War Begone
One of the most vexing issues in assessing the career value of players whose careers were interrupted by World War II is just how to deal with the missing seasons. Okay, it isn’t the most vexing issue; that territory would be reserved for such heavyweights as our profound sorrow over the unimaginable suffering, loss, and waste the terrible events of those years visited upon humanity. But the career-value thing is one of the most vexing baseball issues, inevitably encountered when assessing the Hall of Fame worthiness, or simply the who-was-better-than-who evaluation, of 1940s-era players.
There are, essentially, two schools of thought on what to do about the seasons lost to WWII:
The Just-the-Facts School: Seasons not played are seasons not played, regardless of the reason. We don’t pretend time lost to injuries didn’t occur, so why pretend time lost to military service didn’t occur? It’s impossible to know “what might have happened;” all we can work with is “what did happen.” Every player’s career record is what it is, and that’s what we use to assess career value.
The Bleeding Heart School: Playing time lost to defending one’s country (in the worst cataclysm in human history, especially) is not the same thing as time playing time lost for any other reason. We don’t pretend time lost to injuries didn’t occur, because injuries are effectively a part of the game: injury-proneness is an essential attribute of every player at all times. While it is impossible to know precisely “what might have happened,” the actual records of players pre- and post-WWII provide us with ample information to make very reasonable estimations. We should use every player’s career record, and our prudent judgment, to assess career value of WWII-impacted players.
While there is obvious logic in the Joe Friday approach, I’m much more of a Bleeding Heart in this debate. Military service is a special case, particularly under the extraordinary circumstances of World War II. It is appropriate to hold injuries “against” a player’s accomplishment in a way that it isn’t appropriate to hold wartime absence “against” it, just as it isn’t appropriate to hold racial exclusion “against” the career value of pre-integration players of color.
What being a Bleeding Heart advocate does, however, is demand some money-where-the-mouth-is activity. Okay, smart guy: do “the actual records of players pre- and post-WWII” really “provide us with ample information to make very reasonable estimations?”
Presented here is a simple approach (what other kind did you expect?) to making such estimations. Conceptually, it’s the same logic applied by those who project the estimated performance of current-day players going forward: you take the closest three years of actual data, and weight the most proximate season twice that of the preceding one, and that one in turn twice the weight of the third. See the “References and Resources” section at the bottom for the methodological details.
The Balata Ball Impact
With specific regard to WWII, missing players aren’t the only way in which the war impacted professional baseball. Raw material shortages necessitated use of the inferior-quality “balata ball” from 1942 through 1945 as well; this lower-resiliency ball depressed offense. So players who weren’t drafted away from MLB played under semi-deadball conditions. How should we account for this in assessing the numbers that were compiled between 1942 and 1945?
There is a countervailing factor impacting the numbers: the quality of competition. A batter playing in both 1942 and 1943, for instance, faced significantly more watered-down pitching in ’43; a total of 27 major league pitchers missed the entire 1942 season due to the war, while 81 – three times as many, and more than five per team – were away in 1943. 135 pitchers missed all of 1944, and 149 missed 1945. Clearly the quality of play, moderately impacted in 1942, was significantly reduced in 1943-44-45.
Balancing the two issues together for this exercise:
– I’ve adjusted the stats of batters playing in 1942 upward, increasing 1942 offensive output to be equal to the combined average of the four closest non-balata-ball seasons: 1940, 1941, 1946, and 1947.
– But I’ve left the stats of batters actually playing in 1943, 1944, and/or 1945 unadjusted; my logic being that the depressive impact of the balata ball is counterbalanced by the help these batters received by facing minor-league-caliber pitching staffs.
A consequence of this reasoning is to acknowledge that the top offensive performances compiled by wartime stars in 1943-44-45 – notably, Bill Nicholson, George Stirnweiss, and Tommy Holmes, among others – that are typically dismissed due to the inferior quality of competition, shouldn’t be taken so lightly. I think those guys really did hit well in those years.
So let’s take a look at the careers of all the star position players whose careers were significantly interrupted by World War II. (I’m not presenting any pitchers here, not because I don’t believe the Bleeding Heart principle doesn’t apply to them, but because projecting the performance of pitchers is a much more problematic challenge than that of batters, for several reasons. Perhaps we’ll tackle pitchers at a future date.) As in our previous such exercises, seasons of actual stats are presented in black, while adjusted/projected stats are presented in blue.
Twin Bay Area Stars
First let’s consider a pair of San Francisco Bay Area-product center fielders, quite comparable in just about every way. Both went on to play several additional years in the Pacific Coast League in the 1950s. Neither is remembered much today, but both were very fine players who sacrificed the heart of their careers to the war. This projection likely underestimates both of them a bit, since it doesn’t explicitly factor in age; each may well have been capable of a 30-homer season.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 23 137 519 97 157 27 7 24 89 54 71 .303 .368 .520 .888 1941 24 146 546 90 155 40 6 14 83 80 45 .284 .375 .456 .831 1942 25 132 460 84 146 24 7 24 88 78 45 .317 .416 .553 .970 1943 26 137 492 85 148 28 6 20 85 76 48 .301 .395 .509 .904 1944 27 139 501 76 143 26 5 19 79 67 54 .285 .370 .474 .844 1945 28 141 501 63 134 23 4 17 72 63 55 .268 .350 .434 .784 1946 29 142 511 60 134 23 4 15 72 60 54 .262 .340 .411 .751 1947 30 144 500 58 129 24 3 18 64 60 62 .258 .338 .426 .764 1948 31 79 218 36 56 13 3 2 29 56 23 .257 .409 .372 .780
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 24 134 508 88 140 26 3 23 75 46 *96 .276 .336 .474 .810 1941 25 143 552 97 178 29 9 25 106 47 49 .322 .376 .543 .919 1942 26 140 532 91 161 27 7 23 91 47 64 .303 .359 .510 .869 1943 27 142 543 92 166 27 7 24 94 48 60 .305 .361 .514 .875 1944 28 146 547 81 147 22 6 20 76 55 64 .270 .336 .440 .776 1945 29 144 532 76 137 20 5 17 72 57 65 .258 .330 .413 .743 1946 30 146 545 77 142 22 5 20 67 54 66 .261 .327 .429 .757 1947 31 149 551 84 139 18 5 14 83 65 70 .252 .331 .379 .710 1948 32 123 445 58 115 18 6 13 70 55 50 .258 .340 .413 .753
Two Big Apple Hall of Fame Shortstops
Speaking of matched pairs, how about these two: the name of one is practically never heard without at least a mention of the other. This exercise doesn’t really change anything in terms of their comparison: each lost three mid-twenties seasons to the war. Just looking at their careers side by side, however, does amplify what is I think the general consensus regarding the two: Reese was such a much better offensive player, that unless you give Rizzuto a huge advantage on defense, Reese comes out comfortably ahead. I think Reese’s Hall of Fame berth is deserving; Rizzuto I’m not really sold on.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1941 23 133 515 65 158 20 9 3 46 27 36 .307 .341 .398 .739 1942 24 144 556 85 160 26 8 6 73 47 44 .288 .343 .392 .735 1943 25 139 535 75 156 23 8 4 61 39 41 .292 .340 .389 .729 1944 26 137 515 69 144 21 6 4 54 41 38 .279 .333 .364 .696 1945 27 135 499 63 132 20 4 3 48 43 36 .264 .323 .335 .658 1946 28 126 471 53 121 17 1 2 38 34 39 .257 .307 .310 .617 1947 29 153 549 78 150 26 9 2 60 57 31 .273 .342 .364 .706 1948 30 128 464 65 117 13 2 6 50 60 24 .252 .338 .328 .665
My late father-in-law, Bill Kolb, was a very good ballplayer: he played third base on the Alameda (Calif.) Naval Air Station team during World War II, and his teammates there included a number of former and future major leaguers. After the war he played semi-pro ball in Oakland for several years, coached by longtime Pacific Coast League star Les Scarsella.
Bill was born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, the hometown of Harold “Pee Wee” Reese. Bill was a few years younger than Reese, and didn’t know him directly, but he knew guys in the Louisville ballplaying community who did know Reese, and it’s clear from my many long discussions with him that Reese was a hugely popular, remarkably respected figure in Louisville. Reese’s impression on my father-in-law was such that once Reese was acquired by the Brooklyn Dodgers and reached the majors with them, Bill changed his fan allegiance from the Cincinnati Reds (Louisville’s neighbor; Bill regaled me with stories of attending games at Crosley Field) to the Dodgers.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 21 84 312 58 85 8 4 5 28 45 42 .272 .364 .372 .736 1941 22 152 595 76 136 23 5 2 46 68 56 .229 .308 .294 .602 1942 23 151 567 93 147 26 6 4 57 87 61 .259 .357 .346 .704 1943 24 151 573 88 145 23 6 4 54 81 61 .253 .345 .335 .680 1944 25 150 550 86 147 22 7 6 59 86 65 .266 .365 .362 .728 1945 26 149 527 82 148 20 8 7 65 91 69 .281 .387 .389 .777 1946 27 152 542 79 154 16 10 5 60 87 71 .284 .383 .378 .761 1947 28 142 476 81 135 24 4 12 73 *104 67 .284 .412 .426 .839 1948 29 151 566 96 155 31 4 9 75 79 63 .274 .363 .390 .753
Two Power-Hitting Second Basemen
Joe Gordon (Version 1)
We seem to be on a roll with matched pairs, so how about one more: Gordon and Doerr. There are two versions of Gordon here are as a means of dealing with his terrible 1946 season. If we include it in the projection formula (Version 1), Gordon’s career sags in ’43-’44-’45 before the dreadful ’46, and then the stirring comeback of 1947-48.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 25 155 616 112 173 32 10 30 103 52 57 .281 .337 .511 .848 1941 26 156 588 104 162 26 7 24 87 72 80 .276 .355 .466 .821 1942 27 147 541 94 176 31 4 25 110 84 *105 .326 .416 .540 .956 1943 28 152 543 82 135 28 5 17 69 98 75 .249 .363 .413 .776 1944 29 146 523 79 136 26 4 19 75 85 77 .260 .363 .434 .797 1945 30 129 451 58 110 20 2 17 67 62 71 .244 .336 .411 .747 1946 31 112 376 35 79 15 0 11 47 49 72 .210 .301 .338 .639 1947 32 155 562 89 153 27 6 29 93 62 49 .272 .345 .496 .841 1948 33 144 550 96 154 21 4 32 124 77 68 .280 .368 .507 .876
Joe Gordon (Version 2)
In Version 2, we exclude the 1946 stats from the projection, and Gordon’s career appears more stable: the slight off-year of ’43, but back to normal in ’44 and ’45 before the nightmarish 1946.
Which version to choose is a function of what one makes of what happened to Gordon in 1946. While he spent no time on the Disabled List, and I’ve never read about a specific injury problem, it still seems quite apparent that he was dealing with some kind of nagging injury or illness, or personal problem. I’m very confident that Version 2 is a more accurate estimation of how Gordon would have performed in 1944 and 1945.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 25 155 616 112 173 32 10 30 103 52 57 .281 .337 .511 .848 1941 26 156 588 104 162 26 7 24 87 72 80 .276 .355 .466 .821 1942 27 147 541 94 176 31 4 25 110 84 *105 .326 .416 .540 .956 1943 28 152 543 82 135 28 5 17 69 98 75 .249 .363 .413 .776 1944 29 151 549 87 147 28 5 21 84 87 75 .267 .368 .454 .821 1945 30 152 555 90 152 26 5 28 97 72 61 .274 .358 .490 .848 1946 31 112 376 35 79 15 0 11 47 49 72 .210 .301 .338 .639 1947 32 155 562 89 153 27 6 29 93 62 49 .272 .345 .496 .841 1948 33 144 550 96 154 21 4 32 124 77 68 .280 .368 .507 .876
So how about the Gordon-Doerr comparison, then? You’ve got very significant park factor issues to contend with here: Fenway helped Doerr as much as Yankee Stadium hurt Gordon. Plus, while Doerr was considered a very good defensive second baseman, Gordon’s reputation as a fielder was exceptional: he was routinely referred to as “acrobatic.” On the other hand, whatever caused it, Gordon’s 1946 happened, and Doerr had no such mid-career disaster.
All things considered, I have a very hard time seeing either one as a significantly better player than the other. I’m not certain that either one belongs in the Hall of Fame, but I am certain that the current status of Doerr in and Gordon out is just not right. Either both of these guys should be in Cooperstown, or neither.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 22 151 595 87 173 37 10 22 105 57 53 .291 .353 .497 .850 1941 23 132 500 74 141 28 4 16 93 43 43 .282 .339 .450 .789 1942 24 144 548 76 161 38 6 21 109 71 61 .294 .375 .498 .873 1943 25 155 604 78 163 32 3 16 75 62 59 .270 .338 .412 .750 1944 26 125 468 95 152 30 10 15 81 58 31 .325 .399 .528 .927 1945 27 142 543 89 155 30 8 18 96 64 51 .285 .360 .468 .828 1946 28 151 583 95 158 34 9 18 116 66 67 .271 .345 .453 .798 1947 29 146 561 79 145 23 10 17 95 59 47 .258 .329 .426 .755 1948 30 140 527 94 150 23 6 27 111 83 49 .285 .382 .505 .887
A Couple of Yankee Sluggers
This guy had one of the weirder careers you’ll ever see. A consistently unspectacular .270-ish good-power guy through the age of 33, he suddenly busts out a career high in triples at 34, and then tops it with a Musial-like career-best season at age 35. Then, in 1950, his career about to end due to knee trouble at age 37, he scampers to 8 triples in 151 at-bats. Just what was that all about?
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 27 90 293 57 90 28 5 10 53 48 30 .307 .405 .539 .944 1941 28 144 538 106 149 27 5 31 85 81 40 .277 .372 .519 .890 1942 29 127 485 83 131 32 6 18 72 61 46 .271 .353 .473 .826 1943 30 131 492 88 134 30 5 21 75 68 45 .273 .361 .485 .846 1944 31 137 518 95 141 30 7 20 81 73 50 .273 .362 .471 .834 1945 32 146 557 99 149 30 7 19 88 80 58 .267 .359 .446 .805 1946 33 150 565 92 142 25 4 19 83 87 63 .251 .351 .411 .762 1947 34 142 550 109 158 35 *13 16 98 71 54 .287 .369 .485 .854 1948 35 146 588 *138 181 42 *14 25 100 76 42 .308 .387 .554 .941
Keller’s career wasn’t impacted by the war (he missed only a season and two-thirds) nearly as much as it was by the severe back trouble that bedeviled him beginning at age 30. A healthy Keller into his mid-thirties easily surpasses 300 career homers, war or no war. Henrich seems to be the better-remembered of the two, but Keller was a far better player.
Best line ever about Keller, who was a very hairy guy with massively strong wrists, arms, and shoulders (developed by working on a dairy farm from the time he was a small child): Lefty Gomez cracked, “He wasn’t scouted. He was trapped.”
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 23 138 500 102 143 18 15 21 93 *106 65 .286 .411 .508 .919 1941 24 140 507 102 151 24 10 33 122 102 65 .298 .415 .580 .995 1942 25 152 547 114 162 26 10 37 116 121 67 .296 .424 .580 1.004 1943 26 141 512 97 139 15 11 31 86 106 60 .271 .396 .525 .922 1944 27 138 502 93 143 21 10 31 98 104 69 .284 .407 .552 .959 1945 28 146 537 89 158 25 12 32 109 105 77 .294 .409 .566 .975 1946 29 150 538 98 148 29 10 30 101 113 *101 .275 .401 .533 .934 1947 30 45 151 36 36 6 1 13 36 41 18 .238 .401 .550 .951 1948 31 83 247 41 66 15 2 6 44 41 25 .267 .372 .417 .789
The Tony C. of the 1940s
Like Keller, the war was the least of this guy’s problems. But unlike Keller, he did miss three full years to military service. I’ve taken liberties with the straight formula here to shape what I think is a more plausible estimate of what Reiser’s career would have looked like. Cesar Cedeno and Ross Youngs are two other names (along with Conigliaro) who come to mind in thinking about Reiser. We’re reminded that great ability is only one of the attributes that makes a Hall of Fame player; health and durability are at least as important.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 21 58 225 34 66 11 4 3 20 15 33 .293 .338 .418 .755 1941 22 137 536 *117 184 *39 *17 14 76 46 71 *.343 .406 *.558 *.964 1942 23 125 483 95 152 35 6 14 69 51 50 .314 .380 .498 .878 1943 24 129 500 103 162 37 9 14 71 49 57 .325 .385 .519 .905 1944 25 127 494 100 159 36 8 14 70 50 54 .321 .383 .512 .896 1945 26 123 458 88 141 30 6 12 67 54 53 .308 .381 .478 .858 1946 27 122 423 75 117 21 5 11 73 55 58 .277 .360 .428 .788 1947 28 110 388 68 120 23 2 5 46 68 41 .309 .412 .418 .830 1948 29 64 127 17 30 8 2 1 19 29 21 .236 .378 .354 .733
The Anti-Reiser
Never a great player, but a very good one for a very long time; remarkably durable and consistent. This exercise yields a career hit total of 2,906. His Hall of Fame status is deserved.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 24 140 516 96 158 25 13 17 73 50 35 .306 .367 .504 .871 1941 25 113 425 71 132 22 9 13 76 53 28 .311 .387 .496 .883 1942 26 152 595 107 *192 33 *19 18 105 93 33 .322 .414 .534 .948 1943 27 140 542 96 172 29 15 17 96 77 32 .317 .402 .518 .920 1944 28 146 559 97 173 29 13 16 102 72 34 .309 .388 .490 .878 1945 29 152 587 100 177 30 10 15 113 69 36 .302 .375 .467 .841 1946 30 156 609 100 183 30 8 18 *130 69 41 .300 .372 .465 .836 1947 31 147 551 100 162 31 13 10 86 59 27 .294 .362 .452 .814 1948 32 146 549 91 176 27 11 11 90 81 29 .321 .408 .470 .878
The Man
The perfect marriage of breathtaking ability with astounding health and durability. This exercise yields the following career totals: 2,070 runs, 3,839 hits, 773 doubles, 195 triples, 495 homers, 2,052 RBI, and 1,682 walks.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1941 20 12 47 8 20 4 0 1 7 2 1 .426 .449 .574 1.023 1942 21 140 470 93 150 34 11 14 77 66 28 .319 .402 .529 .931 1943 22 157 617 108 *220 *48 *20 13 81 72 18 *.357 *.425 .562 *.988 1944 23 146 568 112 *197 *51 14 12 94 90 28 .347 *.440 .549 *.990 1945 24 151 590 115 206 46 *17 16 96 79 27 .350 .426 .566 .992 1946 25 156 *624 *124 *228 *50 *20 16 103 73 31 *.365 .434 *.587 *1.021 1947 26 149 587 113 183 30 13 19 95 80 24 .312 .398 .504 .902 1948 27 155 611 *135 *230 *46 *18 39 *131 79 34 *.376 *.450 *.702 *1.152
The Big Cat and Hammerin’ Hank
The war hugely impacted his career. This exercise gives him an additional 116 home runs, for a career total of 475; there’s no way in the world he would have had to wait until 1981 to go to Cooperstown with that number. A great, great hitter. Our previous exercise in ameliorating the impact of the deader National League ball of 1931-41 showed him to be a better hitter than Greenberg in the pre-war era.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 27 155 579 111 182 31 13 *43 *137 82 49 .314 .399 *.636 *1.035 1941 28 126 473 67 150 *39 8 16 100 70 45 .317 .405 .535 .940 1942 29 142 544 104 168 27 8 37 *118 64 43 .309 .381 *.588 .970 1943 30 139 528 94 166 31 8 *31 113 69 44 .314 .393 *.577 .970 1944 31 146 550 105 174 29 6 *35 116 78 42 .316 .401 *.584 .985 1945 32 152 569 114 183 27 4 *39 117 86 40 .321 .410 *.587 *.997 1946 33 101 377 70 127 18 3 22 70 62 26 .337 .431 .576 1.006 1947 34 154 586 *137 177 26 2 *51 *138 74 42 .302 .380 .614 .995 1948 35 152 560 110 162 26 4 *40 125 94 37 .289 .391 .564 .956
Speaking of big impacts: this exercise generates an additional 161 home runs for Greenberg, yielding a career total of 492. (Would he have retired following 1947 with that amount?) Unlike Mize, Greenberg was properly recognized in his time as the awesome slugger he was.
Greenberg was one of the earliest MLB players drafted, in the spring of 1941. But he served only a short Army enlistment, and was discharged on December 5, 1941. Three days later he voluntarily re-enlisted, as an officer candidate in the Army Air Corps, and served in the Pacific theatre through mid-1945.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 29 148 573 129 195 *50 8 *41 *150 93 75 .340 .432 *.670 *1.103 1941 30 146 545 122 175 43 7 *38 *133 100 84 .322 .427 .635 1.062 1942 31 146 546 121 177 *44 7 38 135 96 82 .325 .426 .640 1.065 1943 32 142 518 104 158 37 6 36 122 91 82 .306 .409 .605 1.014 1944 33 141 499 89 144 30 4 34 114 84 81 .288 .391 .571 .963 1945 34 141 494 86 145 31 4 30 111 82 78 .294 .395 .555 .949 1946 35 142 523 91 145 29 5 *44 *127 80 88 .277 .373 .604 .977 1947 36 125 402 71 100 13 2 25 74 *104 73 .249 .403 .478 .881
The Yankee Clipper
He was always a bit fragile, and this exercise shows him to have peaked in his early twenties. But what a peak it was, and clearly he remained a tremendous all-around performer into his mid-thirties. This exercise adds 92 homers, giving him a career total of 453. While his legendary status was overblown by all his particular circumstances — showcased by playing for the Yankees, overamplified by the New York-centric media, marrying Marilyn Monroe, etc. etc. — DiMaggio was in fact an all-time great baseball player.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1940 25 132 508 93 179 28 9 31 133 61 30 *.352 .425 .626 1.051 1941 26 139 541 122 193 43 11 30 125 76 13 .357 .440 .643 1.083 1942 27 154 613 132 189 31 14 30 122 72 40 .309 .382 .551 .933 1943 28 147 577 123 187 33 *13 29 122 71 30 .323 .398 .578 .976 1944 29 142 551 107 174 29 11 28 114 67 29 .315 .389 .558 .947 1945 30 138 526 91 159 24 9 25 102 62 28 .301 .375 .525 .899 1946 31 132 503 81 146 20 8 25 95 59 24 .290 .367 .511 .878 1947 32 141 534 97 168 31 10 20 97 64 32 .315 .391 .522 .913 1948 33 153 594 110 190 26 11 *39 *155 67 30 .320 .396 .598 .994
Say Hey
Okay, it wasn’t “The Big One,” but the Korean War also impacted the careers of many players, including this spectacular young center fielder. This exercise brings his career home run total to 719 — wouldn’t that have been an interesting story: Mays would have surpassed Ruth’s 714 in 1973, before Hank Aaron did it in early 1974.
Who are the most amazing combinations in history of innate athleticism and health/consistency/work ethic? Mays is certainly high on that list; others would include Musial, Aaron, Cy Young, Honus Wagner, Walter Johnson, Tris Speaker, and Lou Gehrig. These guys, through the hearts of their long careers, simply never got hurt or had anything approaching an off-year.
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS 1951 20 121 464 64 127 22 5 20 68 56 60 .274 .356 .472 .828 1952 21 153 578 94 164 25 11 28 96 70 71 .283 .361 .507 .868 1953 22 151 571 104 176 27 11 35 103 70 65 .308 .383 .579 .962 1954 23 151 565 119 195 33 *13 41 110 66 57 *.345 .411 *.667 *1.078 1955 24 152 580 123 185 18 *13 *51 127 79 60 .319 .400 *.659 *1.059 1956 25 151 578 101 171 27 8 36 84 68 65 .296 .369 .557 .926
The Thumper
He played in an excellent hitters’ park (though, as a left-handed pull hitter, not one that gave him any home run help; he hit 52% of his career homers on the road). He didn’t hit southpaws nearly as well as he hit right-handers; he hit only 12% of his home runs off left-handers, and in a more modern era he certainly would have had many more at-bats against them than he did. And the American League in his day became only marginally integrated; he had no more than a handful of his career at-bats against anything other than whites-only pitching staffs.
But still. But still. But still. Wow. This exercise adds 188 home runs to his career total, bringing him to 709 — think he would have played one more year?
Year Age G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS
1939 20 149 565 131 185 44 11 31 *145 107 64 .327 .436 .609 1.045
1940 21 144 561 *134 193 43 14 23 113 96 54 .344 *.442 .594 1.036
1941 22 143 456 *135 185 33 3 37 120 *147 27 *.406 *.553 *.735 *1.287
1942 23 150 525 *151 189 36 6 *51 *147 *154 56 *.361 *.505 *.740 *1.245
1943 24 148 507 *145 187 36 6 *44 *135 *148 47 *.370 *.512 *.722 *1.234
1944 25 148 514 *139 184 38 7 *39 *128 *148 46 *.358 *.502 *.683 *1.185
1945 26 151 518 *137 179 38 8 *36 *122 *155 46 *.346 *.497 *.659 *1.156
1946 27 150 514 *142 176 37 8 38 123 *156 44 .342 *.497 *.667 *1.164
1947 28 156 528 *125 181 40 9 *32 *114 *162 47 *.343 *.499 *.634 *1.133
1948 29 137 509 124 188 *44 3 25 127 *126 41 *.369 *.497 *.615 *1.112
1949 30 150 566 *150 194 *39 3 *43 *159 *162 48 .343 *.490 *.650 *1.140
1950 31 89 334 82 106 24 1 28 97 82 21 .317 .452 .647 1.099
1951 32 148 531 109 169 28 4 30 126 *144 45 .318 *.464 *.556 *1.019
1952 33 138 480 *105 157 27 4 31 *119 *134 40 .327 *.473 *.596 *1.069
1953 34 137 426 94 151 26 2 37 113 *125 38 *.354 *.500 *.685 *1.185
1954 35 117 386 93 133 23 1 29 89 *136 32 .345 *.513 *.635 *1.148
1955 36 98 320 77 114 21 3 28 83 91 24 .356 .496 .703 1.199
1956 37 136 400 71 138 28 2 24 82 102 39 .345 *.479 .605 1.084
1957 38 132 420 96 163 28 1 38 87 119 43 *.388 *.526 *.731 *1.257
1958 39 129 411 81 135 23 2 26 85 98 49 *.328 *.458 .584 *1.042
1959 40 103 272 32 69 15 0 10 43 52 27 .254 .372 .419 .791
1960 41 113 310 56 98 15 0 29 72 75 41 .316 .451 .645 1.096
G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO BA OBP SLG OPS
Total 2966 10054 2409 3475 687 96 709 2429 2719 919 .346 .485 .645 1.129
References & Resources
The methodology for projecting stats for missing seasons is essentially to weight the closest actual season as twice that of the next closest, and the second as twice the third closest. In practice this means closest seasons comprise 57% of the projected season, seasons two years away comprise 29%, and seasons three years away comprise 14%.
Thus, the formula for a player who missed only the 1945 season (such as Stan Musial) is as follows: his 1944 and 1946 stats are both multiplied by 0.2857, his 1943 and 1947 stats are both multiplied by 0.14285, and his 1942 and 1948 stats are both multiplied by 0.0714285, and the resulting products are all added together.
The formula for a player who missed only the 1944 and 1945 seasons (such as Joe Gordon, Version 1):
For 1944 stats: 1943 x 0.57144, plus 1942 and 1946 x 0.14285, plus 1941 and 1947 x 0.0714285
For 1945 stats: 1946 x 0.57144, plus 1943 and 1947 x 0.14285, plus 1942 and 1948 x 0.0714285
The formula for a player who missed only the 1943, 1944, and 1945 seasons (such as Ted Williams):
For 1943 stats: 1942 x 0.57144, plus 1941 x 0.2857, plus 1940 and 1946 x 0.0714285
For 1944 stats: 1942 and 1946 x 0.2857, plus 1941 and 1947 x 0.14285, plus 1940 and 1948 x 0.0714285
For 1945 stats: 1946 x 0.57144, plus 1947 x 0.2857, plus 1942 and 1948 x 0.0714285
The actual 1942 stats of all players were adjusted by the following amounts, to bring 1942 to the combined average offensive levels of 1940 + 1941 + 1946 + 1947: Runs and RBI, 1.072; Hits, 1.019; Doubles, 1.072; Triples, 1.115; Home Runs, 1.406; Walks, 1.06; Strikeouts, 1.102. At-bats were increased equal to the number of additional hits.
The total number of pitchers missing seasons during the war was taken from the table showing all wartime absences included in Neft and Cohen’s masterpiece, The Sports Encyclopedia: Baseball. I’m not sure if the current editions of this book still include this, but editions at least through the mid-1990s did.
A lengthy interview with my late father-in-law comprises the chapter, “There Were Ballplayers Everywhere,” pages 84-91, in Hornsby Hit One Over My Head: A Fans’ Oral History of Baseball, by David Cataneo (Harcourt Brace, 1997).