Intangibles: Why the A's Were Cooler Than the Giants in the Early 2000s

        (First off, that title was the single-most difficult sentence I have ever written as I have fervently argued the opposite of that point an embarrassing number of times.)

As a child who was obsessed with the statistical side of baseball, I never could understand what people were talking about when they referred to “intangibles.”  As someone who believed that every relevant aspect of baseball could be captured on a piece of paper, unquantifiable skill sets such as “baseball IQ” and “team chemistry” always struck me as made up terms used by people who wanted to justify their statistically-contradictory opinions.  It wasn’t until I was much older, and reflected back on some of the greatest teams of my lifetime, that I realized how wrong I was, and how relevant and crucial these intangible qualities are.  Not just in terms of wins or losses, or even World Series rings, but merely for basic like-ability factor, something that often is lost in the ruthless procession of time, yet is nonetheless important.

In the early 2000s, I was living in the East Bay, and being a Giant’s fan on the “A’s side of town” (Ha! Oxymoron, if you have no fans, it can’t be your side of town) there was an unavoidable prevalence of “A’s vs. Giants” arguments between my friends and I (with the occasional sprinkling of a pathetic Met argument or two).  At the time, I would have argued for the Giants to my deathbed.  But there was always an undeniable layer of envy hidden beneath comments.  I could argue wins and loses, Bonds vs. Giambi, or point out that there seem to be like 10 million A’s fans, yet they can’t seem to sell out 53,000 seat stadium (oh, no wait, it’s 35,000 seats because they had to cover all the seats that no one ever sat in.  I’m going to try to get as many of these as I can before I get to my point), but I could never find a way to vault over the inherently metaphysical argument that the A’s were simply a “cooler” team.  But was a point that was as true as it was frustrating.  Everything about the A’s in the early 2000s was awesome.  The young, home-grown talent.  Giambi’s tats and greasy flow.  The Big Three.  Miguel Tejada’s crazy stretching routine.  T-Long’s jousting helmet.  There was no way to quantify the coolness, it just was.  It seemed like even if they weren’t millionaire baseball players forced to play on the same team, they would have been friends anyways.  The Giambi bros throwing pool parties, Hudson doing underwater beer bongs in the jacuzzi, Byrnes swan diving off the roof, Zito getting stoned out of his mind and playing the guitar all night.  This visual does not seem too far out of the question.  No cliques, no hierarchy.  Just a bunch of young guys having fun and playing baseball.

Now let’s take it across the Bay and enter into No Fun Zone that was the Giant’s clubhouse of the early 2000s.  Without a doubt, the Giant’s teams during the Bonds era were some of the most stuffy, awkward, and least fun teams ever assembled.  I picture Bonds as girly-voiced version of Denzel in Remember the Titans, minus the charisma, inspirational speeches, and regard for human life.  Aurilia, I better not catch you smiling again!  or JT, why are you saving little children?  Did little children ever hit 73 homers in a single season?  I didn’t think so.  With Bonds at the helm, only his buddies could speak their mind (aka Dusty Baker and Shawon Dunston), and everyone else was given the straightforward edict to either be quiet or be traded.  This is not an environment conducive to fun or friendship.  I picture hushed conversations in the clubhouse late at night like this, long after Bonds had left, and the roar from his personal movie theater had died down, just between Kirk Reuter, Tim Worrell, and like, Chad Zerbe.

The A’s were Rocky I, young and hungry, unheralded and under-appreciated.  And, like Rocky in his first bout with Apollo Creed, the A’s didn’t win it all, but you couldn’t help but root for them.  On the other hand, the Giants were Rocky III, old and accomplished, rich and complacent.  They let their high-profile status go to their head and lost to the more hungry Angels aka Clubber Lang (although Rocky wins the rematch against Lang after Creed whoops him into shape, so...does Bochey equal Apollo Creed in this analogy?  And, then does that make Mickey equal Bonds, because once he left, then they won?  Then, Adrien would be like Matt Cain’s super hot wife right?  Oh god, this analogy fell apart quick).  The point is, the Giants thought they were cool, they thought they were the shit.  Whereas the A’s just were weird, they were quirky, and they embraced every part of it with arms wide open.  And that’s what made them actually cool.  And maybe that’s the convoluted point of this article, if you think you’re cool, you’re probably not.  If you think your team is cool, they’re probably not.  And maybe that’s a lens we can all use to look at our own lives with, because it can be so damn tempting to feel like you’re apart of something cool.  To trick yourself into believing.  And maybe, just maybe, it all boils down to the immortal words of Phillip Seymour Hoffman, “it’s cuz they make you feel cool, and, hey, I met you, you are not cool.”  My god, how self righteous of a turn this article suddenly took.  

Why the Warriors Aren't Going to Suck Me in Again This Year

      Wait, the Warriors didn’t win the championship last year??  I blacked out once they got past the first round of the playoffs and just assumed they won it all.  

      Welcome to the reality of being a Warrior’s fan.  Whereas with the Giants and Niners I actually have an expectation of some success, with the Warriors, it’s all gravy.  As Warrior’s fans, we are the battered housewives of sports.  Even one compliment or smile here and there keeps us in the relationship, sticking it out for the outside chance of a better tomorrow.  Hey, how ‘bout this kid Dunleavy?  Coach’s son, high basketball IQ, good shooter, this could be the year!  or, (my favorite) Chris Webber’s coming back?!  I’ve got a really good feeling about this one.  They have played me for a fool time and again over the years, and, call me a masochist, but that’s why they’re my favorite team in all of sports.  Not because they’re good, not because they’re hopeful, but because they’re not good, and they give me no hope whatsoever.  As the saying goes, “Fool me once shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.  Fool me continuously for over a decade, fuck it, you’re my favorite team.”

I’m sure to most of you bandwagon Warrior’s fans who first heard the name "Andris Biedrins" when he got traded last month to the Jazz, this opinion may seem overly pessimistic, and maybe even a little insulting, but those of you who have stuck with this team over the years can commiserate with me.  Let me explain.  It is not that I want the Warriors to lose.  It’s that I expect them to lose.  And don’t feel pity for me, Bandwagon Fans, the Land-of-No-Expectations is a lot nicer than it sounds.  It’s a joyous world - where every win is a reason for celebration (even if it’s over the Bobcats in October) and every loss is immediately disregarded, forgotten, lost in the avalanche of alcoholic beverages that flow 24 hours a day.  Admission is free, and the only rule is B.Y.O.E.B. (Bring Your Own Emotional Baggage).  It’s awesome, but you better come quick because we’re close to capacity after the debris from the 06-07 team finally stopped flowing in.  

Anyways, here’s what I expect for the upcoming season:

1. Steph Curry starts off the season on fire.  30 ppg, 50% from three, 7 assists a game.  This is going to be the season where he moves into the upper-echelon of basketball superst - SNAP, there goes the ankle.  Enter Toney Douglas.  Oh god.
2. The Thompson-Barnes-Igudala traffic jam on the wing creates a blood-feud between the three and the locker-room chemistry falls apart.  Barnes demands a trade.  The Warriors trade him for Austin Rivers.  Barnes becomes a Hall of Famer, Rivers becomes...well, Austin Rivers.
3. Bogut, more faithfully consistent than the winter solstice, has some sort of freak injury  (my money is on either: broken legs while stretching or his classic “arm break while dunking move”).  Plays 15-20 games.  But they will be a really promising 15-20 games, just to get our hopes up for next season.
4. Suddenly, come December, Marreese Speights is the go-to-big-guy in crunch-time minutes because David Lee can’t play defense and the Draymond Green experiment has gone horribly awry.  At least his name is awesome.
5. Jermaine O’Neal.  Wait, the Warriors picked up Jermaine O’Neal?  This may be worse than I expected.

Needless to say, I do not expect a repeat of last season.  But, once I’m a few beers deep and the scaring memories of Mickael “The French Michael Jordan” Pietrus begin to fade, romantic notions of playoff grandeur begin to float in.  They’re so young, they can only go up from last year.  What if they can get the playoff version of Harrison Barnes for an entire season??   Igudala??  A perfect veteran locker-room presence to take them to the next level!   Woah, woah, woah.  Nice try, Warriors, you almost got me again.  You guys are getting trickier and trickier.  I gotta go look at Adonal Folye stats just to get this nasty, hopeful aftertaste out of mouth.  

What is a Hall of Fame Career? Trying to Pinpoint Tim Lincecum's Place in Baseball History

Although his career trajectory in 2011 seemed destined for Cooperstown, Tim Lincecum has suddenly hit a wall.  Admittedly, he is only 29 years old, and he has a lot of years ahead of him, but assuming that he will never return to his ’08-’09 level when he won back-to-back Cy Young’s, what is Tim Lincecum’s place in the pantheon of baseball?

The question of Lincecum’s Hall of Fame status is integrally tied a deeper, and much more divisive, philosophical issue in baseball.  That is, what exactly a “Hall of Fame career” is.  If it is defined by he-who-shines-the-brightest, then Lincecum is a lock to get in.  However, if it is defined by he-who-shines-the-longest, then he still has a lot of work to do.  And, in all probability, he won’t reach the necessary milestones to get in.  As we stand today, Lincecum’s stats through his seven year career are as follows:

W	L	W%	IP	H	BB	SO	ERA	WHIP	Total WAR	Ave. WAR
84	66	0.560	1334.0	1141	518	1444	3.44	1.244	22.9	3.27

And, when you factor in his two Cy Young Awards, two World Series rings, four All Star teams, and one no-hitter, quite a career it is.  Superficially, one can read this stat line as a young pitcher, entering into the prime years of his mental and physical development, making a solid case for Hall of Fame.  Furthermore, he is a media darling who has gotten tons of coverage and hasn’t done anything to piss off the writers.  These facts shouldn’t matter but they do (ask Gary Carter).  However, anyone who has watched Lincecum as of late knows that he looks like a shell of his former self, and that’s where the difficulty comes in when projecting further into his career.  What started off as one of the most promising careers in recent memory has regressed into a disastrous past two seasons.  Here are the aggregated stats splitting the illustrious start to Lincecum’s career from the past two seasons:

	W	L	W%	IP	H	BB	SO	ERA	WHIP	Total WAR	Ave. WAR
’07-’11	69	41	0.627	1028.0	842	379	1127	2.98	1.188	25.6	5.12
’12-’13	15	25	0.375	306.0	299	139	317	5.00	1.431	-2.7	-1.35

Brutal by any definition of the word.  

Keep in mind, WAR is a stat that varies from source to source.  I used, Baseball-Reference for these figures, but if you use ESPN, Lincecum’s aggregate WAR over the past two years is a staggering -3.1.  That is the lowest total of any pitcher in the Major Leagues. Which brings up the question, can one be a Hall of Famer if, at any point in their career, they were arguably the worst pitcher in baseball?  Or maybe a better question is, are there any other comparable players that we can use as precedent to judge the mercurial career of Tim Lincecum against?  I bring this up mainly due to the fact that I made a Sandy Koufax comparison in order to argue in favor for Lincecum’s Hall of Fame bid the other day.  My point was that Koufax only really had six quality seasons in his career, yet he is unanimously considered a legitimate Hall of Famer:

	W	L	W%	IP	H	BB	SO	ERA	WHIP	Total WAR	Ave. WAR
Lincecum	84	66	0.560	1334.0	1141	518	1444	3.44	1.244	22.9	3.27
Koufax	165	87	0.655	2324.1	1754	817	2396	2.76	1.106	53.2	4.4

Obviously, it was an embarrassingly poor comparison on my part.  Koufax blows Lincecum out of the water in just about every metric besides K/9.  I'm sorry Sandy.  I forgot how ridiculous you were.

So, if not Koufax, then who?  I searched for pitchers who had multiple Cy Young Awards and a World Series Ring, yet had mediocre career numbers, and I found two other pitchers who are much more comparable.  Denny McLain and Bret Saberhagen:

	W	L	W%	IP	H	BB	SO	ERA	WHIP	Total WAR	Ave. WAR
McLain	131	91	0.590	1886.0	1646	548	1282	3.39	1.163	20.9	2.09
Saberhagen	167	117	0.588	2562.2	2452	471	1715	3.34	1.141	59.1	3.69

Both of these examples are interesting, each for their own reasons.  First off, what they have in common: neither are in the Hall of Fame.  Already a bad sign for Lincecum.  Now for the particulars, starting with McLain.  In 1968, the so-called “Year of the Pitcher,” McLain had one of the all-time great seasons, with a 1.96 ERA, 28 complete games, 336.0 innings pitched, and a psychotic 31 wins.  Thus, he became the only 30 game winner since Dizzy Dean.  If you’ve never heard of Dizzy Dean, it’s because you have a life, and because he pitched a million goddamn years ago.  The 30 win benchmark is pretty much an unreachable figure in today’s game so there’s a good chance that McLain will be the last player ever to reach it.  For his spectacular effort, McLain won both the MVP and the Cy Young.  Then, as an encore, he won the Cy Young again in 1969 (side note: he was chosen to start the All Star game in ’69 but decided to bail, opting for a dental appointment instead.  This was a precursor to the lunacy that soon followed).  It seemed as if McLain was destined to become one of the all-time greats, however, the wheels immediately fell off the bandwagon following the ’69 season, as it turned out he was a bit of a loon with a penchant for gambling and criminal activity.  McLain’s off-field exploits (this whole article could be about how crazy Denny McLain was, and still is, but I don't feel like writing 10,000 words, so look it up yourself if you're interested), and arm injuries, took away from his on-field brilliance and his chance at the Hall went up in flames.

Now, let’s look at Saberhagen.  If we could hop into the Delorean and go back to ’89 to watch the 25 year-old Saberhagen hoist up his second Cy Young Award, we would undoubtedly think we were witnessing the coronation of a future Hall of Famer.  He already had 92 wins and a World Series ring with the Kansas City Royals.  And, as we all know, winning a ring with the Royals is less likely than finding Jimmy Hoffa.  With the Holy Grail in his pocket.  In Atlantis.  Unfortunately, an injury plagued second half of his career (and a spooky habit of only playing well in odd-numbered years) would never allow Saberhagen to reach his ’84-’89 form.  Even still, Saberhagen’s career WAR of 59.1 is good for 60th place all time amongst pitchers.   Yet, when his name came up on the ballot in 2007, he only on 1.3% of the vote.  He still can get in through the Veteran's Committee, but unless those old geezers suddenly learn what WAR is, it's extremely unlikely.

Both McLain and Saberhagen have better stats than Lincecum.  They all have the same number of Cy Young Awards.  They all have a ring (obviously, Lincecum has two).  And they all have a no-hitter.  Therefore, there is no way Lincecum is getting in unless he can manage to get his career back on track in a big way.  However, the overall point of this piece isn’t to shit on Tim Lincecum for not reaching his full potential, but rather, to show that his downfall shouldn’t even be surprising.  Lincecum is generously (hilariously?) listed at 5’11” 170 lb, and is notorious for racking up high pitch counts, not icing his arm, and having one of the most unorthodox deliveries in the game.  He was a classic example of a pitcher whose career arc would be quick.  Take a look at Ron Guidry, or even Saberhagen for that matter (who was 6’1” but only weighed 160 lb).  Furthermore, the number of sub-six foot pitchers in the Hall of Fame since WWII?  One.  Whitey Ford (although, Pedro will soon be making it as well).  It is a position where size equals longevity.  And longevity equals the Hall.  If you look at guys like Verlander (6’5” 225 lb)  or CC Sabathia (6’7” a billion pounds?), their bodies are conducive for 200+ IP year after year after year.  When I watch Lincecum pitch, I’m half expecting his arm to tear off at the shoulder and fly twenty rows deep over the backstop.  So, as a Giants fan, although it is difficult for me to see Lincecum’s career decline, I still feel a huge amount of gratitude to have seen his brilliance for as long as I did.  And, if somehow he turns it back around, I will gladly eat my words (literally, I will print these pages out and consume them).  

High Five: The Greatest Five-Year Performances in Baseball History

              In rating the best five-year stretches every played in the game of baseball, one has to really split hairs in choosing one performance over another.  Needless to say, there is an inherent level of subjectivity based on what I (a completely unqualified baseball nerd whose opinion no one should take seriously) deem to be the most important metrics or intangibles.  I can already hear the sabermetric groupies are screaming at the screen right now.  Advanced stats make your subjective weighting scale totally unnecessary!!!  This is debatably true, however, I find that once one delves too deep into the Land Before Time-esque sinkhole that is sabermetrics, they never come back quite the same.  Sabermetric immersion is akin to an extreme acid addiction.  From the user’s perspective, it seems completely illogical why everyone isn’t doing it too, and from everyone else’s perspective, it is a moot point because it’s impossible to understand a fucking word the dude’s saying.  So, for the sake of my sanity and anyone else who doesn’t comprehend the vast inter-workings of Defense-Independent Component ERA, I will proceed using only traditional stats (and WAR, which, in my opinion, is the single-most all-encompassing and understandable sabermetric).

First off, let me explain my grading process:

(1)  No team accomplishments are factored in.  Besides my blind eye to PEDs, this is probably the most controversial.  That is, Joe D’s 1936-40 stretch doesn’t get an immediate bump over Bonds’s 2000-04 stretch because the Yankee Clipper won four rings and Bonds came up empty.  The nature of the game itself is to blame for my thinking here.  Whereas in basketball, trading Lebron James to the Bobcats immediately makes them a playoff team (if not a darkhorse contender*), in baseball, phenomenal players like Joe Mauer and David Wright (A very intentional backhanded Met’s diss.  Don’t worry, these will continue) can languish on terrible teams year after year at no fault of their own.  Admittedly, a similar argument can be made for individual awards, in that, they are often given to players whose teams also performed at a high level, but this is not always the case (See every MVP that Arod has ever won. ’03 Rangers - last place in AL West.  ’05 Yankees - lost in ALDS.  ’07 Yankees - lost in ALDS.  This all reinforces an unrelated, but very important point:  Arod is really good at being the best player on an underachieving team).  Thus, individual awards provide a better baseline for dominance than World Series Rings, Pennants, etc...   

* On a side note, if you don’t remember the atrocity that was 06-07 Cavs roster that Lebron singlehandedly took to the finals, here’s a refresher.  Larry Hughes was the second leading scorer on that team, and a 33-year old Eric Snow started 45 games.  This all reinforces an unrelated, but very important point:  Lebron is really good at basketball.

(2)  Use of WAR.   When it came down to comparing pitchers versus position players, or even position players with extremely different roles (i.e. catcher vs 1st baseman), I relied heavily on WAR to differentiate.  WAR (“Wins Above Replacement”), or the amount of wins that one’s performance added to their team’s season over the statistically “average” player at their respective position, is an excellent tool when comparing players of different positions or different eras, and I used it as such. 

(3) Use of 162 game averages.  In most cases, this is a misleading metric, but seeing as I was only filtering through the greatest five-year performances of all time, the assumption is that if the players were not playing in every game, they were damn close.  Furthermore, the projected full season numbers were a useful way to compare players who had different lengths of seasons on an even playing field.

(4) No pre-Bambino bullshit.  I tossed out everyone whose prime stretch precluded Ruth’s career in pinstripes (as we speak, I can hear the muted echo of Ty Cobb screaming racial epithets at me from beyond the grave).  I cannot really give much justification to this decision outside of the fact that the comically skewed stats from the dead ball era have always really bugged me (yea, I’m talking to you Hugh Duffy, with your ridiculous .440 batting average).  Therefore, even if a player’s prime includes a single season before Ruth’s 1920 debut with the Yankees, they’re DQ’d.  My list, my rules, Walter Johnson, go cry about it. 

(5) Any PED conversation is out.  Hate thinking about it, hate talking about it, hate justifying it, but if it was up to me, every player would be juiced to the gills, sweating testosterone, and hitting 800ft bombs.  How can this be bad for the game?  I’ll say it, I miss the Steroid Era, get over it.  Stop screaming Ty Cobb, those days are over.

The Top Ten

The "What Could Have Been" Group

Players whose careers were so spectacular, yet all one can do is sit back and wonder how amazing they would have been if fate hadn't intervened

10. Sandy Koufax (1962-66)

	W	L	CG	SHO	IP	H	SO	BB	WHIP	ERA	WAR
Totals	111	34	100	33	1377.0	959	1444	316	0.926	1.95	40.9
162 game ave	22	7	20	7	262	183	275	61	0.926	1.95	8.3

The world only got to witness the full display of Koufax’s prowess for five seasons, as his career was bookended by horrifying control issues on one end, and debilitating arm issues on the other, but what a five years it was.  I cannot name a pitcher who put together an indisputable Hall of Fame career with a smaller sample size of brilliance.  Over the five-year stretch, Koufax was five for five in All Star appearances, won three Cy Young awards, and also captured one of those coveted pitcher MVPs.  Toss in three Triple Crowns (the most in history), and you have a guaranteed spot on this list.  
The last superlative I can throw in for Koufax is this: the footage still speaks for itself.  When you watch the grainy images of Koufax winding back and snapping off a curveball, from the left side no less, there is no need for further explanation of his dominance.  In an era which pitching was king, Koufax had a goddamn death-grip on the throne.

9. Lou Gehrig (1927-31)

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2899	721	1025	196	801	47	544	0.354	0.458	0.677	1.135	47.2
162 Game Ave	609	152	216	42	169	10	115	0.354	0.458	0.677	1.135	9.2

Choosing between Gehrig and Mantle was by far the most difficult decision on the list.  Based purely on a linear comparison of their numbers, Gehrig is the easy decision for #8, but there are a couple hugely important reasons why I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  First of all, the lineups that the Yankees had were some of the most terrifying lineups ever assembled in the history of the game.  They don’t call you “Murder’s Row” because you often pop out in foul territory and routinely ground into double plays.  If you’ve never taken done it, take a moment to look at the 1930 Yankee’s lineup.  That is the statistical equivalent of Brooklyn Decker making out with Kate Upton.  Naked.  Secondly, Gehrig played while the game was still segregated, whereas Mantle played against an integrated, and much more talented, league.

8. Mickey Mantle (1954-58)

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2586	630	840	192	522	57	602	0.325	0.451	0.618	1.070	47.7
162 Game Ave	569	139	185	43	115	13	133	0.325	0.451	0.618	1.070	10.1

The Mick.  Half-drunk and half-hobbled, Mickey Mantle still made the top ten.  The stories about Mantle before he blew out his knee get more and more grandiose as the years go by, and I love it.  He was one part Bo Jackson, with an unfathomable combination of power and speed, one part Babe Ruth, running New York City with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a prostitute in the other.  What a legend.  

The New Guys:

The two best pitchers of the modern era.  Obviously, the other notable contenders were Clemens and the Big Unit, but their “prime five” WHIP/ERAs just couldn’t compete with these two.

7. Greg Maddux (1992-1996)

	W	L	CG	SHO	IP	H	SO	BB	WHIP	ERA	WAR
Totals	90	40	42	`12	1191.2	951	905	204	0.969	2.13	40.3
162 game ave	20	9	9	3	256	204	194	44	0.969	2.13	9.1

How can that goofy S.O.B. be one the greatest players of all time?  He looks the charter member of a World of Warcraft guild, who moonlights as the shoe-sanitizer at a bowling alley, collects crystalline cat figurines, and has an affinity for taxidermy.  It is very easy to underestimate Greg Maddux.   But you would be doing it to the detriment of your batting average, as a tailing 90 MPH wake-up call, followed by a splintery mess of an 0-for-4 would soon be coming your way.  When I look at pictures like this, it makes me think that Greg Maddux might have been the very first baseball troll.  He probably hired a full-time photographer whose only purpose was to take pictures like this.  No, no, no, it needs to emphasize the extra chip flab more.  Wow, evil genius at its most comedic level.  
Five years, four Cy Young awards.  And, just for kicks, five Gold Gloves as well.   The only possible blemish on Maddux’s most notable stretch of dominance was the fact that we only got to watch him for 25 starts in the strike-shortened season of ’94.  Up to that point, he had a 1.56 ERA, 10 complete games, 3 shutouts, and a .896 WHIP.  It was the kind of once in a lifetime season that could never be repeated again.  Unless your name is Greg Maddux.  And you do it again the very next season.  In his 1995 campaign, Maddux posted a jaw-dropping 19-2 record, with a 1.63 ERA, and a video-game-like 0.811 WHIP.  A true master of the game at the height of his powers. 

6. Pedro Martinez (1996-2000)

	W	L	CG	SHO	IP	H	SO	BB	WHIP	ERA	WAR
Totals	90	35	32	12	1122.0	823	1375	273	0.977	2.45	41.6
162 game ave	20	8	7	3	245	180	300	60	0.977	2.45	9.6

If the picture above doesn’t tell the whole story by itself, there can be only one highlander.  And his name is Pedro Martinez.  And if you want to fuck with him, prepare yourself for an eye-full of Jerry Curl juice, and a mouth-full of first base line. Seriously, what was Zimmer’s end game here?  Knocking Pedro unconsious with an overhand right and getting the key to the city?  Or a statue with six-pack abs inside the Yankee museum?  Although we may have lost hours of our lives as ESPN combed through this footage like it was the Zapruder film, all was not lost, as we also learned one of the most important lessons in all of sports:  if you’re rocking a uniform you’re one of the guys, and the shit goes down, prepared to get slapped on like you’re one of the guys.  To be honest, nothing that has happened in baseball since this even holds a candle up to this.  A singular moment of pure, visceral entertainment.  Lets’s all have a short moment of silence.  Ok, Pedro/Zimmer tangent over, let’s get back to the list. 
How can a man who is 170 lb. soaking wet, pitching in the eye of PED-infested storm, put up numbers like this?  During his prime, Pedro won three Cy Young’s and came in second another time.  And his brilliance culminated in the year 2000 when, given the era, he had arguably the greatest season of all time: 1.74 ERA, 5.3 H/9, 8.88 SO/BB, and .737 WHIP, the lowest in the history of baseball.  As a fan who has a boner for all things WHIP-related, Pedro was a lock to be included in the top 10.  
One more note - remember when the Red Sox and Yankees used to actually hate each other?  Not out of ritualized necessity, but purely for the fact that they thought the other guys were douche bags?  Two (complacency laced) rings for the Sox and a half dozen incestuous trades later, and the rivalry has turned into a mid-season episode of Downton Abbey.



The Willie Mays Group:

5. Willie Mays (1962-66)

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2905	583	883	223	570	59	372	0.304	0.382	0.601	0.983	52.3
162 Game Ave	599	121	182	46	118	13	77	0.304	0.382	0.601	0.983	10.8

Barely batting above .300??  Less than a .400 OBP??  What is so ludicrous about this list is how pedestrian the other performances make the Say Hey Kid’s look.  Compared to every other name listed, his batting average and on-base percentage look pathetic, but when you get to his WAR you see the real story.  The fact of the matter is that National League pitching had become so dominant in the ‘60s that only one hitter who eclipsed .350 for the entire decade (Roberto Clemente did it twice - in ’61 and ’67.  Clemente is probably the leader in the clubhouse for biggest snub on the honorable mention list.  He won four batting titles in the 60s and was a perennial All Star/Gold Glove guy, but his lack of run production put him a notch below guys like Musial and Berra in my mind.  Jesus Christ, Saunders, you are such an idiot).   Factor in that Mays lead the league in homers three out of these five seasons, and that he was the best center fielder the game has ever seen, and he has a legitimate spot at number four on this list.

The Sickos Who Somehow Managed to Win Two Triple Crowns Group:

4. Ted Williams (1941-48)

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2529	667	916	168	621	9	736	0.362	0.508	0.658	1.166	50.4
162 Game Ave	557	147	202	37	137	2	162	0.362	0.508	0.658	1.166	10.5

No, not that Ted Williams, the other one.  The who is currently floating in a jar somewhere in the Arizona desert, face stuck in a terrified perma-scream, listening to an eternal laugh-track of giddy lab techs as they play home run derby using his head as the tee (This is closer to the truth than it may sound).   
Most notably, Williams is known for being the last guy to hit .400, but I think his most amazing accomplishment were his two Triple Crowns, one on both end of WWII.  Somehow, after his first Crown, in one of the most blatant Yankee-biased heists I’ve seen, Williams came in second to Joe Gordon in the 1942 MVP voting.  Someone please explain this one to me.  Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

Joe Gordon, 1942

AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
538	88	173	18	103	12	79	0.322	0.409	0.491	0.900	8.2

 Ted Williams, 1942

AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
522	141	186	36	137	3	145	0.356	0.499	0.648	1.147	10.6

And, if that didn’t paint a vivid enough picture for you, Gordon also led the league in strikeouts and grounding into double plays that year.  Arguably the biggest MVP voting travesty of all time.
And if you want to play the “What-if” game with Williams, think about the fact that he missed three of his prime years (’43-’45) while in the Navy in WWII.  If you think about what he could have accomplished with three more years like the ones list above, it’s staggering.

3. Rogers Hornsby (1921-25)

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2679	615	1078	144	598	43	352	0.402	0.474	0.690	1.164	49.8
162 Game Ave	625	144	252	34	140	11	83	0.402	0.474	0.690	1.164	10.8

          Hornsby has my vote as the most under-appreciated player in the history of the game.  Not only does he have the highest aggregate batting average on this list by far, he also had plus power and was a run producing machine.  Beyond Williams, Hornsby rounds out the illustrious multiple Triple Crown club (with Mr. Cabrera knocking at the front door) and has a 1922 Crown that seemingly gets more difficult to look at the longer you stare:

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
1922	623	141	250	42	152	17	65	0.401	0.459	0.722	1.181	10.0

But then you continue down the page and see his 1924, 1925 seasons and you are literally blinded:

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
1924	536	121	227	25	94	5	89	0.424	0.507	0.696	1.203	12.1
1925	504	133	203	39	143	5	83	0.403	0.489	0.756	1.245	10.1

So, for those of you keeping score at home, that’s five years, five batting titles, two triple crowns, and an aggregate batting average above .400 for Mr. Hornsby.  It must have been something else to see this guy in person.

The Great Debate Group:

2. Barry Bonds 2.0 (2000-04)

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2122	615	720	258	544	46	872	0.339	0.535	0.781	1.316	51.2
162 Game Ave	480	139	163	59	123	11	198	0.339	0.535	0.781	1.316	11.4

Camera one, camera two.  Camera one, camera two.  Let me introduce you to Bonds 2.0.  I covered everything I needed to say about Bonds in my first article.  And my hands are beginning to hurt, so just marvel at the stats.  Stat-porn at its finest.

1. Babe Ruth (1920-24)

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2455	723	909	235	659	59	691	0.370	0.511	0.777	1.288	56.8
162 Game Ave	560	165	208	54	151	14	158	0.370	0.511	0.777	1.288	12.1

Even though I am sick and tired of seeing the fat old man being ranked number one, he’s done it again.  The truth is, no list would ever be complete without Ruth being mentioned somewhere on it.  He is the godfather.  He is the king.  He is the G.O.A.T.  The only controversy with Ruth’s inclusion is which five-year stretch to choose.  The two obvious choices are 1920-24 or 1926-30, and the decision comes down to a matter of statistical preference.  Homers or batting average?  Runs or RBI?  Instead of singling out any of the numbers individually, I made my choice based on the more holistic stats of OPS and WAR, and then the decision became quite straightforward.  As you can see above, the Sultan of Swat’s OPS from 1920-24 was Jon Dowd-ian (if you don’t know who Jon Dowd is, shame on you) 1.288, versus a paltry 1.209 from 1926-1930.  And the WAR comparison is even more decisive at 12.1 versus 10.5.   

Dudes Who Were in the Discussion, But Just Slightly Outside of the Top Ten:

Lefty Grove (1928-32)

Known for: Ace of Philadelphia A’s dynasty, 

	W	L	CG	SHO	IP	H	SO	BB	WHIP	ERA	WAR
Totals	128	33	119	16	1408.1	1297	925	346	1.167	2.56	42.6
162 game ave	24	6	22	3	255	235	168	63	1.167	2.56	8.2

Lefty Grove was from the Good ‘Ol Days.  The glory years when a pitcher was considered a prima donna for getting pulled out in the 12th inning with a four digit pitch-count.  Here’s proof:  in 1930, Grove led the league in wins AND saves.  Twenty-eight wins, and nine saves.  Not only did nine saves somehow lead the league, it was a mark set by a starting pitcher who dabbled in relief on his off days.  Looking back through the lens of today’s game, where there are closers, and set-up men, and 7th inning guys, and long relievers, and lefty-specialists, you gotta give props to an old-school horse like Lefty Grove.

Jimmie Foxx (1932-36)

Known for: Best hitter of the Philadelphia A’s dynasty

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2817	644	980	227	720	35	542	0.348	0.454	0.675	1.129	42.9
162 Game Ave	606	139	211	49	155	8	117	0.348	0.454	0.675	1.129	8.8

Jimmie Foxx accomplished just about everything you can can on a baseball field, yet I feel that he has gone down as one of history’s most underrated players.  The guy was in the Majors when he was seventeen years old.  If only he had played for the Yankees, Foxx would undoubtedly be a household name. 

Joe DiMaggio (1937-41)

Known for: Being Captain of the Yankees, having the longest hitting streak of all time, being legendarily pussy-whipped by Marilyn Monroe

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2731	603	957	169	691	17	312	0.350	0.420	0.638	1.058	38.0
162 Game Ave	645	143	226	40	164	3	74	0.350	0.420	0.638	1.058	8.6

The definition of a winner, DiMaggio was the Captain of the Yankee squad during arguably the most dominant period of the club’s unparalleled history.  Between ’37 and ’41 he was five for five in All Star appearances, won two MVPs, and mixed in a little hit streak as well.   You’d think that would be enough to get you into the top ten, but you’d be wrong.

Stan Musial (1943-48) 

Known for: Best player on the Cardinals dynasty of the 40s, being somewhere near the top of like every goddamn hitting category there is

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	3007	615	1078	144	598	43	352	0.352	0.430	0.582	1.012	39.7
162 Game Ave	638	126	225	21	107	8	84	0.352	0.430	0.582	1.012	8.0

Of all the players included on this list, I think that WAR short-changes Musial the most. Ty Cobb, in a 1952 Life magazine article, called Stan the Man “the closest to being perfect in the game today.”  And, trust me, if a certified douche bag like Ty Cobb is giving you compliments like that, you’re the real deal.   And here’s a random, but equally jaw dropping note, the dude had more doubles in this five year stretch than every Mets roster from 1962 to 1976.  Maybe the most astounding stat I’ve ever seen.  And that is not at all a shot at the Mets.  I swear.

Yogi Berra (1951-55)

Known for: Where to start?  Being the goofiest looking dude in the Hall of Fame, appearing in 21 World Series as a player, coach, or manager (winning 13), having countless ridiculous sayings (my favorite: “I’m not going to buy my kids an encyclopedia - let ‘em walk to school like I did.”)

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2709	441	782	133	527	8	276	0.289	0.358	0.489	0.847	24.9
162 Game Ave	613	100	177	31	120	2	63	0.289	0.358	0.489	0.847	5.9

I shit you not, Berra got the nickname Yogi because his childhood friends said “he just walked like a Yogi.”  How can you not become a legend with a start like that?  The stats may not knock your socks off, in fact, Berra never led the league in a single category.  Not one.  Though, to be fair, he did win “most likely to be cast in a supporting role in Lord of the Rings” in the annual Yankee yearbook.  Nonetheless, the three MVPs he won over these five seasons speak volumes as to how good Yogi Berra really was.  In the two seasons he didn’t win?  He came in second and fourth.  A true Renaissance man of the diamond, Berra routinely split time between catcher, left field, right field, and even occasionally filled in at third and first when the Yankees needed him to. 

Hank Aaron (1959-63)

Known for: being the real home run king

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	3045	581	984	202	627	91	311	0.323	0.383	0.600	0.984	43.4
162 Game Ave	634	121	205	43	131	19	65	0.323	0.383	0.600	0.984	8.8

This is exactly the kind of list that works against a guy like Hammerin’ Hank.  That is, a guy who brilliance is not defined by meteoric moments of greatness, but rather, a methodical and relentless body of work.  Aaron was damn close to cracking the top ten, but a relatively mediocre OBP, coupled with the fact that his main competition was Willie Mays, left him inches short in my mind.

Bob Gibson (1968-72)

Known for: This quote is all you need know: Hank Aaron once told Dusty Baker, “Don't dig in against Bob Gibson, he'll knock you down. He'd knock down his own grandmother if she dared to challenge him. Don't stare at him, don't smile at him, don't talk to him. He doesn't like it. If you happen to hit a home run, don't run too slow, don't run too fast. If you happen to want to celebrate, get in the tunnel first. And if he hits you, don't charge the mound, because he's a Gold Glove boxer.”  Baseball was so much cooler in the 60s.

	W	L	CG	SHO	IP	H	SO	BB	WHIP	ERA	WAR
Totals	100	53	122	29	1436.1	1152	1204	409	1.087	2.35	42.5
162 game ave	21	11	25	6	291	233	144	83	1.087	2.35	9.1

Although I would never say it to his face, in my opinion, Koufax was definitively better than Gibson.  The proof is truly in the pudding on this on as Gibson’s ERA is significantly higher, he has less strikeouts, less wins, more walks, etc, etc...  However, an argument can be made that Gibson’s 1968 campaign is the single greatest season any pitcher in the history of baseball.  Take a look:

	W	L	CG	SHO	IP	H	SO	BB	WHIP	ERA	WAR
1968	22	9	28	13	304.2	198	268	62	0.853	1.12	11.2

Everything about this stat line is horrifying.  Thirteen shutouts???  How did the anemic St. Louis offense manage to lose this guy nine games?  Anyways, Gibson was so dominant that they actually changed the rules of the game in response to make pitchers less dominant.   I can’t think of a swaggier move than getting the rules changed in response to your swag.  That’s all I have to say, about that.

Tom Seaver (1969-73)

Known for: having the only plaque in Cooperstown with a Met hat (shocker)

	W	L	CG	SHO	IP	H	SO	BB	WHIP	ERA	WAR
Totals	103	51	89	17	1402.1	1076	1280	367	1.029	2.35	39.0
162 game ave	20	10	17	4	267	205	244	70	1.029	2.35	7.9

Seaver was probably the most surprising name that stuck out at me during my research for this article.  Color me fooled for thinking that there was no way a Met was going to sneak onto this list (the Met’s comments are never going to stop).   “Tom Terrific” won two Cy Young’s in this stretch, and got robbed out of a third in 1971, arguably the best season of his career.  Last note - Tom Terrific?  Really?  This is probably the most pathetic attempt at a nickname I’ve ever seen.  C’mon Met’s fans, it’s like you opened up a dictionary, looked for the first word you could find that started with a T, and said, how about...Tommy Teaspoon?  No, no, keep looking.  Ok, how about Tom Terrific?  Brilliant! 

Joe Morgan (1972-76)

Known for: His flappy elbow batting stance, Always thinking he’s right (if you’ve ever saw him as the color man on broadcasts alongside Jon Miller, you know what I’m talking about)

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2610	565	792	108	427	310	592	0.303	0.431	0.499	0.930	47.8
162 Game Ave	569	124	173	24	94	68	130	0.303	0.431	0.499	0.930	10.1

Morgan (and his awesome flappy elbow) won back-to-back MVPs in ’75 and ’76, and, in my opinion, was the straw that stirred the drink on a loaded Cincinnati Reds roster.  I would wager that in today’s game Morgan would be even more appreciated due to his ridiculously high OBP and amazing combination of power and speed.

Rickey Henderson (1980-84)

Known for: Referring to himself in the third person or simply as The Greatest

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2565	537	754	50	245	460	486	0.294	0.408	0.418	0.826	34.8
162 Game Ave	593	125	175	12	57	107	113	0.294	0.408	0.418	0.826	7.8

Like with Aaron, this is the kind of structure that works against Rickey Henderson, but for a different reason.  He was undoubtedly the greatest leadoff hitter the game has ever seen.  He stole more bases, and scored more runs than any player in history.  He also had decent power to boot.  But, unfortunately, Rickey’s greatness was never concurrently displayed over the course of five seasons.  The stolen bases came early in his career, and the home runs came later, but there was never an extreme enough of a crossover.  Sorry Rickey, you didn’t make the top ten, but it still doesn’t affect my opinion of you as Swag-Master-General of Major League Baseball.

Roger Clemens (1986-90)

Known for: The most Cy Young Awards in history (7), an incessant need to throw objects at Mike Piazza’s head (totally understandable)

	W	L	CG	SHO	IP	H	SO	BB	WHIP	ERA	WAR
Totals	100	42	57	23	1281.1	1052	1224	359	1.101	2.71	41.7
162 game ave	20	9	12	5	257	211	245	72	1.101	2.71	8.8

Two Cy Young Awards, an MVP,  and a 20 strikeout game couldn’t get the Rocket into the top ten.  Not to mention 57 complete games and 23 shutouts, both figures that are unheard of in the modern era of pitching.  Essentially, the decision came down to Maddux or Clemens, and unfortunately for Clemens, a relatively mediocre 1989 season inflated his five-year ERA and WHIP to a level that simply could not compete with the nerdy professor’s.  Clemens is yet another example of a guy whose sustained brilliance works against him when spotlighting a particular five-year stretch of their career.

Barry Bonds 1.0 (1990-94)

Known for: Resembling an actual Homo Sapien

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2432	526	755	175	537	192	527	0.310	0.432	0.604	1.035	42.8
162 Game Ave	553	120	172	40	122	44	120	0.310	0.432	0.604	1.035	9.7

It’s sick to say that Bonds probably could have made it into the top ten for multiple five-year stretches of his career, but it’s true.  This was Bonds 1.0, renown for his remarkable plate discipline, unparalleled combination of power and speed, and the uncanny ability to win Gold Gloves entirely because of his hitting.  He won his first three MVPs while inhabiting this body, and never finished lower than fourth in the voting.  

Ken Griffey Jr. (1996-2000)

Known For: Ridiculous shit like this.  And this.  And this.

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2912	593	844	249	685	81	415	0.290	0.382	0.604	0.986	35.8
162 Game Ave	618	126	179	53	146	18	88	0.290	0.382	0.604	0.986	7.3

If there has ever been a more beautiful player than Ken Griffey Jr, I can’t think of him.  Whenever I see footage of his swing, the music from The Natural begins to play in my head and my eyes get cloudy (*sniff* goddamn you, Robert Redford, you get me every time).  Griffey was the natural, placed on this Earth with the specific mission to amaze in the baseball diamond.  Playing in an era of wild-west-style steroid abuse (look at this ridiculous collection of human beings, Juan Gon could rip a phonebook in half with his forearms), Griffey was still a head above his competition.  Unfortunately, once he left the Mariners, the hamstrings began to give out and Junior’s pursuit to become baseball’s G.O.A.T. was derailed.

Randy Johnson (1998-2002)

Known for: Incredibly impressive animal cruelty.  Perfecting the mullet’s sweat-to-grease ratio (Good lord. It’s beautiful)

	W	L	CG	SHO	IP	H	SO	BB	WHIP	ERA	WAR
Totals	100	38	41	17	1274.1	990	1746	374	1.070	2.63	44.1
162 game ave	20	8	9	4	250	195	343	74	1.070	2.63	9.1

When I started making this list, the Big Unit’s ’98 to ’02 run seemed like a lock to be in the top ten.  This was the period when Randy finally put it all together, the accuracy, the masterful changing of speeds, the gangly intimidation, the mullet.   The dude ran off four consecutive Cy Young’s for god’s sake.  And it was in the midst of the NL’s steroid utopia no less.  His 12.3 K/9 is a figure that no one even sniffs nowadays.  However, in the final tally, the 6’11” giant in the desert simply couldn’t stand up to the little runt out in Boston, and he came up just short of the top ten (So many unintentional puns!!  I crack myself up).

Albert Pujols (2005-09)

Known for: Being the best hitter on the Cardinal’s World Series winning teams

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2783	571	930	206	608	48	507	0.334	0.439	0.631	1.070	44.5
162 Game Ave	585	120	196	44	107	11	107	0.334	0.439	0.631	1.070	9.1

Up until last year, it was debatable whether Albert Pujols was even a human being.  A 13th Round draft pick, Pujols burst onto the scene as a bonified All Star and proceeded to go on an eleven year run (seemingly) without a slump.  However, ironically, his quiet, consistent domination seemed to lose him points in my mind when comparing him to guys like Mantle or Koufax (that is, guys who had much flashier styles of play).  Reasoning like this is exactly why no one should take my opinion seriously.

Miguel Cabrera (2009-2013)

Known for: Winning first Triple Crown since 1967

	AB	R	H	HR	RBI	SB	BB	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	WAR
Totals	2731	505	916	178	572	18	395	0.335	0.420	0.601	1.021	32.3
162 Game Ave	607	113	204	40	127	4	88	0.335	0.420	0.601	1.021	7.1

Cabrera has taken the crown from Pujols as baseball’s best player.  Furthermore, he seems to be still getting better.  His status on this list has a chance to improve he continues his Triple Crown assault on the American League.