On August 13, 1954, Jack Harshman of the She-cago White Sox pitched a 16-inning complete-game shutout against the Tigers, facing 65 batters and eventually winning the game, 1-0. This gave him a string of 27 consecutive scoreless innings, as he had pitched a shutout in his previous start.
Two days later, with the White Sox trailing 8-7 through 7 innings, Harshman was called in in relief, and pitched a two-inning relief stint to finish out the 8-7 loss. Not two days off; ONE day off, after pitching a 16-inning complete game. And not a relief appearance to face one batter; two full innings of bullpen duty.
I am actually not finished with that story. Harshman’s opposing pitcher in that game was Al Aber, another lefty who also pitched a complete game, losing 1-0 after pitching 15 1/3 innings.
Believe it or not, Aber also was called in to pitch in relief on August 15.
OK, here’s a mix of 20 batter’s seasons. Ten of these seasons were by Luis Aparicio, and ten were by Bert Campaneris. Can you tell which is which?
|
G
|
AB
|
R
|
H
|
2B
|
3B
|
HR
|
RBI
|
BB
|
SB
|
CS
|
AVG
|
SLG
|
OBA
|
OPS
|
|
152
|
612
|
98
|
157
|
18
|
5
|
6
|
51
|
53
|
56
|
13
|
.257
|
.332
|
.316
|
.647
|
|
142
|
573
|
82
|
153
|
29
|
10
|
5
|
42
|
25
|
52
|
10
|
.267
|
.379
|
.302
|
.681
|
|
146
|
578
|
93
|
154
|
20
|
3
|
10
|
37
|
49
|
57
|
17
|
.266
|
.363
|
.324
|
.688
|
|
156
|
625
|
90
|
170
|
24
|
4
|
6
|
45
|
38
|
53
|
13
|
.272
|
.352
|
.313
|
.665
|
|
151
|
659
|
97
|
182
|
25
|
8
|
6
|
41
|
33
|
25
|
11
|
.276
|
.366
|
.311
|
.676
|
|
159
|
642
|
87
|
177
|
25
|
9
|
4
|
38
|
50
|
62
|
22
|
.276
|
.361
|
.330
|
.692
|
|
145
|
557
|
76
|
148
|
20
|
9
|
2
|
40
|
35
|
29
|
6
|
.266
|
.345
|
.309
|
.653
|
|
144
|
578
|
67
|
156
|
23
|
12
|
6
|
42
|
41
|
51
|
19
|
.270
|
.382
|
.326
|
.709
|
|
137
|
509
|
69
|
135
|
15
|
3
|
4
|
46
|
50
|
24
|
12
|
.265
|
.330
|
.337
|
.667
|
|
150
|
552
|
77
|
140
|
19
|
7
|
5
|
46
|
47
|
27
|
20
|
.254
|
.341
|
.314
|
.655
|
|
153
|
600
|
86
|
166
|
20
|
7
|
2
|
61
|
43
|
51
|
8
|
.277
|
.343
|
.323
|
.666
|
|
153
|
581
|
72
|
140
|
23
|
5
|
7
|
40
|
32
|
31
|
12
|
.241
|
.334
|
.280
|
.614
|
|
146
|
601
|
73
|
150
|
18
|
8
|
5
|
45
|
36
|
40
|
6
|
.250
|
.331
|
.291
|
.623
|
|
151
|
601
|
89
|
150
|
17
|
6
|
4
|
46
|
50
|
34
|
10
|
.250
|
.318
|
.308
|
.626
|
|
134
|
527
|
77
|
153
|
18
|
8
|
2
|
41
|
47
|
34
|
15
|
.290
|
.366
|
.347
|
.713
|
|
143
|
575
|
82
|
148
|
22
|
6
|
3
|
41
|
52
|
28
|
8
|
.257
|
.332
|
.317
|
.649
|
|
152
|
533
|
69
|
142
|
19
|
6
|
3
|
56
|
34
|
21
|
4
|
.266
|
.341
|
.311
|
.653
|
|
149
|
625
|
85
|
150
|
25
|
2
|
8
|
32
|
32
|
52
|
14
|
.240
|
.325
|
.278
|
.603
|
|
147
|
601
|
85
|
149
|
29
|
6
|
3
|
32
|
36
|
55
|
16
|
.248
|
.331
|
.297
|
.628
|
|
134
|
569
|
80
|
143
|
18
|
4
|
5
|
47
|
29
|
34
|
7
|
.251
|
.323
|
.287
|
.611
|
Of course you can’t; it’s basically impossible. Their batting skills were essentially identical, except that Campaneris struck out more and had that one flukey year when he hit 22 homers. Campaneris had a career on base percentage of .311, a slugging percentage of .342; Aparicio was at .311 and .343. If I don’t give you the strikeouts and don’t include the fluke year, there’s basically no way to know which is which. It is:
|
Player
|
YEAR
|
TEAM
|
HR
|
RBI
|
BB
|
SB
|
CS
|
AVG
|
SLG
|
OBA
|
OPS
|
|
Aparicio
|
1959
|
White Sox
|
6
|
51
|
53
|
56
|
13
|
.257
|
.332
|
.316
|
.647
|
|
Campaneris
|
1966
|
A's
|
5
|
42
|
25
|
52
|
10
|
.267
|
.379
|
.302
|
.681
|
|
Aparicio
|
1964
|
Orioles
|
10
|
37
|
49
|
57
|
17
|
.266
|
.363
|
.324
|
.688
|
|
Aparicio
|
1961
|
White Sox
|
6
|
45
|
38
|
53
|
13
|
.272
|
.352
|
.313
|
.665
|
|
Aparicio
|
1966
|
Orioles
|
6
|
41
|
33
|
25
|
11
|
.276
|
.366
|
.311
|
.676
|
|
Campaneris
|
1968
|
A's
|
4
|
38
|
50
|
62
|
22
|
.276
|
.361
|
.330
|
.692
|
|
Aparicio
|
1958
|
White Sox
|
2
|
40
|
35
|
29
|
6
|
.266
|
.345
|
.309
|
.653
|
|
Campaneris
|
1965
|
A's
|
6
|
42
|
41
|
51
|
19
|
.270
|
.382
|
.326
|
.709
|
|
Campaneris
|
1975
|
A's
|
4
|
46
|
50
|
24
|
12
|
.265
|
.330
|
.337
|
.667
|
|
Campaneris
|
1977
|
Rangers
|
5
|
46
|
47
|
27
|
20
|
.254
|
.341
|
.314
|
.655
|
|
Aparicio
|
1960
|
White Sox
|
2
|
61
|
43
|
51
|
8
|
.277
|
.343
|
.323
|
.666
|
|
Aparicio
|
1962
|
White Sox
|
7
|
40
|
32
|
31
|
12
|
.241
|
.334
|
.280
|
.614
|
|
Aparicio
|
1963
|
Orioles
|
5
|
45
|
36
|
40
|
6
|
.250
|
.331
|
.291
|
.623
|
|
Campaneris
|
1973
|
A's
|
4
|
46
|
50
|
34
|
10
|
.250
|
.318
|
.308
|
.626
|
|
Campaneris
|
1974
|
A's
|
2
|
41
|
47
|
34
|
15
|
.290
|
.366
|
.347
|
.713
|
|
Aparicio
|
1957
|
White Sox
|
3
|
41
|
52
|
28
|
8
|
.257
|
.332
|
.317
|
.649
|
|
Aparicio
|
1956
|
White Sox
|
3
|
56
|
34
|
21
|
4
|
.266
|
.341
|
.311
|
.653
|
|
Campaneris
|
1972
|
A's
|
8
|
32
|
32
|
52
|
14
|
.240
|
.325
|
.278
|
.603
|
|
Campaneris
|
1967
|
A's
|
3
|
32
|
36
|
55
|
16
|
.248
|
.331
|
.297
|
.628
|
|
Campaneris
|
1971
|
A's
|
5
|
47
|
29
|
34
|
7
|
.251
|
.323
|
.287
|
.611
|
There are few sets of star players in history whose offensive skills are so nearly identical. They were both right-handed hitters, essentially the same size (one is listed at 5’9”, 160 pounds, the other at 5’10”, 160 pounds.) They were contemporary American League players who played against each other for ten years.
But one thing that has always intrigued me is this: that, while both men were shortstops, Aparicio was always regarded as a brilliant defensive shortstop. Campaneris, although he was the regular shortstop on three World Championship teams, never was. Aparicio played in 8 All-Star Games, won 9 Gold Gloves, started at 28% in the Hall of Fame voting and was elected to the Hall of Fame before his 50th birthday. Campaneris, with the same offensive skills, played in 5 All-Star games, but won no Gold Gloves and was eliminated from the Hall of Fame ballot after drawing only 3% support in his first appearance.
Aparicio, rather famously, never played an inning in his career at any position other than shortstop. Campaneris came to the majors without a defensive position, took two-plus years to settle in as a shortstop, and (also rather famously) played all 9 defensive positions in a major league game.
I got to wondering whether their defensive Win Shares and Loss Shares would support the common evaluation, and decided to take a look at that. Let’s run this as a Q & A. …
Q. Is Aparicio’s superior defensive reputation supported by your analysis?
A. Well, yes and no. But probably more “yes” than “no”.
Q. In what respects is Aparicio’s advantage justified?
A. I have Aparicio pegged with 101 Fielding Win Shares in his career, Campaneris only 76—a very significant difference.
Q. More than the innings played difference?
A. Much more. I have Aparicio with a career defensive won-lost record of 101-37, a .730 percentage, and Campaneris at 76-43, a .640 percentage.
Q. What is his advantage, specifically? What are the statistical differences between them as fielders?
A. Aparicio’s fielding percentage is higher, .972 to .964. Given the length of their careers, that’s a difference of about 100 plays, actually more than that. Since Aparicio’s career was slightly earlier in time and fielding percentages go up over time, Aparicio compared to league norms was actually +116 errors (meaning 116 errors less than the league norms), whereas Campaneris was -4. Aparicio is 120 plays better.
In terms of assists per inning, relative to league norms, Campaneris was better than Aparicio. Campaneris in his career was +46 assists, relative to league norms and adjusted for strikeout rates and adjusted for the team assist rate. Aparicio was -66. But in terms of putouts, Aparicio was +191, and Campaneris was -49.
Which makes sense, because Aparicio was famous for his ability to chase down the ball in the air, the shallow pop up in the outfield. That was where he made his reputation, running down those would-be hits in shallow left and behind second base. Those are putouts.
Q. What about double plays?
A. Comparable. Aparicio turned 69 double plays per 1,000 innings, Campaneris 66, but that appears to be a context thing; actually, adjusting for context Campaneris comes out ahead, or at least his teams do, and that’s what I base the double play credits on.
Both of them were very near league norms for double plays for most of their careers. The White Sox in 1970 turned 187 double plays, a large number, but the expectation for that team was actually 193, so they’re -6. Aparicio’s teams finished within 10 of their expected double plays every year except four, but they were -26 in 1961. Campaneris’ teams were on expectation most of his career, too, but the A’s were +32 in 1971 and +26 in 1973.
Q. The expectation based on what?
A. Estimated runners on first base and the team’s ground ball tendency, as is reflected in their team assist total.
Q. How does Aparicio compare to Ozzie?
A. I have Ozzie at 123-17, an .880 percentage. But Aparicio’s percentage is better than Vizquel (.704) or Trammell (.667).
Q. Then in what respect is the Aparicio advantage not justified?
A. Well, for one thing, most of Aparicio’s advantage is in his early years. Aparicio’s defensive won-lost record for his first six years in the majors was 39-8, an .822 percentage. Campaneris’ was 17-21, a .446 percentage. But once Campaneris learned the position, I don’t see that there was a huge difference between them. After the first six years, Campaneris’ defensive winning percentage was actually better than Aparicio’s, although that’s a little misleading because Aparicio had a longer exit path. He was a regular shortstop at age 39. Campy’s last year as a regular shortstop was age 35.
Q. And anyway, isn’t that a little bit like saying that the Yankees were the best team in the American League in 1985 if you don’t count April?
A. Well, yes, but on the other hand, Aparicio won a Gold Glove as late as 1970. Our analysis suggests that, by 1970, Campaneris, who was 28, was a much better shortstop than Aparicio, who was 36. But that’s really the only year that that’s true. Aparicio won the Gold Glove in ’68, but in ’68 he was still a better shortstop than Campaneris, and after 1970 the Gold Gloves mostly went to Belanger.
Q. How good was Belanger?
A. Haven’t figured it. But there’s another problem with the way that history has compared these two men.
Q. Are you suggesting that Campaneris belongs in the Hall of Fame?
A. No. Neither of them belongs in the Hall of Fame, but that’s kind of what I’m getting at. Campaneris was actually a more valuable offensive player than Aparicio.
Q. Not significantly, surely?
A. Fairly significantly, yes. Aparicio has a won-lost record, as a hitter, or 194-255, a .432 percentage. Aparicio was a below-average hitter every year of his career except 1966, when I credit him with an offensive won-lost log of 15-13, 1970 (13-13) and 1971 (14-9). Campaneris, on the other hand, has offensive records of 14-11, 14-10, 18-10, 17-9, 14-9 and 13-12. And stop calling me Shirley.
Q. How is that possible, since their on-base percentages and slugging percentages are the same, in the same leagues?
A. A combination of small stats and park effects. Aparicio grounded into 184 double plays in his career, Campaneris 106. And, while both played in poor hitter’s parks, Campaneris’ offensive contexts, because of the Oakland Coliseum, are worse.
Q. But is that really relevant, for these players? It’s not like either one of them was going to lead the league in home runs if he played in a phone booth in Colorado.
A. Well, if you have two players creating the same number of runs, but one of them doing that in a context of a 700-run season and the other one in the context of a 680-run season, how can you avoid adjusting for that in a way that doesn’t distort outcomes? You can’t.
Also, on the subject of how the individual was affected by the park, Aparicio’s OPS for his career was 40 points higher at home than on the road (674 to 633). Campaneris’ was 20 points higher on the road (663 to 643).
Q. So if you put offense and defense together?
A. If you put offense and defense together, I credit Aparicio with a career won-lost record of 294-292, and Campy 261-245. Relative to replacement level, that’s pretty close to the same thing.
Q. So you think the Hall of Fame selection of Aparicio is just totally absurd?
A. Well, I wouldn’t choose to say that. There’s a lot that I don’t understand. Suppose that the defense of a shortstop is twice as important as I have estimated it to be, or suppose that the number of runs saved by Aparicio turns out, with better analysis, to be some number too large to be consistent with my evaluation.
I don’t see how those things can be true. I don’t see how you can double the importance of shortstop’s defense without trivializing the pitcher—but maybe there’s a way of looking at the issue that we just haven’t thought of yet. Our methods of analyzing these questions are vastly better than they were a generation ago—but they are not so good that we have any right to sneer at other people’s opinions.
|
|
|
|
APARICIO
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
YEAR
|
TEAM
|
AGE
|
HR
|
RBI
|
AVG
|
Batting WS
|
B LS
|
F WS
|
F LS
|
T WS
|
T LS
|
W Pct.
|
|
|
1956
|
White Sox
|
22
|
3
|
56
|
.266
|
8
|
15
|
7
|
1
|
15
|
16
|
.485
|
|
|
1957
|
White Sox
|
23
|
3
|
41
|
.257
|
11
|
14
|
5
|
3
|
17
|
17
|
.498
|
|
|
1958
|
White Sox
|
24
|
2
|
40
|
.266
|
11
|
13
|
7
|
1
|
18
|
14
|
.561
|
|
|
1959
|
White Sox
|
25
|
6
|
51
|
.257
|
12
|
15
|
6
|
2
|
18
|
17
|
.516
|
|
|
1960
|
White Sox
|
26
|
2
|
61
|
.277
|
12
|
15
|
9
|
0
|
21
|
15
|
.587
|
|
|
1961
|
White Sox
|
27
|
6
|
45
|
.272
|
11
|
16
|
5
|
2
|
17
|
19
|
.471
|
|
|
1962
|
White Sox
|
28
|
7
|
40
|
.241
|
8
|
18
|
7
|
1
|
15
|
19
|
.432
|
|
|
1963
|
Orioles
|
29
|
5
|
45
|
.250
|
12
|
15
|
5
|
3
|
17
|
18
|
.487
|
|
|
1964
|
Orioles
|
30
|
10
|
37
|
.266
|
12
|
14
|
8
|
0
|
20
|
14
|
.590
|
|
|
1965
|
Orioles
|
31
|
8
|
40
|
.225
|
9
|
16
|
7
|
1
|
16
|
17
|
.488
|
|
|
1966
|
Orioles
|
32
|
6
|
41
|
.276
|
15
|
13
|
5
|
4
|
20
|
17
|
.543
|
|
|
1967
|
Orioles
|
33
|
4
|
31
|
.233
|
9
|
15
|
2
|
6
|
11
|
21
|
.350
|
|
|
1968
|
White Sox
|
34
|
4
|
36
|
.264
|
12
|
14
|
7
|
2
|
20
|
16
|
.556
|
|
|
1969
|
White Sox
|
35
|
5
|
51
|
.280
|
13
|
13
|
6
|
1
|
19
|
14
|
.576
|
|
|
1970
|
White Sox
|
36
|
5
|
43
|
.313
|
14
|
9
|
4
|
3
|
17
|
12
|
.597
|
|
|
1971
|
Red Sox
|
37
|
4
|
45
|
.232
|
6
|
16
|
4
|
3
|
10
|
19
|
.349
|
|
|
1972
|
Red Sox
|
38
|
3
|
39
|
.257
|
8
|
11
|
2
|
4
|
11
|
14
|
.426
|
|
|
1973
|
Red Sox
|
39
|
0
|
49
|
.271
|
9
|
13
|
5
|
2
|
14
|
15
|
.474
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
194
|
255
|
101
|
37
|
294
|
292
|
.502
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
.432
|
|
.730
|
|
.502
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
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CAMPANERIS
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YEAR
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TEAM
|
AGE
|
HR
|
RBI
|
AVG
|
B WS
|
B LS
|
F WS
|
F LS
|
T WS
|
T LS
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W Pct.
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|
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1964
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A's
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22
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4
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22
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.257
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5
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6
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1
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2
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6
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8
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.408
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1965
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A's
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23
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6
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42
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.270
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14
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11
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1
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5
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15
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16
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.482
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|
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1966
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A's
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24
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5
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42
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.267
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14
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10
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3
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4
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17
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15
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.535
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*
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1967
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A's
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25
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3
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32
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.248
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12
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15
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3
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5
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14
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20
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.420
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1968
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A's
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26
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4
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38
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.276
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18
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10
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6
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3
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24
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12
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.666
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1969
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A's
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27
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2
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25
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.260
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11
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12
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3
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3
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14
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15
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.486
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1970
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A's
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28
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22
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64
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.279
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17
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9
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6
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1
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23
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10
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.694
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1971
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A's
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29
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5
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47
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.251
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10
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15
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3
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4
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13
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18
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.416
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1972
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A's
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30
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8
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32
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.240
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12
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16
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8
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1
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20
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18
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.524
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1973
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A's
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31
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4
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46
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.250
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13
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14
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6
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2
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20
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15
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.562
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1974
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A's
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32
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2
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41
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.290
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14
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9
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7
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1
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21
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10
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.675
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1975
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A's
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33
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4
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46
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.265
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12
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11
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5
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2
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17
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14
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.554
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1976
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A's
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34
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1
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52
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.256
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13
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12
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6
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2
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19
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14
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.572
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1977
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Rangers
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35
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5
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46
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.254
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9
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18
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8
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0
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17
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18
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.493
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1978
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Rangers
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36
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1
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17
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.186
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2
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12
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2
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2
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5
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15
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.239
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1979
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Rangers
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37
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0
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0
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.111
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0
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0
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0
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0
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0
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0
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.363
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Angels
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37
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0
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15
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.234
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3
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9
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3
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0
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6
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9
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.407
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1980
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Angels
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38
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2
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18
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.252
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3
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6
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1
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2
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4
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8
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.336
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1981
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Angels
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39
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1
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10
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.256
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2
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2
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0
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1
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2
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3
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.341
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1983
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Yankees
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41
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0
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11
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.322
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3
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3
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1
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1
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4
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5
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.446
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186
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202
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76
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43
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261
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245
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.517
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.479
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.640
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.517
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.000
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Note: Campaneris also had 0-0 record as a pitcher in 1966.
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Campaneris had a higher OPS than Aparicio both in day Games (677 to 673) and at night (639 to 635)—but an OPS one point LOWER overall. The trick, of course, is that he played more night games.
Both players have extremely similar left/right splits, with larger platoon differentials than I would have guessed. Aparicio hit .251 against right-handers, with a .623 OPS, but .288 against lefties, with a .730 OPS. Campaneris hit .246 against right-handers with a .627 OPS, but .286 against lefties with a .705.
Campaneris had a very strong “hot weather/cold weather pattern”, with a low OPS in April (.566), September (.610) and October (.510), but had OPS (Oh-pee-esses? Oh-pee-eye?) of .688, .674 and .686 in the warm-weather months of June-July-August. Aparicio had the same pattern—most people do—but less dramatically, with an OPS between .620 and .689 in every month, peaking in July.
In 1959, when our method credits Aparicio with a won-lost record of just 18-17, he finished second in the MVP voting behind his double-play partner, Nellie Fox. The White Sox won the pennant; Fox and Aparicio were the team’s identity. We credit Fox with a won-lost log of 25-8, and these two men pulled in all 24 first-place votes in the MVP contest—16 for Nellie, 8 for Luis. This is the MVP voting:
1. Nellie Fox, Chicago 295
2. Luis Aparicio, Chicago 255
3. Early Wynn, Chicago 123
So this brings up the question: Who got screwed in the MVP voting? Who was it that really produced the wins that the voters credited to Aparicio? Jim Landis? Sherm Lollar? Gerry Staley?
Again, I’m not assuming that our analysis is right and the MVP voters were necessarily wrong. I’m just saying, if Aparicio didn’t create those wins, then who did? I’ll have to do a study of that team.
Campaneris was mentioned in the MVP voting almost every year, but the highest he ever finished was 10th. And the year he finished 10th in the voting, Aparicio finished 9th.
By our analysis, Campaneris’ 1970 and 1974 seasons are far better than any Aparicio season. In both seasons, the American League MVP Award basically went begging, going to slow heavyweight sluggers who didn’t really have BIG numbers. Campaneris finished 15th in the voting in 1974, and in 1970, his best season, finished 24th—while Aparicio finished 12th.
I have a system that sorts seasons by teams into:
5—Highly Successful (or Outstanding)
4—Successful (or Good)
3—Neutral
2—Disappointing (or Poor)
1—Extremely disappointing (or Terrible).
Aparicio has a career average of 3.12, Campaneris a career average of a 3.55. Aparicio played for two teams that had highly successful seasons (the 1959 White Sox and the 1966 Orioles), and five other teams that had successful seasons.
For Campaneris, three of the first four teams for which he played were terrible—the Kansas City A’s of 1964, 1965, and 1967, putting his career “successful team average” in a deep hole. But Campaneris was the regular shortstop for seven teams that had outstanding seasons—the A’s of 1969, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1974, 1975, and the Rangers of 1977—and played for five other teams that had “Good” seasons—the A’s of 1966, 1968, and 1970, the 1979 Angels, and the 1983 Yankees.
Outstanding Seasons by team: Campaneris 7, Aparicio 2
Good and Outstanding Seasons: Campaneris 12, Aparicio 7
The Royals Alex Gordon had surgery yesterday, performed by Marc Phillippon, the “hip doctor to the stars”. Phillippon afterward announced that the surgery had gone well.
Aren’t you always amazed that people can say that with a straight face? I’m still waiting for the first doctor to come out of surgery and announce, “Nah, we screwed it up. We didn’t anesthetize the area properly, and his leg was bouncing all around while we were cutting it up with sharp things and little blow torches. We’ll be lucky if the bastard ever walks again.”
This has been bothering me for a long time. I have a theory that the vulnerability of a career record can be assessed by comparing the record with a normal league-leading figure.
If the career record represents more than 21 seasons worth of league-leading performance, the record is entirely safe for the time being.
If the career record represents 18 to 21 seasons of league-leading performance, then the record is relatively safe. It is not “vulnerable”.
If the career record represents 15 to 18 seasons of league-leading performance, however, then the record is vulnerable. It is likely that somebody will, at least, seriously threaten that record.
And if the career record represents less than 15 seasons worth of league-leading performance, then the record is doomed. Somebody is GOING to break it.
For example, Walter Johnson held the career record for strikeouts for more than 50 years, with some total that no two statisticians can agree on, but it’s somewhere around 3500. By the late 1960s a league-leading strikeout total was around 270. Johnson’s record represented only 13 seasons worth of league-leading strikeout performance—thus, the record was certain to be broken, as it was. Gang-broken.
Ty Cobb stole 892 bases in his career, and, for those of you who like to pretend that 19th century baseball was major league baseball, Billy Hamilton stole 912. In the 1950s, when a typical league-leading figure was 20 to 25 stolen bases a year, that record was entirely safe.
By the mid-1960s, however, a typical league-leading stolen base total was around 60, and the record had become vulnerable. Lou Brock did in fact break the record, in the early 1970s, but pushed it only to 938. By the early 1980s a typical league-leading stolen base number was 75 to 80. Brock’s record was doomed—and Rickey Henderson, of course, did smash it.
This theory predicted from about 1960 on that some active player would break Babe Ruth’s career home run record (714), and, by the mid-1990s, that some active player would break Aaron’s record of 755. The theory has generally predicted the breaking of career records 8 to 15 years before the record was broken, and often before it became apparent who the new record-holder would be.
And then there is Doubles, where my theory—which has been so successful with regard to strikeouts, stolen bases, home runs, and in lesser areas—doesn’t seem to work. Tris Speaker has held the career record for doubles for more than 80 years. .. in fact, I don’t think he has hit one since he retired in 1928. In the 1930s, when hitters commonly hit 55 doubles in a season and five players hit 60 or more, Speaker’s record appeared quite vulnerable—but it survived.
The “typical league-leading number” can be figured as “the average of the last ten league leaders”, five from each league. At the time that I became a baseball fan, you could lead the league in doubles with a number in the high 30s. The post-1960 average was 38.8, meaning that Speaker’s record represented 20+ seasons of league-leading performance. The record was relatively safe.
Throughout the 1960s and into the 1970s, when most hitting numbers went down, the league-leading doubles totals went up. This is the “league leading doubles index” and the “years represented by record” for the years 1960-1977:
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After
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Doubles
|
Years
|
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After
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Doubles
|
Years
|
|
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1960
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38.8
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20.4
|
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1970
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40.3
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19.7
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1961
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39.4
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20.1
|
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1971
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39.7
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19.9
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1962
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41.5
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19.1
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1972
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39.1
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20.3
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1963
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42.1
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18.8
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1973
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38.3
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20.7
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|
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1964
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41.9
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18.9
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1974
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38.7
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20.5
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1965
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43.1
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18.4
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1975
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39.8
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19.9
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1966
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43
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18.4
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1976
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40.7
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19.5
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1967
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41.2
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19.2
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1977
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43.3
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18.3
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1968
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41.2
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19.2
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1969
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40.5
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19.6
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|
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The record remained in the “relatively safe” range for all of those years. By the late 1970s, however, a lot of major league baseball was being played in large parks with artificial turf—parks like Riverfront Stadium in Cincinnati, Three Rivers in Pittsburgh, Veteran’s Stadium in Philly, Royals Stadium in Kansas City. Even old parks were being retro-fitted to look like those parks. Those were “doubles” parks. Hal McRae in KC hit 54 doubles in 1977—the most any player had hit since 1950—and the average league-leading figure was working its way up. Beginning in 1978, Tris Speaker’s doubles record had become a little bit vulnerable:
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After
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Doubles
|
Years
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|
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1973
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38.3
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20.7
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1974
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38.7
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20.5
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1975
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39.8
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19.9
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1976
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40.7
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19.5
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1977
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43.3
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18.3
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1978
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45.4
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17.4
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1979
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46.2
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17.1
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Speaker’s record represented “only” 17.1 seasons of league-leading performance. It wasn’t “highly” vulnerable—it wasn’t a toxic asset—but history was running against it.
The trend line stalled out at that point, however, and nothing really changed in regard to this through the 1980s and into the early 1990s:
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After
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Doubles
|
Years
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|
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1978
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45.4
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17.4
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1979
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46.2
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17.1
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1980
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45.9
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17.3
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1981
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44.7
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17.7
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1982
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43.8
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18.1
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1983
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42.7
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18.5
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1984
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41.7
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19.0
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1985
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41.6
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19.0
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1986
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44.5
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17.8
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1987
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43.9
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18.0
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1988
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44.1
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18.0
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1989
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45.2
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17.5
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1990
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44.7
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17.7
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1991
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44.1
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18.0
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1992
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44.9
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17.6
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Throughout that era the record remained around the edges of what might be considered “vulnerable”. A little vulnerable, basically safe. Pete Rose came closer to the record than anyone had in the half-century since Speaker had left us, charging to second on the list. Donnie Ballgame (Mattingly) would probably have made a run at the record had he stayed healthy a little longer, and maybe Boggs could have, but he didn’t. The record was reasonably safe.
Beginning with the steroid era, however, Speaker’s vital signs began to degenerate steadily:
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After
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Doubles
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Years
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|
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1991
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44.1
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18.0
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1992
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44.9
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17.6
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1993
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46.1
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17.2
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1994
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45.7
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17.3
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1995
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47.5
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16.7
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1996
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48.4
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16.4
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1997
|
49.4
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16.0
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1998
|
49.6
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16.0
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1999
|
50.8
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15.6
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2000
|
52.1
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15.2
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2001
|
52.1
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15.2
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2002
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52.6
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15.1
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2003
|
52.5
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15.1
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2004
|
52.7
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15.0
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By 2004 a typical league-leading doubles’ figure was 53, and the record was highly vulnerable. It was on the edge of being “doomed”.
But. . where as the challengers? Craig Biggio got up to 668, fifth on the list, but he was never a real threat to Speaker’s record.
The trend line now is in Speaker’s favor. Batting numbers are going down across the board. Lance Berkman led the NL last year in doubles with 46, the lowest league-leading total since the 1994 strike.
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After
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Doubles
|
Years
|
|
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2004
|
52.7
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15.0
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|
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2005
|
51.1
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15.5
|
|
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2006
|
51.5
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15.4
|
|
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2007
|
51.3
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15.4
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|
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2008
|
51.3
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15.4
|
It’s not a strong enough trend line to draw any clear inference, and the record—although not facing any immediate threats--still appears to be in a vulnerable position.
But is it, or is there something about doubles that makes this approach not work here? I normally reject the “this is a special case” argument, because I have heard it so many times when it wasn’t true, such as with regard to stolen bases. People used to tell me that Rickey Henderson would slow down by the time he was 30, so he wouldn’t break Lou Brock’s stolen base record.
Still, it doesn’t feel like anybody is a big threat to the record, does it?
Berkman, who led the NL in doubles with 55 doubles in 2001 and 46 last year, is 33 years old and has nowhere near one-half of Speaker’s total. Jeter is barely over half, well short of 60%. Pedroia hit 54 last year, but he’s too far away to even talk about it.
Still, history shows that when this ratio drops to 15-1, the record tends to fall. I predict that it will, that some player now active will break the record. Albert Pujols is a threat to every record, generally speaking, and he would have to be the number one candidate to take on this one. Matt Holliday, Hanley Ramirez, Chase Utley and Nick Markakis have all shown the potential to become doubles machines, but I couldn’t give any of them a 5% chance to beat Speaker.