What if he’d been a little less fragile, and a little less fractious?
Well, then he’d have been a relentless run production machine, that’s what, cranking out MVP-caliber season after MVP-caliber season. Pretty much the 1960s-’70s version of Jimmie Foxx.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1963 21 10 24 6 7 2 1 0 2 0 5 .292 .280 .458 .738 110 1964 22 162 632 125 201 38 13 29 91 67 138 .318 .382 .557 .939 162 1965 23 161 619 93 187 31 14 20 85 74 150 .302 .375 .494 .869 145 1966 24 141 524 112 166 25 10 40 110 68 136 .317 .396 .632 1.028 181 1967 25 142 548 107 172 35 12 26 84 71 128 .313 .392 .561 .953 169 1968 26 147 523 100 152 21 10 37 100 71 149 .290 .375 .576 .951 183 1969 27 157 565 108 172 29 7 42 120 89 156 .305 .400 .604 1.004 182 1970 28 150 536 99 158 25 6 39 119 94 136 .294 .400 .582 .982 159 1971 29 157 552 84 168 34 4 29 91 84 113 .305 .397 .537 .933 170 1972 30 148 506 90 156 28 5 37 113 99 126 .308 .420 .603 1.023 200 1973 31 146 503 84 157 34 6 35 98 83 114 .312 .409 .607 1.016 181 1974 32 128 462 84 139 23 1 32 88 57 89 .301 .375 .563 .938 165 1975 33 124 439 69 118 22 2 22 75 58 99 .269 .353 .478 .832 126 1976 34 85 298 52 80 16 1 15 49 37 63 .268 .346 .480 .826 131 1977 35 54 171 19 41 4 0 5 31 24 36 .240 .330 .351 .681 87 Career 1911 6901 1232 2074 366 90 407 1255 975 1637 .300 .387 .557 .944 165
References & Resources
Methodology
Everyone’s actual career includes a certain degree of year-to-year variation, and I want even these smoothed-out versions to reflect some of that. So instead of strict formality, I allow myself a bit of artistic license. However, I do stick to some basic rules:
– I can’t just make stuff up; all adjusted stats have to start with the particular player’s actual stat lines.
– The stats from the season being adjusted are included (even if in a minor weighting) in the adjusted line, to give the adjusted line some of the flavor of that actual season’s performance.
– No player’s career can start earlier than it did, or end later than it did.
– No adjusted season can surpass the player’s actual peak season(s); the adjusted seasons act as a bridge to and from peaks, not a new peak.
I endeavor to create a new version of each player’s career that is idealized, but in a plausible manner. The intended effect is to enhance the actual career while not overwhelming it, to create an easily recognizable version of the actual career that is, to a reasonable degree, the best it might have been.
Feel free to email me with any questions about the precise formulae used for any particular player.