Filling the Mickey Vernon Gaps: Volume I
Mickey Vernon was an excellent player in a very long major league career, a Keith Hernandez or Mark Grace sort of talent: a slick-fielding, line-drive-hitting first baseman with limited home run power. But that’s not really what’s most interesting about Mickey Vernon.
In his original Historical Baseball Abstract of 1985, Bill James made the following comment:
Mickey Vernon had one of the most inconsistent careers of any player who ever played the game. After having a monster year in 1946, hitting .353 with 51 doubles, he dropped off to .265 (in 600 at bats) in 1947, and then for good measure, lost another 23 points in 1948, dropping all the way down to .242 with 3 homers and 48 RBI in 558 at bats. Then, in 1949, he jumped back up to .291 with 18 homers (twice as many as he had hit in any of his six previous seasons as a regular) and 83 RBI …
Vernon is one of those players, like Rico Carty or Frank Howard, who would be in the Hall of Fame if he had just put in an ordinary progression between his high spots.
I read that 20 years ago, and said to myself, “Self! That’s so true! What would Vernon’s or Carty’s or Howard’s career have looked like if it hadn’t been so weird? I’m gonna sit down and figure that out.”
Well, 20 years might be a long time, but never let it be said that I don’t follow through on my pledges to myself. Here, at last, let’s figure this out.
Mickey V.
How about, to start with, we review the actual stats of Mickey Vernon:
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1939 21 76 276 23 71 15 4 1 30 24 28 .257 .317 .351 .762 76 1940 22 5 19 0 3 0 0 0 0 0 3 .158 .158 .158 .756 -16 1941 23 138 531 73 159 27 11 9 93 43 51 .299 .352 .443 .742 113 1942 24 151 621 76 168 34 6 9 86 59 63 .271 .337 .388 .709 104 1943 25 145 553 89 148 29 8 7 70 67 55 .268 .357 .387 .672 121 1944 26 (In Military Service) 1945 27 (In Military Service) 1946 28 148 587 88 207 51 8 8 85 49 64 .353 .403 .508 .699 160 1947 29 154 600 77 159 29 12 7 85 49 42 .265 .320 .388 .711 99 1948 30 150 558 78 135 27 7 3 48 54 43 .242 .310 .332 .743 73 1949 31 153 584 72 170 27 4 18 83 58 51 .291 .357 .443 .750 113 1950 32 118 417 55 117 17 3 9 75 62 39 .281 .379 .400 .768 104 1951 33 141 546 69 160 30 7 9 87 53 45 .293 .358 .423 .735 112 1952 34 154 569 71 143 33 9 10 80 89 66 .251 .353 .394 .710 110 1953 35 152 608 101 205 43 11 15 115 63 57 .337 .403 .518 .736 149 1954 36 151 597 90 173 33 14 20 97 61 61 .290 .357 .492 .713 137 1955 37 150 538 74 162 23 8 14 85 74 50 .301 .384 .452 .727 130 1956 38 119 403 67 125 28 4 15 84 57 40 .310 .403 .511 .794 130 1957 39 102 270 36 65 18 1 7 38 41 35 .241 .350 .393 .750 98 1958 40 119 355 49 104 22 3 8 55 44 56 .293 .372 .439 .722 125 1959 41 74 91 8 20 4 0 3 14 7 20 .220 .283 .363 .728 77 1960 42 9 8 0 1 0 0 0 1 1 0 .125 .222 .125 .736 -2 Total 2409 8731 1196 2495 490 120 172 1311 955 869 .286 .359 .428 .728 116
And here’s what James had to say about Vernon in his next edition of the Historical Abstract, in 2001:
Mickey Vernon had a long career punctuated by several brilliant seasons … he played for years with back trouble, which finally disappeared after he was operated on for appendicitis. The years in which he had back trouble are obvious in his batting stats.
They sure are, aren’t they?
So what do we suppose Vernon’s career might have looked like if he’d had that appendectomy many years earlier? And while we’re at it, why don’t we imagine that Vernon’s draft board had classified him as 4-F? In other words, how about if we envision “an ordinary progression between his high spots”?
My best guess is that he’d have put together a record looking something like what follows. Seasons we’ve left alone are displayed in black, and seasons we’ve adjusted are displayed in blue (the methodology employed to derive it is explained in the References and Resources section below):
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1939 21 76 276 23 71 15 4 1 30 24 28 .257 .317 .351 .668 76 1940 22 5 19 0 3 0 0 0 0 0 3 .158 .158 .158 .316 -16 1941 23 138 531 73 159 27 11 9 93 43 51 .299 .352 .443 .795 114 1942 24 151 621 76 168 34 6 9 86 59 63 .271 .337 .388 .725 104 1943 25 145 553 89 148 29 8 7 70 67 55 .268 .357 .387 .744 121 1944 26 146 573 82 171 35 8 8 84 55 58 .298 .359 .431 .790 129 1945 27 147 570 89 178 40 8 8 78 58 60 .311 .375 .449 .824 147 1946 28 148 587 88 207 51 8 8 85 49 64 .353 .403 .508 .911 160 1947 29 152 595 85 185 38 9 12 92 55 54 .311 .370 .464 .834 134 1948 30 151 584 85 179 37 8 11 83 56 54 .307 .367 .452 .820 120 1949 31 153 584 72 170 27 4 18 83 58 51 .291 .357 .443 .800 113 1950 32 139 534 78 166 34 8 12 86 57 55 .310 .377 .474 .851 121 1951 33 141 546 69 160 30 7 9 87 53 45 .293 .358 .423 .781 112 1952 34 152 564 72 158 28 7 14 83 74 56 .281 .364 .429 .793 123 1953 35 152 608 101 205 43 11 15 115 63 57 .337 .403 .518 .921 149 1954 36 151 597 90 173 33 14 20 97 61 61 .290 .357 .492 .849 137 1955 37 150 538 74 162 23 8 14 85 74 50 .301 .384 .452 .836 130 1956 38 119 403 67 125 28 4 15 84 57 40 .310 .403 .511 .914 130 1957 39 102 270 36 65 18 1 7 38 41 35 .241 .350 .393 .743 99 1958 40 119 355 49 104 22 3 8 55 44 56 .293 .372 .439 .811 125 1959 41 74 91 8 20 4 0 3 14 7 20 .220 .283 .363 .646 77 1960 42 9 8 0 1 0 0 0 1 1 0 .125 .222 .125 .347 -2 Total 2719 10006 1404 2978 595 137 208 1527 1055 1014 .298 .365 .447 .811 124
So, let’s see … very nearly 3,000 hits and 600 doubles, with three batting titles. We might well be reading Mickey Vernon’s name on a plaque in Cooperstown.
We understand that this is the idealized Vernon, of course, the best possible version of Mickey Vernon, if you will. Things might just as plausibly have gone all wrong for him, and his career might easily have been half as long as half as good. But in acknowledging that, we must also acknowledge that the pretty much all of the greatest careers are something very close to the best possible versions of those players. That’s a credit to those players, for sure, but it also calls for a tip of the cap to the good fortune of those players. Things in history didn’t have to go just the way they did.
The actual Mickey Vernon was a player with the capability of producing a terrific season, but for one reason or another he was unable to achieve that standard very consistently. However, given what we know about Vernon, we can construct a plausible version of his career in which he did achieve a rather high degree of consistency, and doing so provides an interesting and fun glimpse at the best-case scenario for his career.
Let’s see … who were those other guys that James mentioned as having careers of Vernon-like inconsistency …
Look Up “Pure Hitter” in the Dictionary, and You’ll See This Guy’s Picture
Devoid of defensive skill and dreadfully slow, Carty could do just one thing to help his team win. Fortunately, he did that one thing amazingly well.
Carty’s career was a mess: rather than a graceful arc, a plague of health calamities instead created a jagged skyline. After a spectacular rookie year in 1964, Carty missed nearly half of the 1965 season due to a leg injury. He came back with a terrific ’66, but then was bothered by a chronic chest cough in 1967, a condition that progressed to a full-blown tuberculosis, sidelining Carty for all of 1968 and placing his career (if not his life) in doubt.
But Carty made it back, hitting .342 in 1969 despite repeatedly dislocating his shoulder. In 1970 his robust hitting through the season’s early months (he was at .401 as late as June 17th) captured the nation’s fancy, and he was voted by fans as a write-in starter in the All-Star Game.
But then Carty shattered a knee in winter ball, a devastating injury which kept him out for all of 1971 and severely impaired him throughout 1972-73. His major league career appeared all but done, yet in 1974 the 34-year-old unsinkable Carty regained enough function in the knee to hit with something approaching his old authority—and that was a most commanding authority indeed. The Designated Hitter Rule, if it wasn’t written specifically for the benefit of Rico Carty, might well have been.
Our version of Carty remains rather fragile, but we’ve eliminated the yawning gaps and chasms. Could he hit, or what?
Carty in the batter’s box was a most singular presence. Imposingly tall, broad-shouldered and long-legged (think of a right-handed version of Fred McGriff), “Beeg Mon” would simply walk to the plate and take his stance, ready to go, right now. No fiddling about whatsoever, no tapping the bat on home plate, often not even taking so much as a practice swing (something I’ve never seen in any other batter, anytime, anywhere). Carty’s very stillness shot a chill up the spine. The huge angry dog to be truly feared is the one who neither barks nor growls: that beast has no intention of warning you off, but is instead going directly for the kill.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1963 23 2 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 .000 .000 .000 .000 -100 1964 24 133 455 72 150 28 4 22 88 43 78 .330 .388 .554 .942 161 1965 25 83 271 37 84 18 1 10 35 17 44 .310 .355 .494 .849 136 1966 26 151 521 73 170 25 2 15 76 60 74 .326 .391 .468 .859 136 1967 27 143 483 57 142 21 2 15 70 55 72 .293 .365 .437 .802 130 1968 28 109 358 39 99 17 2 13 50 33 57 .276 .337 .436 .773 132 1969 29 104 304 47 104 15 0 16 58 32 28 .342 .401 .549 .950 165 1970 30 136 478 84 175 23 3 25 101 77 46 .366 .454 .584 1.038 170 1971 31 109 351 54 118 17 2 16 63 51 36 .336 .420 .527 .947 161 1972 32 128 420 61 142 20 3 16 73 63 44 .337 .423 .511 .934 156 1973 33 134 471 60 145 23 1 14 75 63 47 .307 .388 .452 .840 138 1974 34 99 334 44 100 15 1 17 60 36 32 .299 .367 .498 .865 149 1975 35 118 383 57 118 19 1 18 64 45 31 .308 .378 .504 .882 148 1976 36 152 552 67 171 34 0 13 83 67 45 .310 .379 .442 .821 142 1977 37 127 461 50 129 23 1 15 80 56 51 .280 .355 .432 .787 117 1978 38 145 528 70 149 21 1 31 99 57 57 .282 .348 .502 .850 137 1979 39 132 461 48 118 26 0 12 55 46 45 .256 .322 .390 .712 91 Total 2003 6832 920 2112 345 22 267 1129 800 789 .309 .382 .483 .865 142
How About Hondo?
The biggest baseball player of his era—6-foot-7 and somewhere around 260 very solid pounds—Howard made an early splash, being named the National League Rookie of the Year in 1960. At the end of that decade, he was among the game’s elite stars, blasting the most home runs of any slugger from 1968 through 1970. Ordinarily, when a guy is Rookie of the Year and then still a huge star ten years later, we’re probably in Hall of Fame territory. But Howard isn’t a serious HOF candidate, because in between his great start and magnificent peak, he sort of got lost.
The first problem wasn’t his fault: in a remarkably crowded Dodger outfield in 1961, Howard was reduced to a platoon player. He then enjoyed what looked to be a breakout season in ’62, but in subsequent years the major stardom that appeared to be within his grasp slipped away: in 1963 Howard was again frequently benched against right-handers, and in ’64 his batting average spiraled into the .220s.
The Dodgers lost patience, and traded the big fellow to Washington. With the Senators in 1965 and 1966, Howard appears to have concentrated on avoiding strikeouts, which kept his batting average healthy but meaningfully reduced his power output—not a satisfactory outcome, as a player of Howard’s incredible strength and strictly limited defensive and baserunning capacity really needs to hit for power to be a significant asset.
In ’67 he went back to whaling at the ball, and finally in 1968, at the age of 31, he broke through as a dominating slugger. In the two seasons following that, under the tutelage of manager Ted Williams, Howard added excellent strike zone discipline to his repertoire, and remained a terrific offensive force. But by then he was well into his thirties, and soon Howard declined.
Our version of Hondo significantly fills in the mid-60s trough, and presents a plausible scenario of a consistently productive power guy through the decade. This probably still doesn’t get him to Cooperstown, but his case would have to be taken seriously.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1958 21 8 29 3 7 1 0 1 2 1 11 .241 .267 .379 .646 67 1959 22 9 21 2 3 0 1 1 6 2 9 .143 .217 .381 .598 51 1960 23 117 448 54 120 15 2 23 77 32 108 .268 .320 .464 .784 107 1961 24 92 267 36 79 10 2 15 45 21 50 .296 .347 .517 .864 118 1962 25 141 493 80 146 25 6 31 119 39 108 .296 .346 .560 .906 145 1963 26 132 455 69 130 21 4 30 92 36 112 .286 .338 .541 .879 157 1964 27 144 508 73 136 22 4 33 98 48 121 .268 .331 .520 .851 143 1965 28 149 536 71 153 25 5 32 103 49 120 .286 .346 .530 .876 147 1966 29 148 528 70 149 24 4 31 99 49 118 .282 .343 .520 .863 146 1967 30 154 559 75 149 24 3 40 98 57 148 .266 .334 .533 .867 158 1968 31 158 598 79 164 28 3 44 106 54 141 .274 .338 .552 .890 171 1969 32 161 592 111 175 17 2 48 111 102 96 .296 .402 .574 .976 177 1970 33 161 566 90 160 15 1 44 126 132 125 .283 .416 .546 .962 170 1971 34 153 549 60 153 25 2 26 83 77 121 .279 .367 .474 .841 144 1972 35 109 320 29 78 10 0 10 38 46 63 .244 .340 .369 .709 114 1973 36 85 227 26 58 9 1 12 29 24 28 .256 .327 .463 .790 115 Total 1922 6695 928 1860 271 39 421 1231 769 1479 .278 .352 .518 .870 147
Slipping a Mickey to Boog
We can perform this exercise for more careers than just those mentioned by James off the top of his head. Once one thinks about it, there is many a guy who might look quite a bit different with just “an ordinary progression between his high spots” …
The good-natured, ever-popular Powell was a first-rate slugger—some of the time, anyway. It wasn’t until his ninth full season in the majors that the Boogster put fully “on” years back-to-back, an occurrence so startling to sportswriters that they voted Powell as the 1970 American League MVP, a selection that can certainly be questioned.
Our smoothed-out Powell’s career likely doesn’t merit Hall of Fame selection either, but with 397 homers in a low-scoring era he’d have merited reasonable consideration; a 145 OPS+ in 2000 games is pretty special. Take a look at that triples column, though: there’s slow, there’s slower, and then there’s Boog Speed.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1961 19 4 13 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 2 .077 .077 .077 .154 -58 1962 20 124 400 44 97 13 2 15 53 38 79 .243 .311 .398 .709 94 1963 21 140 491 67 130 22 2 25 82 49 87 .265 .328 .470 .798 123 1964 22 134 424 74 123 17 0 39 99 76 91 .290 .399 .606 1.005 176 1965 23 139 448 64 120 19 1 28 86 74 92 .268 .371 .501 .872 144 1966 24 140 491 78 141 18 0 34 109 67 125 .287 .372 .532 .904 159 1967 25 133 453 66 119 16 1 24 82 61 110 .263 .350 .456 .806 138 1968 26 153 542 72 150 23 1 30 103 73 87 .276 .362 .484 .845 155 1969 27 152 533 83 162 25 0 37 121 72 76 .304 .383 .559 .942 161 1970 28 154 526 82 156 28 0 35 114 104 80 .297 .412 .549 .961 163 1971 29 141 472 71 132 24 0 29 103 93 72 .279 .397 .510 .907 157 1972 30 142 478 67 136 21 0 28 96 65 80 .285 .371 .508 .879 157 1973 31 121 396 54 106 17 0 18 67 77 62 .267 .385 .449 .835 136 1974 32 122 390 51 110 16 1 20 66 56 65 .282 .372 .475 .847 146 1975 33 134 435 64 129 18 0 27 86 59 72 .297 .377 .524 .901 153 1976 34 95 293 29 63 9 0 9 33 41 43 .215 .305 .338 .643 90 1977 35 50 41 0 10 0 0 0 5 12 9 .244 .415 .244 .659 83 Total 2078 6825 964 1884 284 7 397 1305 1016 1231 .276 .370 .494 .864 145
All Right Then, How About This Interesting Guy
When he was good, he was very, very good, but this big, strong Canadian (who was apparently a bit temperamental) had an extraordinarily difficult time staying good. Our version allows him to remain fairly healthy and consistent, and the results are rather terrific. When his career was ended by a broken ankle at the age of 34, Heath really hadn’t lost any of his hitting ability.
There were significantly more triples hit in the 1930s and 1940s than today, but even adjusting for that, Heath was a tremendous triples hitter. A big guy who hits a lot of triples is, as Napoleon Dynamite might put it, pretty much my favorite player … it’s like a slugger and a speedster mixed. Bred for its skills in magic.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1936 21 12 41 6 14 3 3 1 8 3 4 .341 .386 .634 1.020 147 1937 22 20 61 8 14 1 4 0 8 0 9 .230 .230 .377 .607 50 1938 23 126 502 104 172 31 18 21 112 33 55 .343 .383 .602 .985 145 1939 24 133 506 86 166 31 15 20 101 41 63 .327 .378 .565 .943 141 1940 25 124 457 69 134 26 10 17 81 44 65 .294 .355 .509 .864 124 1941 26 151 585 89 199 32 20 24 123 50 69 .340 .396 .586 .982 162 1942 27 148 571 83 166 36 14 13 85 60 67 .291 .358 .471 .829 138 1943 28 133 483 67 136 25 8 20 91 68 65 .282 .370 .494 .864 159 1944 29 109 376 57 112 17 6 15 67 55 42 .298 .388 .497 .885 156 1945 30 125 442 68 145 21 12 18 87 50 48 .327 .395 .547 .942 177 1946 31 143 511 79 160 32 11 21 101 62 67 .314 .388 .547 .935 158 1947 32 146 489 83 137 26 7 27 92 79 76 .280 .380 .526 .907 148 1948 33 115 364 64 116 26 5 20 76 51 46 .319 .404 .582 .986 166 1949 34 36 111 17 34 7 0 9 23 15 26 .306 .389 .613 1.002 170 Total 1521 5499 880 1705 315 134 226 1055 611 702 .310 .379 .539 .918 150
Then How About Three More Big Guys Who Hit a Lot of Triples
As stark as Sierra’s “lost decade” between the ages of 25 and 35 looks when viewing his raw stats, the reality is even more severe than appears at first glance, given that his outstanding early seasons took place in a relatively low-scoring period, and his extreme drop-off phase beginning in 1993 coincided exactly with the great modern offensive boom. An examination of the OPS+ column is necessary to make it plain just how badly Sierra faded.
Our version pretty much ameliorates that. This Sierra, consistently productive through the 1990s, would have surpassed 450 homers and approached 3,000 hits, and would certainly have a contingent of send-him-to-Cooperstown advocates.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1986 20 113 382 50 101 13 10 16 55 22 65 .264 .302 .476 .778 107 1987 21 158 643 97 169 35 4 30 109 39 114 .263 .302 .470 .772 101 1988 22 156 615 77 156 32 2 23 91 44 91 .254 .301 .424 .725 100 1989 23 162 634 101 194 35 14 29 119 43 82 .306 .347 .543 .890 146 1990 24 161 625 91 186 36 10 25 111 45 83 .298 .345 .505 .850 136 1991 25 161 661 110 203 44 5 25 116 56 91 .307 .357 .502 .859 138 1992 26 158 641 101 191 41 6 22 106 52 83 .298 .351 .484 .835 137 1993 27 161 644 100 188 36 9 26 114 50 89 .292 .343 .496 .840 128 1994 28 108 431 70 131 26 6 19 80 32 58 .303 .351 .518 .869 129 1995 29 135 518 83 156 30 9 27 98 33 70 .302 .344 .547 .892 134 1996 30 153 591 96 176 39 3 31 110 41 86 .298 .344 .533 .877 117 1997 31 153 595 107 193 42 4 28 122 56 96 .324 .382 .547 .929 139 1998 32 154 587 101 176 34 2 39 121 70 117 .301 .375 .565 .940 143 1999 33 121 471 77 141 31 3 24 87 34 68 .300 .347 .528 .875 122 2000 34 133 459 76 122 23 2 30 95 39 95 .266 .323 .521 .845 106 2001 35 94 344 55 100 22 1 23 67 19 52 .291 .322 .561 .883 127 2002 36 122 419 47 113 23 0 13 60 31 66 .270 .319 .418 .737 101 2003 37 106 307 33 83 17 1 9 43 27 47 .270 .327 .420 .747 94 2004 38 107 307 40 75 12 1 17 65 25 55 .244 .296 .456 .752 96 2005 39 61 170 14 39 12 0 4 29 9 41 .229 .265 .371 .636 65 Total 267510044 1527 2894 581 90 459 1798 767 1548 .288 .339 .501 .840 125
While a Hall of Fame plaque will almost certainly never hang in Parker’s honor, such a monument might very well be the centerpiece of a Hall of Object Lessons. No matter what one’s gifts of size, strength, and talent, an athlete—even in a sport as non-aerobic as baseball—simply cannot perform at anything approaching his best if he attends to no semblance of conditioning or focus.
That said, it must always also be acknowledged that Parker did, finally, come to terms with reality, grow up, and do the hard work necessary to get back into shape, and stay in shape. Small comfort though it may be to Pirates’ fans, Parker deserves real credit for that equally relevant part of his story.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1973 22 54 139 17 40 9 1 4 14 2 27 .288 .308 .453 .761 112 1974 23 73 220 27 62 10 3 4 29 10 53 .282 .322 .409 .731 108 1975 24 148 558 75 172 35 10 25 101 38 89 .308 .357 .541 .898 148 1976 25 138 537 82 168 28 10 13 90 30 80 .313 .349 .475 .824 132 1977 26 159 637 107 215 44 8 21 88 58 107 .338 .397 .531 .928 144 1978 27 148 581 102 194 32 12 30 117 57 92 .334 .394 .585 .979 166 1979 28 158 622 109 193 45 7 25 94 67 101 .310 .380 .526 .906 140 1980 29 155 612 107 196 41 9 26 100 63 99 .321 .384 .543 .927 154 1981 30 106 424 65 138 29 4 18 71 37 62 .325 .378 .541 .919 156 1982 31 159 629 99 196 44 6 30 110 60 91 .311 .371 .539 .909 149 1983 32 156 606 93 171 37 4 26 96 56 103 .282 .343 .481 .823 124 1984 33 160 629 87 184 37 3 32 118 52 97 .293 .347 .514 .861 135 1985 34 160 635 88 198 42 4 34 125 52 80 .312 .365 .551 .916 148 1986 35 162 637 89 174 31 3 31 116 56 126 .273 .330 .477 .807 117 1987 36 153 589 77 149 28 0 26 97 44 104 .253 .311 .433 .744 92 1988 37 101 377 43 97 18 1 12 55 32 70 .257 .314 .406 .720 104 1989 38 144 553 56 146 27 0 22 97 38 91 .264 .308 .432 .740 111 1990 39 157 610 71 176 30 3 21 92 41 102 .289 .330 .451 .781 118 1991 40 132 502 47 120 26 2 11 59 33 98 .239 .288 .365 .653 80 Total 262310096 1440 2989 592 89 410 1668 825 1671 .296 .349 .494 .843 130
I’m not certain if Klein deserves his Hall of Fame slot or not; I go back and forth on this one all the time.
But I am certain of this: he presents about as perplexing a career as can be imagined for analysts to attempt to judge. Not only do Klein’s peak years coincide with an extreme hitters’ park in an extreme hitters’ era, but his decline coincides with a dramatic reduction in league-wide offense, and then a trade away from the great hitters’ park as well. On top of all that, Klein suffered an unusually severe and sudden physical decline: major leg problems hit him in 1934, and never let up, and later got worse. Thus the tasks of isolating just how good Klein “really” was when at his best, and of weighing the relative worthiness of his full warts-and-all career, defy easy resolution.
In this modern age we have marvelous, sophisticated park- and league-context tools at our disposal. These are indispensable tools for such a challenge, but they aren’t perfect, and their limits are strained by such an extreme, weird case as Klein’s. So, alas, I just don’t know. I suspect most everyone can agree upon this much: if Klein’s career wasn’t of Hall of Fame quality, it was pretty close. And regardless of where one comes down on that question, this career is a fascinating one to consider just in its variety of “what might have been” dimensions.
The version of Klein we’ve conjured here does run into nagging injury issues beginning at age 29, but is able to remain a slightly diminished star for a couple of years, and a highly productive regular for a few more, and then a useful role player for several years after that. We bring the Klein airship in on a smooth glide path to a nice, soft landing, instead of the actual grisly crash-and-burn.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1928 23 64 253 41 91 14 4 11 34 14 22 .360 .396 .577 .973 148 1929 24 149 616 126 219 45 6 43 145 54 61 .356 .407 .657 1.064 152 1930 25 156 648 158 250 59 8 40 170 54 50 .386 .436 .687 1.123 159 1931 26 148 594 121 200 34 10 31 121 59 49 .337 .398 .584 .982 153 1932 27 154 650 152 226 50 15 38 137 60 49 .348 .404 .646 1.050 164 1933 28 152 606 101 223 44 7 28 120 56 36 .368 .422 .602 1.024 175 1934 29 132 526 102 175 36 4 32 113 51 50 .333 .391 .597 .988 162 1935 30 138 541 115 189 37 6 31 122 48 46 .348 .401 .607 1.008 166 1936 31 147 598 112 192 35 9 28 113 54 54 .321 .358 .548 .906 133 1937 32 135 528 113 179 35 9 27 97 50 35 .339 .386 .588 .974 153 1938 33 141 532 77 168 33 5 18 91 47 33 .316 .371 .496 .868 140 1939 34 113 376 62 111 23 4 16 68 42 30 .294 .357 .500 .857 130 1940 35 118 394 55 102 15 3 14 55 43 36 .259 .331 .419 .750 109 1941 36 98 337 54 97 18 4 13 54 30 33 .286 .344 .475 .819 133 1942 37 65 210 37 67 10 1 8 29 20 12 .317 .375 .481 .856 155 1943 38 71 239 27 58 11 1 4 32 19 17 .241 .297 .345 .642 88 1944 39 60 181 20 39 8 1 4 19 22 16 .216 .301 .330 .631 80 Total 2038 7828 1471 2584 505 95 384 1517 720 627 .330 .386 .566 .952 145
Still to Come
We can perform this fun little exercise on a whole long list of careers; I’ve already got several in mind. But that’s why we’re calling this “Volume I” today. We’ll open up further volumes in due course.
However, in the immediate future, we can do the same thing with the careers of quite a few pitchers. Therefore, next time’s topic will be “Filling the Saberhagen Gaps: Volume I”.
References & Resources
The Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract, by Bill James (New York: Villard Books, 1986), page 509.
The New Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract, by Bill James (New York: The Free Press, 2001), page 210.
Methodology
On my first pass at this, I employed a rather strict, formal structure for adjusting these players’ stats, very similar to the one I developed here to fill in the missing seasons for players who served in the military during World War II. While I found that this methodology produced very satisfactory total results, the specific year-by-year stat lines it yielded were too perfect for this exercise: too smooth, too predictable. We went from a frustratingly inconsistent actual career to an implausibly consistent virtual career.
Everyone’s actual career includes a certain degree of year-to-year variation, and I wanted even these smoothed-out versions to reflect some of that. So instead of the strict formality, I allowed myself to be a little looser, and apply a bit of artistic license. However, I did require myself to stick to some basic rules:
– I couldn’t just make stuff up; all adjusted stats had to start with the particular player’s actual stat lines.
– In most cases, the stats from the season being adjusted were 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 could start earlier than it did, or end later than it did.
– No adjusted season could surpass the player’s actual peak season(s); the adjusted seasons act as a bridge to and from peaks, not a new peak.
I’ve endeavored 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.