Harry Heilmann

HoME 2.0, Elections of 1941 and 1946

As we enter our fifth pair of elections, there are currently eleven players receiving a vote from one of us but not the other. That’s a level we have never seen before, though it’s not necessarily a bad sign. Three patterns have emerged in terms of those players. Eric is more confident in the rankings of Negro Leaguers. Miller credits more early-day pitchers with greatness. And Eric has worked through some chronological questions, which has allowed him to vote for more early position players.

Spoiler alert – all three of these patterns persist through our 1940s elections. And while the first two seem like they’ll exist for some time, Miller intends to eliminate the third heading into the 1950s. But for now, let’s see how we voted in the 1940s.

1941 Election 2.0

The 1931 election the first time around was one of the historically oddest we’ve seen. Eric voted for nine players, Miller for four, yet only two were elected, Home Run Baker and Iron Man Joe McGinnity. Miller led his list with Pud Galvin, a guy Eric begrudgingly supported 45 elections later. And Eric voted for Jim McCormick, a player who showed up last on his ballot for four straight elections but never made it to his ballot again, or Miller’s, ever. Among players not in the HoME, version 1.0, McCormick received support twice as often as everyone else combined.

This time, we’re hoping for a different story. Let’s see what happened.

   Miller                Eric
1  Babe Ruth             Babe Ruth
2  Rogers Hornsby        Rogers Hornsby
3  Cristobal Torriente   Bullet Rogan
4  Bullet Rogan          Cristobal Torriente
5  Harry Heilmann        Alejandro Oms
6  Joe McGinnity         Louis Santop
7  Stan Coveleski        Dobie Moore
8  Vic Willis            Harry Heilmann
9  Rube Waddell          George Sisler
10 Alejandro Oms         Dazzy Vance
11 Paul Hines            Elmer Flick
12 Mordecai Brown

Our Progress

Six newbies were elected in 1941, though we were able to agree on only one from the backlog. With the elections of Babe Ruth, Rogers Hornsby, Bullet Rogan, Cristobal Torriente, Harry Heilmann, and Alejandro Oms, we’ve found 47 of the 264 who will eventually become HoMErs, a scant three more than the 44 from the HoME 1.0.

Harry Heilmann Makin’ A Jump

You might be wondering how the Tiger right field great didn’t receive a vote from Miller in the 1936 election but now appears ahead of six players who did get Miller’s vote in that election. And you’d be right to wonder. Well folks, sometimes the answer is pretty simple. Miller just made a mistake. Yes, history will show that it took Heilmann two elections to gain entry into the HoME 2.0. So what.

Bullet Rogan

Bullet Rogan is the best two-way player not named Babe Ruth in baseball history. On the offensive side of the game, Rogan hit well enough for consideration as a legit HoME candidate in center field and right field (he played a lot in both). On the mound, he took it to another level. On the basis of his mound work solely, Rogan likely ranks behind only Satchel Paige and Smokey Joe Williams. But add to his pitching resume a right fielder’s bat, and, overall, he might well edge by Smokey Joe too. That puts Rogan into some rarefied air, alongside the likes of John Smoltz, Roy Halladay, and Clayton Kershaw, any of whom would rate as the anchor of most anyone’s pitching staff. Except maybe Bobby Cox’s. Offensively or defensively, you can’t pick wrong with Bullet Rogan.

Cristobal Torriente

This Cristobal Torriente guy, man, he could bring the lumber. Unlike most Cuban players, Torriente didn’t sign on with the various Cuban Stars teams that barnstormed the US each summer. He played for U.S. teams, including many years with Rube Foster’s squads. Torriente produced about as much value as Joe DiMaggio in a similarly long career, though he lacked DiMaggio’s grace afield, with numbers suggesting he played a subpar center field, to the tune of one to three runs a year. He might have eventually ended up in a corner in the majors, but regardless he could hit enough to play anywhere in the outfield.

Alejandro Oms

He’s not a flashy candidate but Alejandro Oms turned out a long career showcasing a variety of skills. A lock for fifty to sixty extra-base hits a year and a .300 average, Oms also had 200-homer power, about 12-15 a year, and walked a little more than ten percent of the time. Other players referred to Oms as el Caballero, the Gentleman, because of his decorous manner on and off the field, but surely baseballs and pitchers alike didn’t much care for all the line drives that shot from his bat.

1946 Election 2.0

When first we voted in 1946, Sherry Magee made it on his fifth ballot, while Charlie Bennett and Monte Ward got there on their tenth tries. Magee and Bennett don’t appear below because we elected them on their first and second tries, respectively. Ward doesn’t appear below because his case doesn’t look like it once did. With so many Negro League greats primarily shortstops, Ward has dropped to 32nd on both of our lists, averaging just a smidge over 90 CHEWS+/MAPES+ points.

    Miller                Eric
1   Lou Gehrig            Lou Gehrig  
2   Oscar Charleston      Oscar Charleston
3   Jud Wilson            Jud Wilson
4   Frankie Frisch        Biz Mackey
5   Goose Goslin          Frankie Frisch
6   Al Simmons            Mickey Cochrane
7   Mickey Cochrane       Turkey Stearnes
8   Turkey Stearnes       John Beckwith
9   Vic Willis            Al Simmons
10  Joe McGinnity         Goose Goslin
11  Stan Coveleski        Louis Santop 
12  Wes Ferrell           Wes Ferrell
13  Rube Waddell          Dobie Moore
14  John Beckwith         Dick Lundy
15  Paul Hines            Wally Schang
16  Mordecai Brown        George Sisler
17                        Elmer Flick
18                        Dazzy Vance
19                        Vic Willis

Oscar Charleston

The Negro Leagues boasted a constellation of star center fielders, but none shone brighter than Oscar Charleston. Called “the Black Ty Cobb” and “the Black Babe Ruth” at different moments in his career, Charleston had all the tools, and he knew precisely how to use them. He ranks as either the top or the second most productive hitter among Negro Leagues players, and we translate his performance as averaging around 60 batting runs a year above average during his 1921–1927 peak. His 1924 season was one for the ages and translates to a Ruthian or Cobbian 11.6 WAR. Charleston ran like the wind and took no prisoners on base. He was renowned for playing a shallow center field and going back on deep flies like Tris Speaker. He rates among the top five men to ever play center field, at least until Mike Trout has another amazing year.

Jud Wilson

A compact lefty with big shoulders, Jud Wilson loved hitting as much as he hated umpires and pitchers. Hitting loved him back. The lefty tore line drives all over the park, gobbling up bases with peak 50-double ability, about 15 homers a year, and a batting average well above .300. Wilson played third base for much of his career. He corralled the ball rather than picking it, and a strong arm gave him a couple extra split seconds to make the plays. Later he switched to first base. At both corners, he rates as slightly above average despite an awkward body type that was all trunk and no legs. He also grades out, surprisingly, as a very slightly better than average baserunner. And you wouldn’t want to get spiked by Jud Wilson. Ultimately, Wilson is likely the best third baseman in baseball history until the arrival of Eddie Mathews.

Turkey Stearnes

Turkey Stearnes in a nutshell:

• • Lefty hitter
  • Played for about two decades
  • Most of it in center field
  • Where he was a solidly above average defender
  • Had plus power (think 350+ homers, 550+ doubles)
  • Hit around .300
  • Came to play every day.

I’d sign on for that.

John Beckwith

You only need to know one thing about John Beckwith: His nickname was “Boom Boom” for good reason. The man had a temper, and got in trouble with the law and his teams frequently, but they called him “Boom Boom” because he hit with such authority. He didn’t walk much, didn’t run especially well, and had a hard time with defensive responsibilities at times, but the guy’s bat just didn’t stop. How does 40 doubles, ten triples, and 25 homers a year with a .300+ average grab ya? You can put up with a lot for that kind of production.

Our Progress

What an election! Eleven new players were elected to the Hall of Miller and Eric. We reached new heights with the nineteen players appearing on Eric’s ballot. Hell, aside from Eric’s 1926 submission eight years ago, there has been no ballot as large as Miller’s this time around. With eleven honorees, we also set a single-election record, topping our previous high by two. Ballot newcomers Lou Gehrig, Oscar Charleston, Jud Wilson, Frankie Frisch, Mickey Cochrane, Al Simmons, Goose Goslin, Turkey Stearns, John Beckwith, and Wes Ferrell join Vic Willis, getting in after six previous times on the ballot. That means we’re up to a robust 58, or about 22% of the 264 we’ll eventually elect, basically the same pace through ten elections that we saw last time.

Still Alive

Not surprisingly, our backlog has grown since last election. We’ve added the eleven players you see above, while losing only four from our backlog. Dizzy Dean and Bob Caruthers were hanging around for no good reason. Candy Jim Taylor was still on the list because we’re not going to lose a Negro Leaguer who’s close-ish until Eric says so. And then there’s the case of Eddie Cicotte. Eight years ago, we decided to make him ineligible for the HoME, not because he bet on baseball, but because he worked to help his team lose. Had that unforgivable offense had not happened, Cicotte would have been a HoMEr. But three things have changed since our first round of elections. Eric has adjusted the innings pitched of many players so he can view them on the same plane. Thus, there have been changes in his rankings. Obviously, we’ve added Negro Leaguers to the mix, so all lesser pitchers than Bullet Rogan, Smokey Joe Williams, and Satchel Paige have lost ground. And then there’s Miller’s rethinking of Cicotte. As he reconsidered the Cicotte ban, he decided that at a minimum he would have to eliminate his 1917 season, the best of his career, because that’s the season in which he cheated. The result of that recalculation means that we’ve both disposed of Cicotte without banning him. We probably won’t think about banning him or not moving forward.

Here’s what the current backlog looks like.

What’s Different?

We’re ten elections into the process, and we’re seeing small but significant differences emerging, spurred primarily because of inclusion of the Negro Leagues. Below, you’ll see the four players we elected the first time that we haven’t this time (with the year of their elections parenthetically), at least not yet. You’ll also see the names of the eight elected this time that hadn’t gotten in through the previous 1946 election. Finally, you see a separate list of Negro Leaguers who we’ve elected this time but were not previously eligible during these elections.

A week from now we get to the two elections of the 1950s.

All-Time HoME Leaders, Right Field – 1-20

Mr. October. It’s one of baseball’s most recognizable nicknames. Thinking ahead to this post, I was considering Reggie Jackson as one of the players MAPES+ might underrate because it doesn’t take post-season performance into account. So then I looked at Reggie’s playoff statistics. He slashed .278/.358/.527 in October compared to .262/.356/.490 in the regular season. Better? Sure. Against stiffer competition? Almost certainly. But there’s not a marked difference, at least not one that’s suggested by the nickname. If you want to call someone Mr. October, someone like Lou Brock, Paul Molitor, Curt Schilling or Bob Gibson (to name four off the top of my head), go for it. But Reggie? I don’t know.

Yes, he won two World Series MVP Awards, and I think he deserved it in 1978 too. And not we’re on to something. In 116 trips to the plate over five World Series, he slashed .357/.457/.755. In my mind “October” is equal to the playoffs. However, if we view “October” as the World Series, which is justifiable, I suppose, Reggie earned that nickname. Now about MAPES+…

Actually, you can read about MAPES, CHEWS, and all posts in this series with the links below.

[MAPES+], [CHEWS+], [1B, 1-20], [1B, 21-40], [2B, 1-20], [2B, 21-40], [3B, 1-20], [3B, 21-40], [SS, 1-20], [SS, 21-40], [C, 1-20], [C, 21-40], [LF, 1-20], [LF, 21-40], [CF, 1-20], [CF, 21-40]

Right Field – 1-20

Where do we project the active player(s) to finish in our rankings?

Ichiro Suzuki

Part of the fun of Ichiro is that he’s kind of like a thought experiment made real: What if we took a star player from roughly 1901–1930 and plopped him into the majors? Now we know! It’s Ichiro! But that’s precisely what’s happened. His game is predicated on a few things:

• Putting the ball in play
• Speed from home to first
• Excellent baserunning
• Excellent fielding
• Cutting down baserunners who take foolish chances.

In the deadball era, grounds keeping wasn’t quite as meticulous as today. Comiskey Park was famously built atop a landfill and old trash popped up through the grass sometimes. The amazing drainage technology that today’s fields have didn’t exist. Freddie Lindstrom became a World Series goat when a ball hit a pebble and bounced over his head. That combined with primitive glove technology increased the reward for simply putting the ball on the ground between the lines and dashing like mad to first base.

Ichiro is something like Harry Hooper combined with George Sisler. Which is basically what Sam Rice was. I wonder whether that kind of player would have been more or less effective in the 1970s and 1980s. Why? Astroturf. Infielders could play back to pick up grounders that might get through at normal depth, but even well-placed grounders would reach fielders faster, reducing Ichiro’s speed advantage. Turf did give speed merchants an advantage on the bases, but the players who took best advantage of turf did so by hitting balls into the gaps and running like crazy. Ichiro’s game is different than that of George Brett, Tim Raines, or Vince Coleman. Turf might also reduce the advantage accrued with Ichiro’s arm because the ball would get to him quicker on singles, reducing the likelihood of his being tested, and extra-base hits would get by him more quickly. Hard tellin’ not knowin’ as they say up here in Maine.—Eric

I projected Ichiro to retire after the 2014 season. Seriously. Over the seven years before this one, he was worth a total of 5.2 WAR. That’s not a guy who you want on your club unless you want to sell tickets or jerseys. Oh, wait, I’ve figured it out. I’m sure there’s more. I bet Ichiro is a good guy, and I suspect his English is better around teammates than reporters, which is just fine by me. As far as where he ends up, that depends on whether or not he decides to play again. He’s just done for the year, not retired. Given an infinite number of chances, he’d play his way out of the HoME. Since I think he’s seen his last game, we will only have to factor in the-0.5 WAR he accrued in 15 games this year. That drops him behind Bobby Bonds for me, and into a virtual tie with Gary Sheffield. We’ll have to see how BBREF rounding works out.—Miller

Where do our rankings diverge the most from the conventional wisdom?

I think I have Winfield and Vlad lower than mainstream folks would. They’re not even on this list. The real divergence may be ranking Clemente third rather than fifth, not that the difference between him, Ott, and Robinson is meaningful at all. The reason for my ranking is pretty clear; it’s Clemente’s consecutive peak. If I removed that factor, Eric and I would have the same top-6. This seems as good a place as any to reiterate why I like the consecutive peak factor in my formula. First, it’s how JAWS began. Though Jaffe did come up with a better conclusion, I don’t think he was completely wrong to start. There is something, not nothing to be said for consecutive greatness. A team really knows what it has. Also, it’s only 11% of my formula, which is to say Clemente, Ott, and Robinson are very close anyway. Sure, I have Clemente third. If you have him fifth, I certainly won’t argue.—Miller

Larry Walker and Harry Hooper. We’ve got Walker among the top dozen right fielders, and he’s having trouble drumming up enough Hall support to make it before his eligibility expires. Lots of people think the Hall made a mistake by electing Harry Hooper. We strongly disagree.—Eric

Where do we disagree with one another the most?

Probably Willie Keeler. Throughout this process, Miller has had Keeler ranked ahead of me. I don’t exactly know why, but over the several iterations of each of our sifting tools, Wee Willie has always managed to look worse in my eyes.—Eric

Is it Clemente? No, I wouldn’t really make an argument that he’s exactly the third best right fielder ever. I’m nearly certain he’s between third and fifth, or maybe sixth. Not exactly third. It’s not like with Aaron. I’m almost certain Aaron is exactly the second best right fielder ever. There aren’t really any major discrepancies here. Even with Keeler. We both see him as 2% above the in/out line for the position.—Miller

Are there any players who MAPES+/CHEWS+ might overrate or underrate? 

So let’s answer that question from the top of the post. Might MAPES+ underrate Reggie? I don’t think so. I call him the eighth best ever at the position. If you want to take him over Waner, I won’t put up a stink.—Miller

Well, neither of our systems take into account the verifiable, proven fact that Paul Waner shares my birthday. That’s a thing, man! But let me now posit a weird idea. Is it possible that Babe Ruth, the player, can be seen as overrated? No statistical system can capture the immensity of Babe Ruth’s contribution to baseball, of course, and we don’t talk about off-the-field stuff here very often. Still, we both had him among our top-three most influential persons in baseball history. But the thing about Babe Ruth is that he was so much better than everyone else. If you run standard deviations on any kind of runs-creation stats in his time, especially the early 1920s, he pulls everything out of whack. You have to seriously consider removing him from the test because by himself he raises the bar so high. But that begets the interesting question of whether Ruth was that good or did the league fail to catch on to his innovation? Some of both, surely, but that latter idea always makes me wonder whether Ruth is actually overrated from a certain, very narrow, point of view. The innovation is the source of his value, so in the most literal sense, it’s a non-question. And yet, it digs at me a little because it’s not entirely a question of talent and performance. There’s this little bit of friction for me about the long window of time before which the rest of MLB got its power together, and the massive advantage Ruth accrued from it. But whatever, he’s the Babe after all!—Eric

***

We round out the offense next week with the second half of right field.

1936 HoME Election Results

Ty Cobb is happy to be in the HoME.

Congratulations to our newest eight inductees: Ty Cobb, Walter Johnson, Tris Speaker, Eddie Collins, Pete Alexander, Harry Heilmann, Paul Hines, and George Wright. With their 1936 induction, our HoME is now populated with 39 of the greatest players in the game’s history.

Per our rules, players have to be named on both ballots for induction. Here’s how we voted.

      Miller              Eric
1     Ty Cobb             Walter Johnson
2     Walter Johnson      Ty Cobb
3     Tris Speaker        Tris Speaker
4     Eddie Collins       Eddie Collins
5     Pete Alexander      Pete Alexander
6     Pud Galvin          Charlie Bennett
7     Harry Heilmann      Harry Heilmann
8     Paul Hines          Paul Hines
9     Monte Ward          Elmer Flick
10    George Wright       George Wright
11                        Jimmy Collins
12                        George Sisler
13                        Vic Willis
14                        Stan Coveleski
15                        Jim McCormick

Ty Cobb was one of the greatest batsmen ever to play the game, but the long-time Tiger was known for his less-than-gentlemanly attitude almost as much as his talent. Cobb terrorized pitchers, fielders, umpires, and even teammates with equal ferocity. With the bat, he put up the highest career batting average in the game’s history at .366. He added a triple crown in 1909 and eleven additional batting titles. On the bases, he would routinely slide into a base spikes up; fielders knew he was coming and acquired evidence that he’d been there. Cobb also holds the career mark with 54 steals of home plate. And he was among the original class of Hall of Fame inductees in 1936.

Walter Johnson is one of a select few pitchers with the claim as the greatest ever. He’s second in both wins and WAR to Cy Young. The Washington Senator righty was the all-time strikeout leader from 1921, when he still had more than 20% of his career remaining, until 1983. Six wins titles, five ERA titles, three pitching triple crowns, and twelve strikeout titles. His achievements go on and on. Lest you think he was only a great pitcher, he could swing a pretty mean stick too. Johnson holds the career record for triples by a pitcher, and he has the highest single-season batting average among pitchers, hitting a scintillating .433 in 1925.

Tris Speaker played just about as shallow an outfield as anyone, and he played center field better than just about anyone. His positioning allowed him to turn unassisted double plays, catch pickoff throws at second base, and make tag plays on runners taking the turn at second base after a bunt. It makes you wonder why more players don’t cheat in. But Speaker isn’t in the HoME just because he was a brilliant defender. He also smacked the most doubles in the game’s history among his 3514 hits, and he finished his career, mainly with the Red Sox and Indians, with a .345/.428/.500 line. The Grey Eagle also got to three World Series, all wins, and hit .308 all told in the post-season.

Eddie Collins was an outstanding second baseman for Philadelphia A’s and Chicago White Sox. He topped the AL in stolen bases four times and runs three times, and his 3315 hits are more than any second baseman in history. He was outstanding in the 1910, 1913, and 1917 World Series, all wins, hitting .429, .421, and .409 respectively. Measured by WAR, he is the greatest second baseman ever to play the game other than Rogers Hornsby.

Pete Alexander won 373 games in his illustrious 20-year career spent mostly with the Phillies and Cubs. The righty led his league in strikeouts and wins six times each and added five ERA titles. He also won the pitching triple crown four times, including three straight for the 1915-1917 Phillies. During the 1916 season, he tossed a record 16 shutouts among his 33 wins. And by WAR, he’s the fourth greatest pitcher to put on a uniform. Pitching for the Cardinals at age 39, he had some of his finest moments during the 1926 World Series. As if wins in games two and six weren’t enough, he pitched in relief in game seven. After loading the bases in the seventh, Jesse Haines ceded the mound to ‘ol Pete. Haines struck out Tony Lazzeri to end the seventh and then set down five straight Yankees before walking Babe Ruth and seeing the Yankee slugger get thrown out trying to steal second as Alexander’s Cards won the World Series.

Harry Heilmann may only be the third greatest Tiger right fielder of all time, behind Sam Crawford and Kaline, but he’s still one of the game’s absolute greats. Heilmann won four batting titles, including the 1923 crown when he hit .403, and he hit at a .342 clip for his career. The man they called “Slug” was quite a slow runner, but he was quick to react when it mattered, once saving a drowning woman in the Detroit River. And a career WAR total right in the neighborhood of Reggie Jackson and Derek Jeter should say all that’s necessary about his HoME qualifications.

Paul Hines received Eric’s vote in our very first election and every one thereafter, but it took Miller until the eighth election to properly understand Hines’ greatness. Fortunately for the HoME, justice delayed is not justice denied. Hines was primarily a center fielder for ten teams from 1872-1891. At 20 seasons, he had quite a lengthy career for his era, and he won the first ever triple crown in 1878. The reason for Miller’s conversion was a better understanding of 19^th century schedules and their comparison to modern seasons. Even under-adjusting his schedule, it seems we’re looking at one of the dozen best centerfielders ever. Welcome HoME, Paul.

George Wright may have been the game’s first superstar, and he’s not fairly represented by just his National Association and National League record. Historians acknowledge him as the best player in the country during the three to five years before the organization of the NA, and we need to take that into account. As with Hines, Eric did from our first election, and Miller is doing so now. If we don’t consider the pre-NA years, we’re looking at one of the best two dozen or so shortstops. When we add those seasons, it seems clear that George Wright belongs in the HoME.

Each season, some guys are elected, while others receive votes from only one of us. Below we’ll explain our reasons for such votes

Miller:
Pud Galvin: When completing a project like this, modern player analysis is necessary. It’s critical. If we simply used milestones, Jose Canseco and his 462 home runs might have to go into the Hall. But we can’t just ignore milestones either, particularly when they come with a WAR that comes smack in between Nolan Ryan and Robin Roberts among pitchers. The players within ten wins of Galvin either way are Pete Alexander, Christy Mathewson, Kid Nichols, and Greg Maddux.

Monte Ward: It’ll be interesting to see whether I stop defending my Ward pick because Eric votes for him or because I change my mind. He’s just so close for me. For now, I just can’t turn away from such a spectacular two-way player. I know I’m stretching here – and doing so on purpose – but it’s hard to thumb my nose at a player only one win behind Sandy Koufax and more hits than Hall of Famers Arky Vaughn, Johnny Bench, and Jimmy Collins.

Eric:
Charlie Bennett: The research on catching conditions in the 19th Century supports the position that Bennett played the most physically demanding position in baseball at its most physically challenging time. He was a warrior, with excellent defense, a good bat, and wonderful durability for his position. The best pure catcher of his time.

Elmer Flick: Flick was just that good for ten years, then essentially done. That’s okay with me, ten years is a long time. One way to think of him is as Paul Waner’s best ten years and change.

Jimmy Collins: The best third baseman between Deacon White and Frank Baker, playing at another position that saw lots of attrition. As we’ve previously discussed, I believe this is a result of the aggressive style of play in his time. Spikes high! Lots of steals, triples, and bunts put third basemen into more types of contact plays than anywhere except catcher.

George Sisler: Sisler’s got a peak that doesn’t quit…until he got beaned in the head. Luckily we don’t have to ask What if… because we know exactly how great he was. At his best, he was a player of Rod Carew’s caliber, and perhaps even his style. In another way, Sisler’s career looks a lot like Ernie Banks’. Both careers are torn in half by injury. Sisler’s was more dramatic, but Banks hurt his shoulder, necessitating the change to first base. Upon moving, he became merely an average player. After his beaning, Sisler became an average player as well…which is amazing since he had issues with double vision afterward. Banks has a few more Wins of bulk value than Sisler, but they are eerily similar players in the shape of their careers. Sisler also sits in a clump of first basemen that includes Hank Greenberg, Dick Allen, and Bill Terry who are peak-oriented candidates. There’s nothing about any of them that screams one is significantly better than the other, and I can’t push Sisler down far enough in my worst case scenario to believe that he would be the one on the outside looking in.

Vic Willis: He’s a slightly less-peaky, slightly more consistent version of Joe McGinnity and Rube Waddell. His prime and career values are consonant with theirs and signal induction on their own merits based on our now-established standards.

Stan Coveleski: Coveleski is basically the fourth member of the Willis-Wadell-McGinnity triumvirate.

Jim McCormick: And he could be the fifth member of this triumvirate that became a quadumverate. All these guys are a slightly different rendition of the same pitcher—the good-peak, decent-career guy who had a relatively short tenure by number of seasons. These are the guys everyone thinks Addie Joss was. We’ll encounter more of them, for example Dazzy Vance and Johan Santana.

Please visit our Honorees page to see their plaques and to see more information about the HoME and those who have been elected.

The Dirty Little Secret About .400 Hitters

Can we talk about .400 hitters? They ain’t always what they’re cracked up to be, you know.

As with so many things baseball, they’re often the right guy at the right time, not exactly a product of context, but an exploiter of it. So with Ty Cobb and George Sisler gaining eligibility in this election—owners of five of the twenty-eight .400 seasons in history are on our ballot—let’s take a little look at the contexts faced by .400 hitters.

Stephen Jay Gould famously essayed on this very subject in “Where have all the .400 hitters gone?” Since then, many smarter minds than ours have taken up the question as well (a nice summary here). Two of the biggest reasons for our lack of .400 hitters appear to be

• continual improvement in the quality of play, reducing the variation among individual players and the likelihood of an outlying performance
• league averages in a historically normal range—it’s easier to hit .400 when league batting averages are near .300 than when they are near .270.

These two points account for other sub-arguments such as the style of play (place hitting versus power hitting) and the emergence of relief pitching (today’s players don’t face tiring starters for a fourth time during a game). But they don’t tell the whole sordid story.

See, when we look at these seasons closely, a pattern emerges.

1876 NL .265
Ross Barnes .476
The first season of the National League.

1884 UA .245
Fred Dunlap .412
The first and only season of the third-rate Union Association that was major in ambition only. It had one dominant team, you guessed it, Dunlap’s.

1887 AA .273
Tip O’Neill .435
Pete Browning .402
For 1887, MLB decreed that four called strikes were an out. It reverted to three for 1888. The AA’s batting averages from 1886 to 1888 tell the story: .243, .273, .238.

1894 NL .309
Hugh Duffy .440
Tuck Turner .418
Sam Thompson .415
Ed Delahanty .404
Billy Hamilton .403
The pitcher’s mound moved backward ten feet in 1893, and offense shot up from 5.1 runs per game in 1892 to 6.6 runs per game in 1893. In 1894, it zoomed northward again to 7.4 runs per game. The entire league’s batting average rose from .245 in 1892 to .280 in 1893 and then to .309(!) in 1894. To put this in perspective, Duffy’s record setting .440 average was 42 percent higher than the average batter. When George Brett hit .390 in 1980, his average was 47% higher than the league’s .269 average. And Duffy’s league let pitchers bat, Brett’s didn’t. Things settled a bit as the decade ground on, but it was still a pinball offense until the league contracted to eight teams following the 1899 season. Oh, and the foul-strike rule didn’t exist until the 1900s.

1895 NL .296
Jesse Burkett .405
Ed Delahanty .404

1896 NL .290
Jesse Burkett .410
Hughie Jennings .401

1897 NL .292
Willie Keeler .424

1899 NL .282
Ed Delahanty .410

1901 AL .277
Nap Lajoie .427
The AL was an expansion league in its first year with less talent concentration than the NL. Lajoie was by far its biggest star.

1911 AL .273
Ty Cobb .420
Joe Jackson .408
For 1911, the AL introduced a new cork-centered baseball. Runs rose from 3.6 to 4.6, and batting averages from .243 to .273, a similar percentage rise to the 1890s.

1912 AL .265
Ty Cobb .409
The new baseball stuck, and for one more year the hitters had their day. Until pitchers caught up by defacing and sliming balls so that they would dip and dive. Batting averages slid downward again until…

1920 AL .283
George Sisler .407
The spitter was outlawed, grubby baseballs were replaced during games, and Babe Ruth revolutionized offense. Offense exploded and the league batting average rose from .268 to .283. The 1920s were the greatest conditions for hitters between the 1890s and the 1990s.

1922 AL .285
George Sisler .420
Ty Cobb .401

1922 NL .292
Rogers Hornsby .401

1923 AL .283
Harry Heilmann .403

1924 NL .283
Rogers Hornsby .424

1925 NL .292
Rogers Hornsby .403

1930 NL .303
Bill Terry .401
1930 was the crowning touch, the capstone on the big 1920s offensive bang. Runs scored slid downward as the depression went on. Batting averages settled around .280 by mid decade then slid to the low .270s as the 1940s approached.

1941 AL .266
Ted Williams .406
By 1941, league averages slide to levels not seen in twenty years. Williams faced the third lowest league batting average among these 28 hitters and the highest quality of play. Given that combination, his .400 season (52 percent higher than his league) is the most impressive in history.

To recap, we have:

• three seasons with significant rule, equipment, or style changes that made offensive totals go nuts: 1887, 1911, 1920.
• eleven seasons that immediately followed one of those major changes and during which offense stayed nutty: 1894, 1895, 1896, 1897, 1899, 1912, 1922, 1923, 1925, 1930
• two expansion years: 1894 and 1901
• the first year in NL history: 1876
• plain-old 1941.

So the dirty secret about .400 seasons is this: with one exception, they always occur at times when the pitching-hitting balance or the overall quality of play is thrown all out of whack. Which explains a bit about Tony Gwynn’s .394 average in 1994 (a year after an expansion, during a time of crazy high run scoring), doesn’t it? And which makes the runs at .400 by Brett, Rod Carew (.388 in 1977) and Ted Williams (again! .388 in 1957) all the more impressive.

Will the .400 hitter ever make a return? You know, it’s probably bound to happen by random chance, just like Miguel Cabrera’s triple crown season. But unless we see a rule change that makes the slider illegal or lets batters swing metal bats, I wouldn’t hold my breath.

—Eric