The Phelps Hypotheticals: Part 1
Ken Phelps was something of a cause celebre for Bill James back in the 1980s. Phelps wasn’t a great player by any means, but he had significant talent, and the manner in which that talent went persistently underappreciated by major league organizations drove James to distraction: Despite utterly destroying Triple-A, Phelps was never allowed to spend an entire season on a major league roster until he was 30 years old, and was never granted a chance to play as a major league regular.
Here’s the opening of James’ essay “The Ken Phelps All-Star Team” from the 1987 Baseball Abstract:
See, on the one hand you’ve got the Henry Cottos, and on the other hand, you’ve got your Ken Phelpses. If Henry Cotto is a major league ballplayer, I’m an airplane. Cotto is one of those guys who runs well and throws pretty decent, and one year he hit .270-something (in less than 150 at-bats, in Wrigley Field, with a secondary average of .164), so you get guys like Don Zimmer who will rave about this great young prospect and keep trading for him, so he’ll get about eight chances to play in the major leagues before they figure out he can’t hit. At first when he doesn’t hit they’ll say he just needs more playing time, and then they’ll say he needs to stop wiggling his elbows while the pitcher is in motion, and then they’ll say he needs to point his lead foot and learn to keep his weight back, and then they’ll say he needs to be more aggressive at the plate, and then they’ll say he needs to go back to wiggling his elbows. They always figure that if you can run and throw they’ll teach you to hit. Of course they can’t teach anybody to hit, but they always think they can, so they keep trying.
Then on the other hand you’ve got your Ken Phelpses. Ken Phelps has been a major league ballplayer since at least 1980, when he hit .294 with 128 walks and a slugging percentage close to .600 at AAA Omaha, a tough park for a hitter. Through 1985 he had 567 at-bats in the major leagues—one season’s worth—with 40 home runs and 92 RBI. The Mariners still didn’t want to let him play. See, the problem was that Chuck Cottier, in his day, was a Henry Cotto, a guy who could run and throw, but couldn’t play baseball. Most major league managers were those kind of guys. Ken Phelps, on the other hand, can’t run particularly well (though he isn’t exceptionally slow, either) and doesn’t throw well, and if you’re that kind of player and want to play major league ball you’d better go 7-for-20 in your first week in the majors, or they’ll decide it’s time to take another look at Henry Cotto. Ken Phelps in his first two shots at major league pitching went 3-for-26. Despite his limitations, the man is a major league player. He’s a major league player because he plays good defense at first base and has a secondary average over .500, so that he can both drive in and score runs.
So just how good was Ken Phelps, really? Had his management not been so blind to his assets and so fixated on his liabilities, and placed him in a regular role soon after arriving in the majors, just what might he have accomplished?
Based upon:
– Phelps’s actual major league stats
– His minor league stats
– The issue that a distinctly platooned player such as Phelps would suffer from the platoon disadvantage more frequently were he to play more often
– The balancing issue of the confidence- and timing-enhancing benefits of regular play
The following is my best estimate of what sort of a career Phelps would have forged had he been given a reasonable opportunity as a major league starting player. The lines in blue font are those I’ve adjusted, while the line in black (Phelps’s final season, at age 35) is actual.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1980 25 48 6 11 2 0 2 6 11 12 .229 .371 .396 .767 110 1981 26 220 18 49 13 6 8 38 24 73 .225 .302 .435 .737 112 1982 27 461 90 130 18 3 35 113 92 117 .283 .402 .560 .962 158 1983 28 524 77 129 28 6 30 89 67 94 .246 .331 .492 .823 120 1984 29 474 80 114 16 1 35 84 96 118 .240 .367 .498 .866 139 1985 30 301 51 67 10 1 23 59 66 83 .223 .362 .490 .852 131 1986 31 468 92 114 20 4 34 90 116 128 .244 .394 .522 .916 146 1987 32 460 93 119 19 2 37 92 112 106 .258 .403 .545 .948 144 1988 33 464 82 118 19 1 35 82 105 101 .254 .392 .524 .916 153 1989 34 287 41 69 7 0 13 45 51 69 .241 .355 .406 .761 116 1990 35 120 10 18 2 0 1 6 22 21 .150 .280 .192 .472 36 Career 3827 640 938 154 23 251 702 760 922 .245 .370 .494 .865 134
He wouldn’t have been a major star, but we see a player at least within the lesser realm of stardom, a highly effective run producer for a period of several years. Instead of a major league career amounting to 1,854 at-bats, 123 homers and 313 RBIs, as Phelps actually contributed, we see a far more substantial imprint.
In his essay, James went on to name a long list of players, at all positions, who at some point in their careers had been underutilized or otherwise unnecessarily held back. He contended that, while rarely as blatantly as in the case of Phelps, examples abound of players capable of being productive regulars, perhaps even minor stars, but who instead became stuck in circumstances that left them in the minor leagues and/or in big league backup roles. Whether one agrees with James’ particular assessment or not, clearly it’s the case that history is full of careers that might, with a different break or two early on, have taken a much different, more fully elaborated shape than they actually did.
In this first installment of an occasionally recurring series, we’ll consider other Ken Phelps-like situations that have occurred over the years. We’ll take a career that was largely or entirely spent in a secondary role, and do our best to project what kind of performance that player would likely have presented had he been given a better shot as a regular. For our methodology, please see the References and Resources section below.
The Pre-Phelps Phelps
His case wasn’t quite as extreme as that of Phelps, but Mincher had a remarkably similar skill profile, and he spent the first several years of his major league career stuck behind distinctly inferior players.
Washington had traded for Mincher at the beginning of the 1960 season, surrendering incumbent first baseman Roy Sievers in the exchange. This left the first base spot wide open; Mincher’s competitor for the starting role was 27-year-old defensive specialist Julio Becquer, who in 309 major league games sported a career OPS+ of 64. So even though Mincher was just 22, and had no experience as high as Triple-A, it was sensible for the Senators to give him a crack at the first base job.
They did, starting Mincher every day at first base over the first few weeks of the 1960 season. The raw rookie didn’t set the world on fire, but he wasn’t doing too badly; through 20 games he was hitting .236 in 72 at-bats, with four doubles, a triple, two homers and 11 walks. Nonetheless the Senators decided this wasn’t good enough: Mincher was abruptly benched and then sent to the minors.
Becquer was given the starting job, but he didn’t hit (gee, really?), and then Harmon Killebrew was moved over from third base to first, and light-hitting utility infielder Reno Bertoia was deployed as the regular third baseman. Meanwhile Mincher, despite hitting over .300 with power in Triple-A, wasn’t brought back up until late September, and then only for five pinch-hitting appearances.
For 1961, the Senators relocated to Minnesota, and renamed themselves the Twins. Mincher was given a fresh start as well, as the first-string first baseman in the season’s early weeks. The 23-year-old showed excellent power and remarkable strike zone judgment, with five homers and 22 walks (against just 11 strikeouts) in 101 at-bats. But his batting average was poor, and at the end of May the team again sent Mincher back to Triple-A.
Once again Killebrew was transferred from third to first, and in one of the truly most bizarre decisions in major league history, the Twins traded for a 31-year-old veteran light-hitting defensive specialist center fielder, Bill Tuttle, and undertook a mid-season conversion of Tuttle into a third baseman. Mincher blasted 24 homers in 370 Triple-A at-bats, but wasn’t even given a September call-up. The Twins finished at 70-90.
Not satisfied that they’d done everything possible to mishandle the situation, the Twins then traded their second-best pitcher, 27-year-old workhorse Pedro Ramos, to Cleveland for 34-year-old first baseman Vic Power. The veteran Power was a defensive wizard, but had never really swung a first baseman’s bat, and was coming off one of his least productive offensive seasons. With the Twins in 1962–63, Power’s hitting was consistently among the worst of any first baseman in the league, but he was deployed as the regular ahead of Mincher.
Limited to a pinch-hitting specialist/utility role, Mincher in 1962-63 nonetheless hit remarkably well, launching 26 home runs in just 346 at-bats, a rate comparable to that of the game’s elite sluggers. Minnesota finally discarded Power in early 1964, and Mincher’s playing time gradually increased over the next few seasons, but he was never used by the Twins as a true first-stringer.
Finally the Twins traded Mincher to the Angels, and in 1967, at the age of 29, he was for the first time given more than 500 plate appearances. Mincher made the All-Star team, and finished among the league’s top 10 in home runs, extra-base hits, runs scored, RBI, batting average, on-base percentage, slugging, OPS, OPS+ and runs created.
Here we see a Mincher given the chance to play from the get-go, and producing a 300-homer career.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1960 22 484 52 124 30 3 11 57 48 67 .257 .325 .400 .724 96 1961 23 481 67 106 18 3 24 67 71 75 .220 .320 .414 .734 91 1962 24 492 79 123 15 2 33 96 91 98 .249 .366 .487 .853 124 1963 25 516 86 130 20 2 37 94 67 106 .252 .338 .512 .849 133 1964 26 529 83 129 22 5 39 99 60 98 .244 .321 .523 .843 130 1965 27 518 67 129 27 4 32 94 69 102 .249 .337 .500 .837 131 1966 28 502 63 127 33 1 18 74 68 80 .252 .342 .429 .770 115 1967 29 487 81 133 23 3 25 76 69 69 .273 .367 .487 .854 155 1968 30 399 35 94 12 1 13 48 43 65 .236 .312 .368 .680 110 1969 31 427 53 105 14 0 25 78 78 69 .246 .366 .454 .820 131 1970 32 463 62 114 18 0 27 74 56 71 .246 .327 .460 .787 119 1971 33 415 44 116 21 2 12 53 73 66 .280 .386 .427 .813 136 1972 34 245 25 53 11 0 6 44 56 39 .216 .363 .335 .698 113 Career 5958 798 1482 262 25 301 954 848 1005 .249 .342 .453 .795 126
Buried in the Bronx
In 61*, Billy Crystal’s generally excellent movie about the Maris/Mantle 1961 Yankees, the Bob Cerv character is used more or less for comic relief, as Maris’ fellow cornball sidekick, a role player in every conceivable sense of the term. That bit works for the movie, but if modern fans otherwise unfamiliar with Cerv conclude that he wasn’t much of a ballplayer, they’re sadly misinformed.
Cerv was in fact a terrific athlete. A baseball and basketball star at the University of Nebraska, he was signed by the Yankees’ organization after graduating with a Bachelor of Science in Education. (Cerv didn’t graduate college until the age of 24; I don’t know why but I strongly suspect he had spent a couple of years in military service after high school during World War II.) The Yankees immediately assigned Cerv to Triple-A; he would never play a professional inning below that level.
He was big, strong and fast, and he could really hit. In 1950-53 in the American Association, Cerv hit .304, .344, .297 and .317, with excellent home run power and a phenomenal production of triples: In 1950-51, in 774 Triple-A at-bats, Cerv legged out 34 three-baggers. But the Yankees in those years were overloaded with talent in the outfield, and Cerv got no more than cups of coffee at the big league level through 1953.
In 1954-56, he finally made the major league roster, but was used only in a very limited backup role, despite hitting extremely well. Finally in 1957, at the age of 31, Cerv was acquired by the Athletics and got his first chance at semi-regular big league play. He was only so-so that year, but in ’58 he broke through with a spectacular season: sixth in the league in batting average and triples; fifth in runs scored; fourth in home runs, RBIs, OPS, OPS+ and runs created; third in extra-base hits; and second in total bases and slugging. He was an All-Star, and finished fourth in the league’s MVP voting.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1950 24 35 4 9 1 1 1 4 0 8 .257 .267 .428 .695 78 1951 25 241 38 68 10 8 11 45 21 51 .283 .341 .520 .861 134 1952 26 306 42 76 13 7 10 46 29 53 .249 .315 .433 .748 112 1953 27 460 63 122 18 5 17 73 39 75 .266 .324 .437 .760 106 1954 28 476 67 127 25 3 23 70 49 82 .268 .336 .475 .811 124 1955 29 508 82 154 22 8 20 101 43 91 .303 .357 .498 .855 131 1956 30 537 70 153 23 12 19 93 56 82 .284 .352 .481 .833 122 1957 31 551 72 157 22 5 26 86 40 90 .285 .333 .485 .818 120 1958 32 515 93 157 20 7 38 104 50 82 .305 .371 .592 .963 159 1959 33 463 61 132 22 4 20 87 35 87 .285 .332 .479 .811 119 1960 34 294 46 74 12 2 14 40 40 53 .252 .346 .449 .795 118 1961 35 175 20 41 8 1 8 26 13 25 .234 .289 .429 .718 90 1962 36 48 3 9 1 0 2 3 4 13 .188 .264 .333 .597 64 Career 4608 661 1279 197 62 209 778 420 791 .278 .338 .483 .821 122
“The Best Pinch Hitter in the Business”
The Gator could hit. There was never any doubt about that. He also ran pretty well, or at least he did until his always-substantial weight really got out of hand.
But he was a poor defensive outfielder. And in the mid-1960s, the Detroit outfield grew increasingly crowded: Joining the great veteran Al Kaline was Willie Horton, and then Jim Northrup, and then Mickey Stanley. That made four guys worthy of regular play competing for three jobs, and Brown’s role became steadily marginalized, until he was reduced to just a pinch-hitting specialist.
Pinch-hitting is perhaps the most challenging task in the sport, and Brown struggled to perform consistently well at it. But he also enjoyed streaks of astounding success in the role, and was generally respected as the best in the game at that thankless job.
How well did Brown hit in 1968? The “Neutralize Stats” toy on baseball-reference.com allows us to easily convert his actual ’68 stat line to, say, a guy playing in the 2000 National League, with his home games at Coors Field. When we do that, and then project Brown to, say, 540 at-bats, here’s what we get: 50 doubles, 15 triples, and 45 home runs. Ninety walks, 20 strikeouts, 255 hits. A .472 batting average, a .548 on-base percentage and an .870 slugging average.
The Gator could hit.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1963 24 82 16 22 3 1 2 14 8 13 .268 .333 .402 .735 103 1964 25 426 65 116 22 6 15 54 31 53 .272 .326 .458 .784 114 1965 26 472 70 122 26 4 20 83 37 65 .259 .314 .461 .774 117 1966 27 474 74 125 18 3 20 80 46 58 .263 .329 .442 .771 118 1967 28 501 78 125 16 5 18 68 58 63 .249 .327 .406 .733 113 1968 29 505 77 139 21 6 21 71 56 56 .275 .348 .463 .811 142 1969 30 441 64 110 14 5 14 56 43 58 .250 .316 .400 .716 97 1970 31 426 63 106 12 3 14 66 52 51 .249 .330 .388 .718 97 1971 32 369 63 111 7 4 17 56 42 37 .301 .372 .484 .856 138 1972 33 365 50 87 9 1 14 47 38 42 .239 .311 .385 .695 104 1973 34 377 48 89 11 1 12 50 52 41 .236 .328 .366 .694 90 1974 35 99 7 24 2 0 4 17 10 15 .242 .312 .384 .696 97 1975 36 35 1 6 2 0 1 3 9 6 .171 .356 .314 .670 88 Career 4572 676 1182 162 40 172 664 482 558 .258 .329 .424 .754 111
Backups to Legendary Backstops
Here are a couple of guys interesting to consider in this regard, not because they necessarily had underappreciated skills, but simply for the fact that they found themselves fulfilling roles in which “almost never play” was pretty much item number one on the job description. While not quite as challenging as the pinch-hitting specialist task, backing up a durable catcher isn’t a piece of cake either: Rarely getting into the lineup renders getting into any kind of a hitting groove nearly impossible, especially while handling the most demanding defensive responsibility of any position player.
These two fellows found themselves as cross-town contemporaries, serving as understudies to all-time greats. Just what kind of career might each have presented if he’d been on a roster that allowed him the chance to be the main guy?
Among his many other virtues, Yogi Berra was one of the most durable catchers of all time, a fact this guy could be excused for finding rather frustrating. Silvera got a small chance to play in his first full season—58 games, 149 plate appearances—but that small chance looked huge compared to the seasons that followed: Over the next eight years, he appeared in 165 games, and came to bat 388 times, total, for an average of 21 games and 49 plate appearances per season. I suspect it’s small consolation that he likely caught thousands of innings in the bullpen.
Here we take a gander at how Silvera might have done in a prominent role. He had no power at all, but he was a genuinely good on-base guy, and likely would have delivered several years of competent service as a first-string catcher.
I went to elementary school and high school with Silvera’s nephew, who was, not surprisingly, a great athlete, the star point guard and shortstop.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1948 23 84 5 29 1 1 0 8 9 4 .349 .413 .385 .798 114 1949 24 350 24 108 7 1 1 35 42 16 .309 .383 .343 .726 93 1950 25 264 21 75 8 1 2 27 26 15 .284 .347 .343 .689 79 1951 26 424 35 116 16 0 3 53 41 23 .274 .338 .333 .671 85 1952 27 444 40 127 20 1 2 68 41 23 .285 .346 .349 .695 99 1953 28 478 42 136 18 3 1 69 50 28 .284 .352 .335 .687 88 1954 29 363 20 93 9 1 0 37 48 35 .257 .343 .286 .628 76 1955 30 337 15 74 6 1 0 20 57 46 .221 .334 .243 .576 59 1956 31 125 3 28 4 0 0 7 15 14 .224 .307 .256 .563 53 1957 32 88 2 18 3 0 0 3 12 12 .205 .300 .239 .539 49 Career 2956 208 804 90 9 9 325 340 216 .272 .347 .317 .664 81
Roy Campanella wasn’t as durable as Berra, so Walker saw more in-game action with the Dodgers than Silvera did with the Yankees, but still he didn’t play very much. His offensive profile was the mirror image of Silvera’s: Walker had some pop in his bat, but was very poor at getting on base, either with singles or walks. He was, to be candid, really not a good enough hitter to have justified much regular play.
Walker became a pitching coach, and in that role with the Mets of the late 1960s and early 1970s he played a significant part in the development of Tom Seaver, Jerry Koosman, Tug McGraw and Nolan Ryan.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1948 22 257 23 68 10 1 7 37 29 26 .265 .338 .383 .721 98 1949 23 343 27 85 11 1 8 41 28 40 .248 .305 .357 .663 79 1950 24 411 34 96 14 2 10 36 33 60 .235 .292 .350 .642 69 1951 25 403 32 97 18 1 8 37 34 59 .241 .300 .348 .648 72 1952 26 394 26 99 22 0 7 45 28 50 .250 .300 .355 .655 80 1953 27 391 24 93 23 0 9 46 32 46 .238 .295 .366 .661 70 1954 28 353 23 77 18 0 10 45 36 39 .218 .290 .354 .645 66 1955 29 305 18 69 14 1 7 41 23 34 .225 .279 .343 .622 62 1956 30 252 12 54 11 1 5 34 14 34 .214 .256 .321 .577 50 1957 31 166 12 30 8 0 2 23 15 33 .181 .249 .265 .514 32 1958 32 44 3 5 2 0 1 7 5 10 .114 .200 .227 .427 12 Career 3319 233 773 150 6 73 391 277 431 .233 .292 .347 .639 69
Caddy to Stan the Man
The Cardinals of the 1950s made a series of odd decisions regarding talent deployment, and their handling of this guy is Exhibit A.
In 1954, Cunningham stepped in mid-season and won the starting first base job, hitting well at age 22 despite just 66 games of Triple-A experience. Nevertheless, the Cards couldn’t figure out anything better to do with Cunningham in 1955 except send him back to the minors, and leave him there for two full seasons.
Finally in 1957 they brought Cunningham back up. However, one of the primary modes in which manager Fred Hutchinson deployed him was as the late-inning replacement for veteran superstar Stan Musial. In 1957, Cunningham entered 27 games as a pinch-runner and/or defensive replacement, and started only 64 times. In this limited opportunity, Cunningham delivered the second-best batting average on the team (behind only Musial), the best on-base percentage (obviously ahead of Musial), and the fourth-best slugging average.
This outstanding offensive performance wasn’t enough to convince Hutchinson to significantly enhance Cunningham’s role for 1958, as again he was extensively used as Musial’s caddy. Despite producing the best OPS on the team, it wasn’t until September of 1958 that Cunningham was put into the starting lineup as frequently as 80% of the time.
In 1959, for the first time the Cardinals gave Cunningham enough plate appearances to qualify for the league leaders (though he was never made a true full-time regular), and he led the league in OBP, was second in batting average and walks, finished sixth in OPS and OPS+, made the All-Star team and was 13th in MVP votes.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1954 22 310 40 88 11 3 11 50 43 40 .284 .375 .445 .820 113 1955 23 417 59 101 15 3 8 55 64 60 .241 .342 .350 .693 85 1956 24 463 67 125 22 8 8 58 81 60 .270 .378 .402 .781 111 1957 25 513 89 157 28 2 14 85 101 57 .305 .419 .448 .868 133 1958 26 556 95 169 32 5 16 85 121 47 .304 .428 .465 .893 133 1959 27 542 78 183 32 7 9 71 103 56 .337 .443 .469 .911 138 1960 28 526 73 148 30 3 7 43 65 63 .281 .360 .388 .748 99 1961 29 490 86 141 20 3 10 62 83 50 .288 .391 .404 .795 104 1962 30 526 91 155 32 7 8 70 101 59 .295 .410 .428 .838 127 1963 31 210 32 60 12 1 1 31 33 23 .286 .388 .367 .755 116 1964 32 234 28 54 11 0 0 17 37 28 .231 .348 .278 .626 78 1965 33 201 29 46 9 1 3 20 46 27 .229 .375 .328 .703 103 1966 34 8 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 .125 .125 .125 .250 -27 Career 4996 768 1426 253 42 95 647 878 570 .285 .392 .410 .802 115
Sweet-Swinging Oscar
Gamble was a very talented player. Perhaps he was a bit too talented, to the degree that his athletic gifts prompted him to be rushed to the major leagues before he was really ready. As a result, Gamble’s progress stalled, and after being hailed as a coming star in 1970 he’d been demoted to a strict backup role by 1972.
Thus when Gamble broke through as a standout hitter in 1973, even though he was only 23 it was his fifth season in the majors, and he’d already gained the label of part-time/platoon player, not worthy of regular status. No matter how well Gamble subsequently hit—and he always hit well, and sometimes hit exceptionally well—no team ever decided, the hell with it, let’s see what this guy could do with 500 at-bats.
Our version here gets 500 at-bats a few times, and he delivers seven seasons of more than 20 homers, and even a 100-ribbie campaign.
Year Age AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS OPS+ 1969 19 71 6 16 1 1 1 5 10 12 .225 .321 .310 .631 69 1970 20 275 31 72 12 4 1 19 27 37 .262 .330 .345 .675 84 1971 21 280 24 62 11 1 6 23 21 35 .221 .275 .332 .607 72 1972 22 320 42 79 11 4 8 33 39 35 .248 .329 .377 .706 98 1973 23 494 71 131 15 4 22 56 47 49 .266 .329 .450 .779 116 1974 24 531 86 152 19 5 23 68 57 59 .287 .356 .468 .824 137 1975 25 501 81 129 21 4 23 66 68 55 .258 .347 .451 .798 125 1976 26 408 52 95 16 2 18 64 48 46 .233 .313 .410 .723 112 1977 27 547 92 156 27 3 36 103 71 70 .286 .368 .542 .910 145 1978 28 511 63 135 20 4 11 65 68 61 .264 .351 .384 .735 113 1979 29 427 73 140 17 2 26 93 71 45 .329 .425 .563 .987 167 1980 30 379 67 103 17 3 23 75 55 43 .271 .364 .512 .875 140 1981 31 263 34 65 12 1 12 37 45 32 .246 .357 .434 .791 129 1982 32 406 63 111 25 3 22 69 69 58 .273 .379 .509 .887 144 1983 33 243 35 59 11 2 12 40 38 32 .241 .343 .452 .794 121 1984 34 199 27 38 5 0 12 37 42 29 .191 .332 .394 .726 104 1985 35 148 20 30 5 0 4 20 34 22 .203 .353 .318 .671 83 Career 6001 866 1574 244 42 258 873 810 720 .262 .350 .446 .796 123
References & Resources
Methodology
Conceptually, the approach here is very similar to that employed in the Mickey Vernon Gaps. I allowed myself more than a little 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, either major league or, as appropriate, minor league.
– 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.
I’ve endeavored to create a new version of each player’s career that’s a plausible representation of his maximized major league career.
Feel free to e-mail me with any questions about the precise formulae used for any particular player.
The Bill James Baseball Abstract 1987, New York: Ballantine, 1987, page 233.