Filling the Mickey Vernon gaps (Volume 4)
It’s been way too long since we’ve paid a visit to our Mickey Vernonesque friends; a little over a year, in fact.
As you’ll recall, what we’re up to here is examining the careers of hitters who exhibited unusual difficulty in maintaining consistent performance between their high points. What we do is plausibly fill in those gaps, presenting a fictional version of the career that might have been—the best possible career for each of these guys.
All adjusted stat lines are presented in blue font, and the lines in black are actual performance. For our methodology, please see the References and Resources section below.
Iron Man
You’d think a guy demonstrating otherworldly durability might also display some consistency with the bat, but Cal sure didn’t. He was a wildly streaky hitter, and as a result (or perhaps as a cause?) he was constantly jiggering with his batting stance, like a pre-teen girl experimenting with her handwriting (is this me? or maybe this?).
As to whether The Streak was the culprit in preventing Ripken from maintaining a hitting groove, of course it’s impossible to know, but I’m inclined to think it was part of the problem. Tremendously tough and strong though Ripken was, he wasn’t immune to fatigue, and at the very least an occasional day off couldn’t have hurt him.
The Streak was unquestionably a stupendous feat, but that doesn’t mean it had a net positive impact on the performance of Ripken’s team. Once the point was reached that The Streak was controlling the Orioles, rather than the other way around—and we don’t know exactly when that happened, but as the years advanced it became very clear that it had happened—then the right thing to do, record or no record, was for the Orioles to shake Ripken’s hand, pat him on the back, and sit his butt down for a day or two. They didn’t, of course.
Here we see a Ripken who hit with something approaching the consistency with which he played.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1981 20 23 39 1 5 0 0 0 0 1 8 .128 .150 .128 .278 -19 1982 21 160 598 90 158 32 5 28 93 46 95 .264 .317 .475 .792 115 1983 22 162 663 121 211 47 2 27 102 58 97 .318 .371 .517 .888 144 1984 23 162 641 103 195 37 7 27 86 71 89 .304 .374 .510 .884 145 1985 24 161 642 116 181 32 5 26 110 67 68 .282 .347 .469 .816 124 1986 25 162 627 98 177 35 1 25 81 70 60 .282 .355 .461 .816 123 1987 26 162 651 114 195 41 2 27 101 65 91 .299 .363 .494 .857 128 1988 27 162 611 96 176 32 4 25 84 85 80 .287 .374 .477 .851 141 1989 28 162 649 93 197 41 4 30 108 54 54 .303 .357 .517 .874 149 1990 29 162 635 102 184 38 3 24 94 69 83 .289 .359 .474 .833 135 1991 30 162 650 99 210 46 5 34 114 53 46 .323 .374 .566 .940 162 1992 31 162 644 86 185 38 3 24 93 59 48 .287 .347 .467 .814 125 1993 32 162 641 95 180 32 5 26 88 68 74 .281 .350 .465 .815 114 1994 33 112 444 71 140 19 3 13 75 32 41 .315 .364 .459 .823 107 1995 34 144 560 80 160 29 3 17 92 47 56 .286 .341 .439 .780 100 1996 35 163 640 94 178 40 1 26 102 59 78 .278 .341 .466 .807 102 1997 36 163 628 87 172 35 1 22 93 58 76 .274 .335 .434 .769 102 1998 37 161 601 65 163 27 1 14 61 51 68 .271 .331 .389 .720 89 1999 38 86 332 51 113 27 0 18 57 13 31 .340 .368 .584 .952 143 2000 39 83 309 43 79 16 0 15 56 23 37 .256 .310 .453 .763 95 2001 40 128 477 43 114 16 0 14 68 26 63 .239 .276 .361 .637 70 Career 3003 11681 1747 3372 660 54 462 1757 1074 1342 .289 .349 .473 .822 121
Hot-and-cold at the Hot Corner
These three were quite similar in talent profile, and were prominent exemplars of the mode of third baseman that fully took hold in the 1940s and 1950s. They were big, strong, not fast, but sure-handed and strong-armed, specializing not in racing in to scoop up bunts, but instead at stopping hard smashes behind the bag, and making the long, hard, accurate throw to first.
These three were defensive stars, and at his best each was a productive hitter as well, in the distinctly modern home-run-centric style. However, staying in that offensive groove was a struggle for all three.
Bill James developed his famous “Keltner Test” in response to a campaign touting Keltner for the Hall of Fame. James’s test, a means of structurally assessing a player’s Cooperstown case, wasn’t intended to denigrate Keltner, but simply to demonstrate the ways in which we may cleanly distinguish between a very good career (such as Keltner’s) and one deserving serious Hall of Fame consideration.
Keltner falls short of Hall standards not only because even at his best he wasn’t quite a great player, but especially because he was an unusually inconsistent hitter, at his best only intermittently. Our version shores up that weakness, and presents an extremely impressive career—but it’s still one headed only for the Hall of Very Good.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1937 20 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 .000 .000 .000 .000 -100 1938 21 149 576 86 159 31 9 26 113 33 75 .276 .319 .497 .816 103 1939 22 154 587 84 191 35 11 13 97 51 41 .325 .379 .489 .868 123 1940 23 151 569 79 163 30 10 18 96 45 57 .286 .338 .469 .807 109 1941 24 149 581 83 156 31 13 23 84 51 56 .269 .330 .485 .815 118 1942 25 152 597 80 175 33 9 14 86 41 44 .294 .339 .451 .789 127 1943 26 136 527 68 145 34 8 13 71 47 35 .276 .335 .448 .783 134 1944 27 149 573 74 169 41 9 13 91 53 29 .295 .355 .466 .821 137 1945 28 133 486 61 133 29 5 13 68 42 34 .273 .330 .434 .764 131 1946 29 138 517 73 138 26 6 22 91 32 63 .267 .310 .469 .779 121 1947 30 152 552 77 157 26 4 24 105 79 50 .284 .374 .477 .851 139 1948 31 153 558 91 166 24 4 31 119 89 52 .297 .395 .522 .917 145 1949 32 80 246 35 57 9 2 8 30 38 26 .232 .335 .382 .717 91 1950 33 13 28 2 9 2 0 0 2 3 6 .321 .387 .393 .780 92 Career 1709 6398 892 1818 352 91 218 1054 603 568 .284 .346 .470 .816 122
“Puddin’ Head” (he got the colorful nickname as a boy, from a popular novelty song on the radio, “Wooden Head Puddin’ Head Jones”) was pretty much Keltner in a slightly lower key. He spent most of his career struggling to regain the quality of performance he showed in his first few years, a pattern that seemed to apply to quite of few of the Whiz Kids.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1947 21 18 62 5 14 0 1 0 10 7 0 .226 .304 .258 .562 53 1948 22 17 60 9 20 2 0 2 9 3 5 .333 .365 .467 .832 126 1949 23 149 532 71 130 35 1 19 77 65 66 .244 .328 .421 .749 102 1950 24 157 610 100 163 28 6 25 88 61 40 .267 .337 .456 .793 108 1951 25 148 564 79 161 28 5 22 81 60 47 .285 .358 .470 .828 122 1952 26 148 527 79 141 17 4 17 76 79 45 .268 .363 .413 .776 116 1953 27 149 515 68 123 29 1 19 75 72 59 .238 .331 .410 .741 93 1954 28 146 554 74 156 28 4 19 73 60 49 .281 .351 .448 .800 108 1955 29 153 579 88 153 25 5 22 86 66 44 .264 .340 .440 .780 107 1956 30 149 520 88 144 20 4 17 78 92 49 .277 .383 .429 .812 121 1957 31 133 453 66 116 18 2 13 62 67 45 .256 .353 .395 .747 104 1958 32 118 398 52 108 15 1 14 60 49 45 .271 .351 .420 .771 104 1959 33 130 411 57 105 22 2 14 56 48 43 .255 .332 .421 .753 98 1960 34 79 149 16 40 7 0 3 27 31 16 .268 .388 .376 .764 109 1961 35 9 7 1 0 0 0 0 0 2 3 .000 .222 .000 .222 -34 Career 1704 5941 853 1574 274 37 206 857 763 556 .265 .348 .428 .776 107
Defensive third basemen don’t get any better than Cloyd and Ken’s little brother. He wasn’t fast, but was quick, smooth, sure-handed and rifle-armed, entirely capable of having been a good-fielding shortstop for most of his career.
But Clete’s hitting was all over the place; in his periodic down years, phenomenal though his glovework was, he really didn’t have much business being a full-time third baseman. As such one can question the Yankees’ wisdom of committing to Boyer at third base rather than shortstop; clearly they gained defensively in that tradeoff, but at a meaningful offensive cost.
Here we see a Boyer who avoids the worst slumps, and is a definite asset.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1955 18 47 79 3 19 1 0 0 6 3 17 .241 .268 .253 .521 41 1956 19 67 129 15 28 3 1 1 4 11 24 .217 .284 .279 .563 50 1957 20 10 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1959 22 47 114 4 20 2 0 0 3 6 23 .175 .215 .193 .408 15 1960 23 124 393 54 95 20 1 14 46 23 85 .242 .285 .405 .690 90 1961 24 152 550 62 131 18 4 21 82 47 82 .239 .298 .400 .699 90 1962 25 158 566 85 154 24 1 18 68 51 106 .272 .331 .413 .744 102 1963 26 156 563 76 149 23 2 16 63 45 101 .265 .320 .397 .717 100 1964 27 148 513 60 123 19 6 15 56 38 84 .240 .292 .385 .677 86 1965 28 148 514 69 129 23 6 18 58 39 79 .251 .304 .424 .728 106 1966 29 153 544 76 143 23 2 17 64 49 87 .262 .324 .405 .728 101 1967 30 154 572 63 140 18 3 26 96 39 81 .245 .292 .423 .715 104 1968 31 124 453 50 110 16 4 16 57 31 64 .244 .292 .401 .694 106 1969 32 144 496 57 124 16 1 14 57 55 87 .250 .328 .371 .699 95 1970 33 134 475 44 117 14 1 16 62 41 71 .246 .305 .381 .686 79 1971 34 30 98 10 24 1 0 6 19 8 11 .245 .299 .439 .738 102 Career 1796 6058 730 1507 221 31 197 742 487 1001 .249 .305 .393 .698 94
Slick-fielding, streaky-hitting shortstops
The defensive quality of this trio is amply demonstrated by the degree to which each was able to sustain regular playing time even when he wasn’t hitting a lick. Thus when they were able to hold their own with the bat, a whole lotta value was being delivered.
This tall, slim, elegant fielder is well-remembered for his general offensive futility. But he actually had a few pretty good years at the plate, thus making his bad-hitting seasons all the more frustrating.
The Orioles hired Charlie Lau as hitting coach in 1969, his first stint in that role. Manager Earl Weaver assigned Lau the particular daunting task of getting Belanger to gain some semblance of ability to make contact. Lau’s results were astonishing: Belanger’s spike in batting average from .208 to .287 is among the most remarkable in history.
Alas, Lau would leave, hired away by Charlie Finley to see what he could do with underperforming young talents Joe Rudi and Dave Duncan. While Lau was performing similar miracles with those kids on Oakland, and subsequently with Hal McRae and George Brett in Kansas City, without Lau’s presence in Baltimore Belanger would spend the rest of his career only intermittently regaining the capacity to reliably slap singles.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1965 21 11 3 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 .333 .333 .333 .667 89 1966 22 8 19 2 3 1 0 0 0 0 3 .158 .158 .211 .368 6 1967 23 69 184 19 32 5 0 1 10 12 46 .174 .224 .217 .442 32 1968 24 150 452 43 99 12 1 3 25 37 73 .220 .279 .266 .546 66 1969 25 150 530 76 152 17 4 2 50 53 54 .287 .352 .345 .697 95 1970 26 148 495 65 126 12 5 2 43 53 60 .255 .326 .305 .632 75 1971 27 150 500 67 133 19 4 0 35 73 48 .266 .360 .320 .680 97 1972 28 129 380 48 88 14 1 2 26 31 57 .232 .291 .290 .580 71 1973 29 151 490 65 124 18 3 0 32 65 50 .253 .341 .302 .642 84 1974 30 152 518 69 138 16 4 3 45 52 59 .267 .335 .331 .666 95 1975 31 153 496 59 127 18 2 2 36 46 60 .257 .320 .311 .631 84 1976 32 153 522 66 141 22 2 1 40 51 64 .270 .335 .326 .661 100 1977 33 146 453 54 111 15 4 2 38 47 62 .244 .315 .307 .622 76 1978 34 145 409 50 90 14 1 0 22 45 55 .220 .297 .257 .553 62 1979 35 127 320 36 67 9 2 2 18 33 43 .208 .281 .258 .539 49 1980 36 113 268 37 61 7 3 0 22 12 25 .228 .261 .276 .537 48 1981 37 64 139 9 23 3 2 1 10 12 25 .165 .232 .237 .469 39 1982 38 54 50 6 12 1 0 0 4 5 10 .240 .309 .260 .569 63 Career 2071 6227 770 1529 202 36 19 456 626 794 .245 .314 .299 .613 77
Though his career OPS+ was just 80, Miller was such a terrific defensive shortstop that he gained MVP votes in eight separate years. And this short, muscular infielder had two seasons—his first full big league year, at age 23, and another one toward the end when he was 30—in which he hit darn well, especially for power. Had he been able to hit that way consistently, much less had he attained a peak performance higher than that somewhere in his mid-to-late 20s, then Miller would have been a big star, worthy of Hall of Fame consideration.
Our version is more conservative than that, but is able to avoid the worst of the offensive trough in which Miller became mired through the heart of his career.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1936 19 5 10 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 1 .100 .182 .100 .282 -20 1937 20 36 60 3 9 3 1 0 5 3 8 .150 .190 .233 .424 17 1939 22 77 296 32 79 12 2 4 31 16 21 .267 .304 .361 .666 87 1940 23 151 569 78 157 33 3 14 79 41 43 .276 .325 .418 .743 110 1941 24 153 580 62 146 29 3 9 72 37 62 .251 .296 .356 .652 87 1942 25 148 552 63 144 31 3 10 63 32 43 .260 .300 .379 .679 100 1943 26 153 567 61 140 31 4 9 77 39 42 .248 .296 .364 .660 91 1944 27 153 547 61 132 28 4 10 69 43 41 .241 .296 .365 .661 88 1945 28 133 483 58 123 33 3 16 68 34 39 .255 .303 .434 .737 105 1946 29 131 464 56 117 29 3 15 70 41 38 .252 .313 .421 .734 111 1947 30 151 545 69 146 38 4 19 87 49 40 .268 .328 .457 .785 109 1948 31 130 468 45 115 20 1 14 61 19 40 .246 .275 .382 .658 80 1949 32 85 266 21 55 10 1 6 29 29 21 .207 .285 .320 .604 67 1950 33 64 172 17 39 8 0 3 22 19 21 .227 .304 .326 .629 63 Career 1569 5577 625 1402 304 31 129 733 402 460 .251 .302 .386 .688 92
This rangy middle infielder transformed his career in his early 30s, suddenly developing the ability to hit for power (and to draw walks exceptionally well) on top of his already well-regarded defensive game. The explanation was apparently improved eyesight, as Joost became one of the few players of his era to wear glasses on the field.
Our Joost hits as well in his 20s as he did in his 30s, and the result is an extraordinarily impressive career. This Eddie probably wouldn’t be in the Hall of Fame, because of the historical bias in favor of batting average, but I’m betting the Hall of Merit would have been quite favorably disposed.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1936 20 13 26 1 4 1 0 0 1 2 5 .154 .214 .192 .407 13 1937 21 6 12 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000 .083 .083 .167 -54 1939 23 42 143 23 36 6 3 0 14 12 15 .252 .310 .336 .645 73 1940 24 104 354 49 82 12 2 6 34 61 56 .232 .344 .327 .671 85 1941 25 141 518 88 130 23 3 12 50 103 78 .251 .375 .375 .750 111 1942 26 141 556 93 149 29 4 15 66 91 66 .268 .371 .414 .785 129 1943 27 132 489 79 120 22 3 12 50 97 78 .246 .370 .379 .749 118 1944 28 143 547 101 146 27 4 20 77 114 82 .267 .394 .438 .832 130 1945 29 133 497 72 115 23 3 11 55 91 74 .232 .350 .355 .705 96 1946 30 140 509 112 129 21 3 21 73 133 76 .254 .408 .432 .841 136 1947 31 146 530 111 129 24 3 20 75 137 90 .244 .399 .412 .811 124 1948 32 135 509 99 127 22 2 16 55 119 87 .250 .392 .395 .787 110 1949 33 144 525 128 138 25 3 23 81 149 80 .263 .426 .453 .879 137 1950 34 131 476 79 111 12 3 18 58 101 68 .233 .367 .384 .752 96 1951 35 140 553 107 160 28 5 19 78 106 70 .289 .404 .461 .865 133 1952 36 146 540 94 132 26 3 20 75 122 94 .244 .384 .415 .799 118 1953 37 51 177 39 44 6 0 6 15 45 24 .249 .401 .384 .785 109 1954 38 19 47 7 17 3 0 1 9 10 10 .362 .474 .489 .963 165 1955 39 55 119 15 23 2 0 5 17 17 21 .193 .294 .336 .630 65 Career 1960 7128 1297 1794 311 44 224 884 1510 1073 .252 .382 .402 .785 114
Lost in Space
Not unlike young Will Robinson in the campy TV show of the 1960s, this toolsy outfielder spent years wandering uncharted reaches of the darkest baseball wilderness. I suspect that infuriating stowaway Dr. Smith might have had something to do with it.
At the start, Robinson seemed destined for stardom. He was the complete package: big and powerful, with good speed and a strong arm. He topped off a fine minor league career with a .312, 20-homer season in Triple-A in 1966. However, the Braves were overloaded in the outfield, and the Yankees were able to pluck him away in a trade for none other than Clete Boyer.
But in New York, Robinson was overmatched by major league pitching, suffering through a dreadful rookie campaign in 1967. He seemed to be figuring it out in 1968, and then completely fell apart in ’69. He would disappear entirely from the majors for the next two years, an apparent new entry on the long historical list of big-talent washouts.
Then the Phillies resurrected him from minor league oblivion, and at the age of 29 Robinson delivered a so-so season as a utility outfielder. It looked like that would be the best he had to offer, when suddenly in 1973, at the age of 30, Robinson busted out the kind of big-hitting performance he’d been expected to deliver long before.
But that wasn’t the end of his roller-coaster ride, as in the following season Robinson flopped yet again. Then the Pirates gave him a shot as a bench player, and Robinson performed well. He hit his way into a platoon role, and would finally establish himself in his mid-30s as a regular, and something of a star.
Here we see a Robinson who has some difficulty getting it going, but nothing all that disastrous, and so his eventual emergence as a robust producer doesn’t seem quite so stunning. This version is also able to hang onto the formula once he finds it.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1966 23 6 11 1 3 0 1 0 3 0 1 .273 .273 .455 .728 96 1967 24 93 239 23 52 8 1 8 24 13 39 .219 .258 .357 .615 85 1968 25 107 342 34 82 16 7 6 40 26 54 .240 .294 .380 .674 107 1969 26 96 261 29 57 13 1 4 26 17 54 .218 .265 .328 .592 68 1970 27 100 271 30 69 14 5 6 37 19 45 .255 .302 .406 .708 90 1971 28 118 386 49 101 23 2 13 58 25 75 .261 .306 .429 .735 107 1972 29 118 354 47 95 19 3 19 54 19 67 .270 .306 .500 .807 125 1973 30 124 452 62 130 32 1 25 65 27 91 .288 .326 .529 .855 132 1974 31 146 490 63 131 31 1 20 63 29 102 .268 .309 .459 .768 110 1975 32 148 522 73 153 34 2 26 91 28 99 .293 .330 .513 .843 133 1976 33 149 543 76 156 33 4 25 88 27 105 .287 .320 .500 .821 131 1977 34 137 507 74 154 32 1 26 104 25 92 .304 .337 .525 .862 126 1978 35 140 476 68 129 28 3 21 86 28 93 .272 .312 .479 .791 114 1979 36 148 421 59 111 17 6 24 75 24 81 .264 .302 .504 .806 112 1980 37 100 272 28 78 10 1 12 36 15 45 .287 .320 .463 .783 114 1981 38 39 88 8 19 3 0 2 8 5 18 .216 .258 .318 .576 61 1982 39 66 140 14 35 9 0 7 31 12 34 .250 .303 .464 .767 110 1983 40 10 7 0 1 0 0 0 2 1 4 .143 .250 .143 .393 12 Career 1845 5780 737 1556 323 38 244 890 339 1097 .269 .310 .465 .775 114
The occasionally misfiring cannon
The diminutive, abundantly talented Toy Cannon was prone to the occasional injury and deep slump. How about this version instead, without the off-years? Would the Hall of Fame have treated him as the Hall of Merit did?
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1963 21 70 250 31 61 10 5 4 27 30 53 .244 .319 .372 .691 104 1964 22 97 341 46 87 16 4 10 39 46 78 .257 .344 .415 .759 118 1965 23 157 564 90 155 30 7 22 73 84 126 .275 .371 .470 .841 144 1966 24 140 525 85 137 27 4 26 81 66 115 .260 .343 .471 .815 131 1967 25 158 594 102 148 29 3 37 107 74 137 .249 .331 .495 .826 138 1968 26 156 542 85 146 23 5 26 67 90 131 .269 .376 .474 .850 158 1969 27 149 495 113 133 17 1 33 87 148 142 .269 .436 .507 .943 167 1970 28 157 554 82 156 32 2 27 88 106 96 .282 .394 .493 .887 141 1971 29 142 500 79 129 26 2 19 74 88 86 .257 .369 .431 .800 129 1972 30 145 542 117 148 29 3 24 90 103 99 .273 .389 .470 .859 146 1973 31 145 519 104 133 20 4 25 84 101 102 .256 .377 .456 .833 132 1974 32 150 535 104 145 17 4 32 108 108 104 .271 .387 .497 .884 151 1975 33 130 412 80 102 16 0 18 58 110 77 .248 .403 .417 .820 133 1976 34 148 449 75 93 19 1 17 66 127 111 .207 .377 .367 .744 108 1977 35 66 194 17 34 5 2 1 13 32 47 .175 .289 .237 .526 46 Career 2009 7017 1210 1807 315 46 322 1062 1313 1504 .258 .375 .453 .828 135
Fitful ’50s firepower
What if this pair of sluggers hadn’t been so brittle?
He’s mostly remembered today as the guy who blasted the longest out in World Series history, and perhaps that’s a fitting status for this fellow, as the fates seemed resolutely determined to prevent him from fulfilling his potential.
Wertz emerged as a top-tier power-hitting right fielder in Detroit in his mid-20s, but chronic leg trouble steadily eroded his performance. When he hit that famous Polo Grounds clout in October of 1954, Wertz was a twice-traded gimpy-kneed first baseman, though he was still only 29.
And things would get worse, as the following season Wertz was stricken with polio. He battled through that and regained his status as a slugging star, but then suffered a broken ankle in 1958. He would work his way back from that as well, and compile the fifth 100-RBI season of his career at age 35.
This version of Wertz gets a few nicks, but remains generally healthy. It isn’t quite a Hall of Fame career, but it’s a real good one.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1947 22 102 333 60 96 22 4 6 44 47 66 .288 .376 .432 .808 122 1948 23 125 444 68 126 22 6 11 81 58 66 .284 .367 .437 .804 111 1949 24 155 608 96 185 26 6 20 133 80 61 .304 .385 .465 .850 125 1950 25 149 559 99 172 37 4 27 123 91 55 .308 .408 .533 .941 136 1951 26 138 501 86 143 24 4 27 94 78 61 .285 .383 .511 .894 140 1952 27 137 482 81 136 23 4 26 86 77 66 .282 .381 .509 .890 145 1953 28 146 526 84 153 29 5 24 102 86 52 .290 .390 .504 .893 138 1954 29 141 476 64 129 19 1 23 87 65 76 .271 .358 .458 .816 123 1955 30 150 527 68 137 24 1 33 115 76 86 .260 .354 .497 .851 124 1956 31 136 481 65 127 22 0 32 106 75 87 .264 .364 .509 .873 127 1957 32 144 515 84 145 21 0 28 105 78 88 .282 .371 .485 .856 133 1958 33 81 262 35 70 12 0 18 59 40 47 .265 .363 .510 .872 139 1959 34 119 381 61 107 17 0 18 77 50 60 .280 .363 .462 .825 122 1960 35 131 443 45 125 22 0 19 103 37 54 .282 .335 .460 .795 111 1961 36 107 323 33 84 16 2 11 61 38 44 .260 .336 .424 .760 101 1962 37 74 105 7 34 2 0 5 18 5 13 .324 .357 .486 .843 122 1963 38 41 49 3 6 0 0 3 7 6 6 .122 .218 .306 .524 44 Career 2075 7015 1040 1974 337 38 330 1402 988 988 .281 .370 .481 .851 126
This huge, strong free-swinger was trapped behind Ted Kluszewski in Cincinnati at the outset of his career. Then in Milwaukee he got the chance he deserved as a full-time first baseman, but every time he seemed ready to break out as a superstar slugger he’d get hurt.
Here we see a reasonably durable edition of Adcock, and he launches more than 400 missiles.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1950 22 102 372 46 109 16 1 8 55 24 24 .293 .336 .406 .742 94 1951 23 133 458 52 124 22 4 12 62 28 36 .271 .313 .415 .728 93 1952 24 148 538 63 152 31 6 17 73 36 67 .282 .327 .456 .783 115 1953 25 157 590 71 168 33 6 18 80 42 82 .285 .334 .453 .787 108 1954 26 133 500 73 154 27 5 23 87 44 58 .308 .365 .520 .885 134 1955 27 145 527 77 148 27 2 30 93 50 80 .280 .343 .509 .851 128 1956 28 144 527 87 153 28 2 42 116 39 104 .290 .339 .589 .928 150 1957 29 139 497 67 139 27 3 29 87 39 108 .280 .332 .521 .853 132 1958 30 145 522 67 147 25 2 32 92 37 102 .282 .329 .517 .846 128 1959 31 149 545 72 158 24 2 34 103 47 101 .290 .346 .528 .874 137 1960 32 138 514 55 153 21 4 25 91 46 86 .298 .354 .500 .854 139 1961 33 152 562 77 160 20 0 35 108 59 94 .285 .354 .507 .861 132 1962 34 136 461 58 117 15 1 33 92 57 103 .254 .336 .507 .843 126 1963 35 121 434 45 110 12 1 23 77 50 83 .253 .330 .445 .775 115 1964 36 118 366 39 98 13 0 21 64 48 61 .268 .352 .475 .827 139 1965 37 122 349 30 84 14 0 14 47 37 74 .241 .315 .401 .716 105 1966 38 83 231 33 63 10 3 18 48 31 48 .273 .355 .576 .931 167 Career 2264 7993 1012 2236 362 40 415 1374 714 1310 .280 .339 .491 .830 125
Fragilekaline
It’s a measure of just what a phenomenal talent Kaline was that he achieved 3,000 hits and cruised into the Hall of Fame despite developing a nasty habit of getting hurt in his early 20s, and never managing to kick it.
Kaline never encountered the catastrophic, season-ending sort of injury, but he was the all-time undisputed king of the out-for-a-few-weeks sort of boo-boo. Among the bones he fractured were the jaw (1959), the collarbone (1962), the hand (1967), and the arm (1968), and in between he was forever wrenching this or spraining that.
Kaline was an exquisitely well-rounded talent. Few superstars in history have combined the ability to hit for average, with power, with strike zone discipline, and with elite-caliber right field defense as he did. While there was always someone else a little bit better than Kaline, it was only a little bit.
We won’t go so far as to imagine Aaron-like durability for Kaline. But had he just managed to sustain some reasonable manner of injury avoidance, the resulting career would likely have been something like this.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1953 18 30 28 9 7 0 0 1 2 1 5 .250 .300 .357 .657 77 1954 19 138 504 42 139 18 3 4 43 22 45 .276 .305 .347 .652 80 1955 20 152 588 121 200 24 8 27 102 82 57 .340 .421 .546 .967 162 1956 21 153 617 96 194 32 10 27 128 70 55 .314 .383 .530 .913 139 1957 22 151 597 90 182 31 7 25 109 57 47 .305 .365 .505 .870 133 1958 23 149 566 103 185 29 8 22 94 68 52 .327 .399 .519 .918 145 1959 24 136 511 86 167 19 2 27 94 72 42 .327 .410 .530 .940 151 1960 25 145 549 93 170 30 4 20 81 68 44 .309 .385 .490 .875 133 1961 26 153 586 116 190 41 7 19 82 66 42 .324 .393 .515 .908 139 1962 27 145 569 109 175 26 8 36 121 65 53 .308 .379 .569 .949 149 1963 28 145 551 89 172 24 3 27 101 54 48 .312 .375 .514 .889 144 1964 29 146 538 83 163 28 4 22 85 65 50 .303 .378 .492 .869 138 1965 30 134 469 85 142 23 2 23 84 70 48 .302 .392 .511 .903 153 1966 31 155 525 94 152 32 1 32 96 89 71 .290 .393 .535 .928 161 1967 32 152 530 107 162 32 2 29 91 95 57 .305 .411 .541 .951 177 1968 33 120 377 63 108 17 2 14 60 70 48 .287 .399 .455 .854 156 1969 34 137 468 80 131 23 1 25 79 68 64 .280 .371 .492 .863 136 1970 35 131 463 79 136 26 3 21 75 80 48 .293 .397 .495 .892 144 1971 36 133 405 69 119 19 2 15 54 82 57 .294 .416 .462 .878 144 1972 37 106 278 46 87 11 2 10 32 28 33 .313 .374 .475 .849 149 1973 38 91 310 40 79 13 0 10 45 29 28 .255 .320 .394 .714 96 1974 39 147 558 71 146 28 2 13 64 65 75 .262 .337 .389 .726 107 Career 2948 10585 1770 3206 525 80 449 1720 1364 1067 .303 .382 .495 .877 140
References & Resources
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.