This is the second article of the series beginning with “Faux Zeke Bonura”. After I discovered, quite by accident, that the statistical parameters which define Zeke Bonura exclude everybody else in baseball history (except one season of Sid Gordon), my first question was whether this was generally true, or whether it was unique to Zeke. I decided next to try Tony Oliva.
Tony Oliva will be remembered by many more of you, in part because he was more recent and in part because he was a better player. Oliva was, like Zeke Bonura, a player who had some outstanding seasons as a hitter, but who just didn’t have quite enough of them to make up a Hall of Fame career. There the similarity ends. Whereas one might legitimately ask whether Zeke Bonura would be a Hall of Famer had he sustained the same performance over a longer career, no one would ask this about Tony Oliva. Quite certainly, quite obviously, Tony Oliva would have been a Hall of Famer had he sustained the same performance over a longer career.
This “parameters analysis” may, at some point later on, become useful to us in figuring out who should and should not be in the Hall of Fame. . .who knows? It could be useful to us in many other different ways. But to get anything out of it, we first have a series of problems to be solved. Like, what years should we use to define Tony Oliva’s career?
Zeke Bonura was easy, in that he only played seven years and was essentially the same player for six of them. That’s unusual. Oliva is much more normal, in this regard. Oliva was a regular for only eleven seasons, but played in the majors for parts of fifteen seasons. In 1963 he batted only 7 times; in 1976 he hit only .211. If we defined every season within those parameters as “Faux Tony Oliva”, we would obviously wind up with hundreds if not thousands of players.
So what is a “defining season” for Tony Oliva? This is a short summary of Oliva’s career, without totals:
| YEAR |
G |
AB |
R |
H |
2B |
3B |
HR |
RBI |
SB |
Avg |
OBA |
SPct |
OPS |
| 1962 |
9 |
9 |
3 |
4 |
1 |
0 |
0 |
3 |
0 |
.444 |
.583 |
.556 |
1.139 |
| 1963 |
7 |
7 |
0 |
3 |
0 |
0 |
0 |
1 |
0 |
.429 |
.429 |
.429 |
.857 |
| 1964 |
161 |
672 |
109 |
217 |
43 |
9 |
32 |
94 |
12 |
.323 |
.359 |
.557 |
.916 |
| 1965 |
149 |
576 |
107 |
185 |
40 |
5 |
16 |
98 |
19 |
.321 |
.378 |
.491 |
.870 |
| 1966 |
159 |
622 |
99 |
191 |
32 |
7 |
25 |
87 |
13 |
.307 |
.353 |
.502 |
.854 |
| 1967 |
146 |
557 |
76 |
161 |
34 |
6 |
17 |
83 |
11 |
.289 |
.347 |
.463 |
.810 |
| 1968 |
128 |
470 |
54 |
136 |
24 |
5 |
18 |
68 |
10 |
.289 |
.357 |
.477 |
.833 |
| 1969 |
153 |
637 |
97 |
197 |
39 |
4 |
24 |
101 |
10 |
.309 |
.355 |
.496 |
.851 |
| 1970 |
157 |
628 |
96 |
204 |
36 |
7 |
23 |
107 |
5 |
.325 |
.364 |
.514 |
.878 |
| 1971 |
126 |
487 |
73 |
164 |
30 |
3 |
22 |
81 |
4 |
.337 |
.369 |
.546 |
.915 |
| 1972 |
10 |
28 |
1 |
9 |
1 |
0 |
0 |
1 |
0 |
.321 |
.367 |
.357 |
.724 |
| 1973 |
146 |
571 |
63 |
166 |
20 |
0 |
16 |
92 |
2 |
.291 |
.345 |
.410 |
.754 |
| 1974 |
127 |
459 |
43 |
131 |
16 |
2 |
13 |
57 |
0 |
.285 |
.325 |
.414 |
.739 |
| 1975 |
131 |
455 |
46 |
123 |
10 |
0 |
13 |
58 |
0 |
.270 |
.344 |
.378 |
.722 |
| 1976 |
67 |
123 |
3 |
26 |
3 |
0 |
1 |
16 |
0 |
.211 |
.234 |
.260 |
.495 |
1964 and 1965, when Oliva won the batting title both seasons, are obviously defining seasons. 1970, when Oliva hit .325 with 204 hits and 107 RBI, is obviously a defining seasons, and 1969 appears to be included in the group because it looks so much like 1970 that it’s hard to say that one of those is included and the other isn’t. In ’66 he was healthy, hit over .300, scored 99 runs and had 191 hits, so that’s basically like ’69 and ’70. The tough call is 1971. In 1971 he was entering the “knee injury” seasons that sent him prematurely to the bench, but still, he did win his third American League batting title and come within one point of a career high in OPS. Since we had six seasons for Zeke and this makes six for Oliva, we’ll leave it in.
But, digressing for just a moment. . ..it is apparent that if we are going to do this stuff we will need some sort of semi-organized way to choose among the seasons. Borrowing now from the terminology of neighborhood preservationists, it seems to me that player seasons can be sorted into five types:
Fluke seasons are seasons that are not representative of the player’s true level of talent because the player played above himself,
Defining seasons are those seasons that made the player what he was.
Contributing seasons are seasons in which the player played reasonably well, built up his career numbers, perhaps helped his team win some games, but fell short of the standards that the player’s fans no doubt hoped that he could meet,
Non-contributing seasons are seasons that the player would just as soon you forget about, and
Minor seasons are seasons in which the player only played a little bit.
Oliva has
No fluke seasons,
Six defining seasons (although if you were to argue that 1971 should be classed as
contributing, rather than defining, you wouldn’t exactly be wrong),
Three or four contributing seasons (1967, 1968, 1973 and perhaps 1974),
Two or three non-contributing seasons (1975, 1976 and perhaps 1974), and
Three minor seasons (1962, 1963 and 1972).
At some point we will have to decide whether we can use fluke seasons to help establish the player’s parameters, but for now, let’s move on. We’re going to define Tony Oliva by those six seasons—1964 to 1966, and 1969 to 1971.
In those years, Oliva had:
126 to 161 games played
487 to 672 at bats
73 to 109 runs scored
164 to 217 hits
30 to 43 doubles
3 to 9 triples
16 to 32 home runs
81 to 107 RBI
25 to 55 walks
44 to 72 strikeouts
4 to 19 stolen bases
Batting Average .307 to .337
On Base .353 to .378
Slugging Percentage .491 to .557
We now face another question: what statistical categories is it fair to use? Is it fair to use hit batsmen? Is it fair to use GIDP? Is it fair to use OPS?
My answer would be that it is fair to use any category that reasonably helps to define the image of the player. If you’re doing Jim Rice or Dick McAuliffe, it is reasonable to use GIDP, since a season in which a hitter grounds into 25 double plays can’t reasonably be a Dick McAuliffe season, and a season in which a player grounds into 5 double plays (as a regular) can’t reasonably be a Jim Rice season. If you’re doing Ron Hunt, it’s fair to use Hit Batsmen.
But generally, we should avoid using categories like those or Sac Flies, Sac Hits, Caught Stealing, etc., because they don’t form our images of the players. They can lead to “phony exclusions” of seasons that legitimately fit within the parameters that define the way we think about the player.
Also, I’m going to avoid using OPS because it’s redundant of its two components, to an extent, and I don’t want to exclude seasons unnecessarily. I want to find “Faux Tony Oliva seasons” if they are there to be found. I don’t want to exclude seasons arbitrarily or unnecessarily.
Of course, there is another side to this argument. Tony Oliva didn’t steal 30 bases in a season, but he perfectly well could have. There’s no reason that a season when a player hits .302 with 30 stolen bases couldn’t be called a Tony Oliva-type season. We could define the player not by the precise limits of what he has done, but by numbers within the reasonable range of the same player—80 strikeouts rather than 72, a .390 on-base percentage rather than .378. We could have done that. I just chose not to.
Anyway, Oliva played 126 to 161 games in each of his defining seasons. There are 11,648 seasons in major league history in which a player played 126 to 161 games—16% of all player/seasons.
Playing 126 to 161 games, however, players had as many as 705 at bats (Willie Wilson, 1980) and as few as 131 (Jerry Martin, 1976. Years later, Wilson and Martin went to prison together in the same drug bust. Life is full of coincidences, ain’t it?) So anyway, getting rid of Wilson, Martin and their co-conspirators, we now have 8,389 players—12% of all player/seasons.
Those players, however, scored as many as 192 runs (Billy Hamilton, 1894) and as few as 25 runs (Leo Cardenas, 1972. Oliva and Cardenas had once been teammates in Cuba, as teen-agers, and had been teammates in Minnesota in three of Oliva’s defining seasons.) Anyway, getting rid of everybody who scored fewer than 73 runs or more than 109, we now have 4,708 qualifying seasons, or 7% of all the hitter/seasons there are.
This group, however, includes players who had as many as 241 hits (Heinie Manush, 1928), and as few as 99 (Frank Fennelly, 1888. My apologies; I can think of no possible way to connect Heinie Manush and Frank Fennelly.) Getting rid of those with less than 164 hits or more than 217 leaves us with 2,136 players, or 3% of all seasons.
Those players, however, hit as many as 67 doubles (Earl Webb, 1931) and as few as 6 (Sonny Jackson, 1966). Carving us down to our required range cuts that in half—1,106 players. Those players hit as many as 23 triples and as few as zero. Cutting out those non-qualifiers cuts us under 1% of the original group. Getting rid of those with less than 16 homers or more than 32 gets rid of half of those.
But even now, the players remaining have as few as 64 RBI (Craig Biggio, 1993) and as many as 143 (Don Hurst, 1932). Cutting that to the “Oliva range”—81 to 107 RBI—leaves us with 159 players, or 2/10ths of one percent of the original list. Some of those walk too often or too little, some of them strike out too much or too little, some of them steal too many bases or too few, some of them hit higher than .337 or lower than .307. Eliminating all of those, we are down to 16 players. Steve Garvey, 1975, was in the group, but his on-base percentage was too low (.351); as Cyndy said, hit the road, Steve. We require a slugging percentage of at least .491; this eliminates three more players from the group—but leaves us with 12.
Those six seasons are. . ..well, no, first let me show you the numbers; see if you can remember who these guys are. I’ll give you the years to give you a fair shot:
| YEAR |
G |
AB |
R |
H |
2B |
3B |
HR |
RBI |
BB |
SO |
SB |
CS |
Avg |
OBA |
SPct |
OPS |
| 1922 |
151 |
592 |
96 |
194 |
33 |
8 |
17 |
107 |
30 |
65 |
12 |
3 |
.328 |
.363 |
.497 |
.860 |
| 1955 |
154 |
610 |
88 |
188 |
30 |
6 |
27 |
104 |
54 |
57 |
4 |
4 |
.308 |
.361 |
.510 |
.871 |
| 1962 |
154 |
561 |
96 |
177 |
30 |
3 |
25 |
98 |
33 |
66 |
10 |
7 |
.316 |
.356 |
.513 |
.869 |
| 1964 |
161 |
672 |
109 |
217 |
43 |
9 |
32 |
94 |
34 |
68 |
12 |
6 |
.323 |
.359 |
.557 |
.916 |
| 1965 |
149 |
576 |
107 |
185 |
40 |
5 |
16 |
98 |
55 |
64 |
19 |
9 |
.321 |
.378 |
.491 |
.870 |
| 1966 |
159 |
622 |
99 |
191 |
32 |
7 |
25 |
87 |
42 |
72 |
13 |
7 |
.307 |
.353 |
.502 |
.854 |
| 1969 |
153 |
637 |
97 |
197 |
39 |
4 |
24 |
101 |
45 |
66 |
10 |
13 |
.309 |
.355 |
.496 |
.851 |
| 1970 |
157 |
628 |
96 |
204 |
36 |
7 |
23 |
107 |
38 |
67 |
5 |
4 |
.325 |
.364 |
.514 |
.878 |
| 1971 |
126 |
487 |
73 |
164 |
30 |
3 |
22 |
81 |
25 |
44 |
4 |
1 |
.337 |
.369 |
.546 |
.915 |
| 1991 |
153 |
586 |
94 |
187 |
34 |
8 |
22 |
86 |
43 |
70 |
10 |
2 |
.319 |
.363 |
.517 |
.880 |
| 1992 |
142 |
565 |
83 |
174 |
39 |
4 |
27 |
103 |
44 |
67 |
10 |
5 |
.308 |
.361 |
.535 |
.896 |
| 1998 |
150 |
564 |
100 |
178 |
34 |
7 |
25 |
91 |
40 |
66 |
17 |
5 |
.316 |
.368 |
.534 |
.902 |
In bold face are the legitimate Tony Oliva seasons; the others are the faux Tony Oliva seasons, the years that could be his, but just don’t happen to be. Those seasons are by George Kelly (1922), Gus Bell (1955), Felipe Alou (1962), Terry Pendleton (1991), Ken Griffey Jr. (1992) and Brian Jordan (1998).
So in this case we find that Oliva’s seasons are not entirely unique; there are other players who have done the same thing. But they’re still relatively unique, in that there aren’t lots of other players who had the same kind of seasons. We made a border-line call as to whether to accept Oliva’s 1971 season as a defining season. Had we not included it, there would be NO faux Oliva seasons in baseball history, none at all. The only seasons within the parameters of Tony Oliva’s career would be Tony Oliva, 1964, Tony Oliva, 1965, Tony Oliva, 1966, Tony Oliva, 1969 and Tony Oliva, 1970.
The issue of uniqueness is unresolved, but we are now in a position to answer a question that I’ve always sort of wanted to be able to answer. If Tony Oliva’s knees hadn’t failed him in 1972, what would his career statistics be like? Let’s take Oliva’s first nine seasons as they are (1963-1972), then insert the six “faux Oliva” seasons, giving him a full career, and then tack on the decline phase that he had, only beginning in 1978, rather than 1972, and moving his injury-shortened 1972 season to the strike-shortened 1981:
| Year |
G |
AB |
R |
H |
2B |
3B |
HR |
RBI |
BB |
SO |
SB |
CS |
Avg |
OBA |
SPct |
OPS |
| 1962 |
9 |
9 |
3 |
4 |
1 |
0 |
0 |
3 |
3 |
2 |
0 |
0 |
.444 |
.583 |
.556 |
1.139 |
| 1963 |
7 |
7 |
0 |
3 |
0 |
0 |
0 |
1 |
0 |
2 |
0 |
0 |
.429 |
.429 |
.429 |
.857 |
| 1964 |
161 |
672 |
109 |
217 |
43 |
9 |
32 |
94 |
34 |
68 |
12 |
6 |
.323 |
.359 |
.557 |
.916 |
| 1965 |
149 |
576 |
107 |
185 |
40 |
5 |
16 |
98 |
55 |
64 |
19 |
9 |
.321 |
.378 |
.491 |
.870 |
| 1966 |
159 |
622 |
99 |
191 |
32 |
7 |
25 |
87 |
42 |
72 |
13 |
7 |
.307 |
.353 |
.502 |
.854 |
| 1967 |
146 |
557 |
76 |
161 |
34 |
6 |
17 |
83 |
44 |
61 |
11 |
3 |
.289 |
.347 |
.463 |
.810 |
| 1968 |
128 |
470 |
54 |
136 |
24 |
5 |
18 |
68 |
45 |
61 |
10 |
9 |
.289 |
.357 |
.477 |
.833 |
| 1969 |
153 |
637 |
97 |
197 |
39 |
4 |
24 |
101 |
45 |
66 |
10 |
13 |
.309 |
.355 |
.496 |
.851 |
| 1970 |
157 |
628 |
96 |
204 |
36 |
7 |
23 |
107 |
38 |
67 |
5 |
4 |
.325 |
.364 |
.514 |
.878 |
| 1971 |
126 |
487 |
73 |
164 |
30 |
3 |
22 |
81 |
25 |
44 |
4 |
1 |
.337 |
.369 |
.546 |
.915 |
| 1972 |
153 |
586 |
94 |
187 |
34 |
8 |
22 |
86 |
43 |
70 |
10 |
2 |
.319 |
.363 |
.517 |
.880 |
| 1973 |
142 |
565 |
83 |
174 |
39 |
4 |
27 |
103 |
44 |
67 |
10 |
5 |
.308 |
.361 |
.535 |
.896 |
| 1974 |
150 |
564 |
100 |
178 |
34 |
7 |
25 |
91 |
40 |
66 |
17 |
5 |
.316 |
.368 |
.534 |
.902 |
| 1975 |
151 |
592 |
96 |
194 |
33 |
8 |
17 |
107 |
30 |
65 |
12 |
3 |
.328 |
.363 |
.497 |
.860 |
| 1976 |
154 |
610 |
88 |
188 |
30 |
6 |
27 |
104 |
54 |
57 |
4 |
4 |
.308 |
.361 |
.510 |
.871 |
| 1977 |
154 |
561 |
96 |
177 |
30 |
3 |
25 |
98 |
33 |
66 |
10 |
7 |
.316 |
.356 |
.513 |
.869 |
| 1978 |
146 |
571 |
63 |
166 |
20 |
0 |
16 |
92 |
45 |
44 |
2 |
1 |
.291 |
.345 |
.410 |
.754 |
| 1979 |
127 |
459 |
43 |
131 |
16 |
2 |
13 |
57 |
27 |
31 |
0 |
1 |
.285 |
.325 |
.414 |
.739 |
| 1980 |
131 |
455 |
46 |
123 |
10 |
0 |
13 |
58 |
41 |
45 |
0 |
1 |
.270 |
.344 |
.378 |
.722 |
| 1981 |
10 |
28 |
1 |
9 |
1 |
0 |
0 |
1 |
2 |
5 |
0 |
0 |
.321 |
.367 |
.357 |
.724 |
| 1982 |
67 |
123 |
3 |
26 |
3 |
0 |
1 |
16 |
2 |
13 |
0 |
0 |
.211 |
.234 |
.260 |
.495 |
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
2580 |
9779 |
1427 |
3015 |
529 |
84 |
363 |
1536 |
692 |
1036 |
149 |
81 |
.308 |
.356 |
.491 |
.847 |
More later. Articles on this general topic will be given the title “Faux” as an organizing devise. The next article in the series is “Faux Edgar”. Thanks. Bill
Bill James
Ft. Myers, Florida |