One more time, for old time's sake ...

Well, I couldn't leave it like THAT. I mean, I could not just end this thing with that list of Top 100 offensive seasons since 1960, especially since I hated the list. So I worked at it, and came up with a new formula, one that offers results that are much, much more in line with my own thinking. I would explain how I did it, but, like usual, I don't really know. I did find that my old formula double- and triple-counted some things, which explained why it was so weighted toward players from 1995-2006. Also I didn't take in account defense and some other stuff. Anyway, this formula uses many of the same elements, and while I doubt this formula is any more mathematically sound, it better reflects my own feelings about baseball.

Before we get there, I want to thank everyone for their support and for buying The Soul of Baseball. And for old-time's sake, let me offer one more huge, meandering, monster blog.

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Tim Raines. One of the sad parts of giving up the blog, at least for a while, is that I just got my very own Win Shares spreadsheet that allows me to search through the win shares number and … man I could do a lot of blogging with this thing. It’s like a new toy. I love Win Shares. I understand that there are supposed to be various technical problems with them, but i've often proven that technical difficulties don't phase me -- like Bugs Bunny, I never studied law (or statistics). So I can just enjoy the simplicity of it all. The Win Shares system takes much of what Bill James believes about baseball and puts that into a simple number. And since I idolize and admire Bill, that’s more than good enough for me.

Anyway, I was doing some Win Shares research for my Top 100 list, and I found that, with only five exceptions, the Top 75 players in career Win Shares are either in the Hall of Fame or are going to the Hall.

The five exceptions are:

No. 14: Pete Rose. Well, we all know that story.

No. 47: Tony Mullane. A 19th Century pitcher who won 30 games five years in a row. He could pitch both right-handed and left-handed. It was a very different game when Mullane pitched, but it does seem like historians have overlooked him.

No. 52: Rafael Palmeiro. Well, things might loosen up on the steroid stranglehold, but for now it appears that Palmeiro will be on the outside looking in despite his 3,000 hits and 569 homers.

No. 54: Bill Dahlen played from 1891-1911, and he wasone of the first brilliant defensive shortstops in baseball history. He was also, for the time, a power hitter (he finished among the leaders in homers five times), an aggressive base runner (he stole more than 500 bases) and a Moneyball man (he walked more than 1,000 times in his career).

No. 57: Tim Raines.

And finally we get to the point. Raines will be up for Hall of Fame election this year, and it seems clear that that voters do not see him like this -- as one of the 75 best players in baseball history. There are some fairly obvious reasons for this, including these:

-- Raines doesn't have those counting numbers we voters love -- No 3,000 hits, no 500 homers.
-- Raines did not achieve many of the honors we normally associate with all-time greats. He did win a batting title, but he never came particularly close to winning an MVP award (he could have won in 1985, '86 or '87 -- you could argue he was the best player in the NL all three of those seasons -- but he did not receive even one first place vote). He was only chosen to seven All-Star Games, which would be a low total for a Hall of Famer.
-- He was a prominent part of baseball's cocaine scandal of the early 1980s.

Beyond that, though, there was somthing just obsessively underrated about the guy. I remember hearing a touching story once about someone trying to convince Raines that he was a better player than his old teammate Andre Dawson. Now you may agree with this sentiment or disagree with it, but Raines himself wouldn't even hear of it. He thought Dawson was a superstar. And he viewed himself as a good little player rather than as the second-best player in the National League during the 1980s, which is what he was (I think, behind Schmidt). That's how other people viewed him as well.

Raines has his numbers arguments -- he's fifth all-time in stolen bases, but more than that he may be the greatest base stealer who ever lived. He was successful 84.6 percent of the time. Among the Top 50 base stealers (and since they've been keeping caught stealing statistics) that's the best percentage ever. He's also in the Top 50 in runs, runs created (well, 51st in runs created), times on base, walks. He finished in the Top 5 in on-base percentage six times.

But I think his Hall of Fame case is more nuanced: Raines really was a dominant player for several years. He was probably not just the best player in the NL but the the best player in all of baseball from 1983-87 -- those five years he hit .318 with a .406 OBP, he averaged 34 doubles, 114 runs scored, 71 stolen bases every year (and he was successful a stunning 88 percent of the time). He even added 11 homers and 61 RBIs per year out of the leadoff spot. He had more Win Shares over those five years than anyone else in the game. Many people may not have realized at the time -- heck RAINES may not have realized it at the time -- but we were watching greatness.

I honestly don't know what kind of support Raines will get from the voters. We as voters tend to cling to certain things. A few years ago, Dennis Eckersley breezed into the Hall in his first season though it sure seemed like he had a very nuanced Hall of Fame case (pretty good starter for a while, then lousy starter, then dominant reliever for the better part of six years, then pretty average reliever). He went in quick because voters got it into their heads that he had:

1. Won a Cy Young Award with a brilliant relief season.
2. Won 20 games one year as a starter
3. Won almost 200 games and saved 390.

And so he went in. I'm not saying Eckersley doesn't belong in the Hall of Fame; I'm saying that I was surprised he went in so easily. So perhaps enough voters have latched on to Tim Raines who was (in my opinion, at least):

1. The best player in baseball for a five-year period.
2. The best base stealer ever.
3. A guy with more career Win Shares than, among others, Joe DiMaggio, Roberto Clemente, Tom Seaver and WAY MORE than Dennis Eckersley.

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Here are my 10 favorite Ben Folds songs:

1. Landed
2. Philosophy
3. Smoke
4. Fred Jones. Pt. 2
5. Jesusland
6. Uncle Walter
7. Underground
8. The Luckiest
9. Rockin' The Suburbs
10. Alice Childress

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ESPN asked me to pick a face of the Royals franchise for their series which, coincidentally, is called "Face of the Franchise." I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I spent hours in my room thinking about the question -- I'm not going to lie because the guy who asked me to do this is a reader of this blog and he knows better -- but I did spend a few minutes thinking about it. The rules were that it had to be a CURRENT face of the franchise, and it's very clear that the Royals are in transition. Throughout this decade -- for good and bad -- the face of the franchise has been Mike Sweeney. But this figures to be his last season.

So my first thought was Dayton Moore. I saw that is who my friend Rob Neyer picked. It's a good choice. But I passed on Moore because I think as this team progresses (assuming this team does progress as I think it will), Dayton figures to step more and more into the background. He doesn't want to be up front leading the parade, that's just not his personality.

Then I thought about Alex Gordon, who I think will be an All-Star third baseman. I get the sense people think this has been a disappointing rookie season for Gordon, especially because he was, I think, the almost unanimous preseason choice to be rookie of the year. What happened, though, is he got off to an absolutely abysmal start; I mean he was awful at the plate and in the field. Gordon has a laid back personality -- it's difficult to tell what he's thinking. This is both good and bad -- it's good because he was hitting .161 on May 12, and he was undoubtedly thinking "AARRGH! OH MY GOD! I SUCK! HELP!" So we didn't need to know that. At the same time, he looked so laid back that many fans and outsiders wondered if Gordon was AWARE that he was hitting .161.

"You suck!" a few yelled, you know, as a gentle reminder.

He was plenty aware. He pulled himself together. Since June 8, he's hitting .302 with 17 doubles, 3 triples, 8 homers and a .502 slugging percentage in 235 at-bats. This is the Rookie of the Year performance everybody expected from him. He could still afford to walk a bit more, and power will come, but he's 23 and he figures to make multiple All-Star games and become an icon in Kansas City.

That said: I didn't pick him as face of the franchise. I also didn't pick Joakim Soria, who I hope will not get overlooked in the Rookie of the Year voting. Soria may not deserve to WIN the award because he hasn't been in a position to put up big counting stats -- wins, saves, what have you. But he's pitching about as well as anyody in the game. His magic date is May 20 -- since then he has allowed 3 runs. That gives him an 0.86 ERA. The league is hitting .123 against him over that time.

(A brilliant reader suggested that they should play Van Morrison's "Gloria" so fans can shout "S-O-RRRRRRR-I, S-O-R-I-A" when Joakim comes into the game. Naturally, I love this idea. Some have also suggested playing Laura Branigan's Gloria; I don't like that as much).

I also didn't pick Brian Bannister, who I hope will not get overlooked in the Rookie of the Year voting. I know a lot of people love Matsuzaka for the award, and he has been very good. But look at the numbers:

Matsuzaka: 13-9, 3.79 ERA, 164 IP, 151 hits, 164 strikeouts, 17 HR, .245 batting average against, 119 ERA+.
Bannister: 9-7, 3.31 ERA, 127 IP, 113 hits, 63 strikeouts, 9 HR, .236 batting average against, 142 ERA+.

Not bad, eh? I love watching Bannister pitch -- the guy has an idea out there. LIke I say, though, I didn't pick him either.

Enough suspense: I picked Billy Butler. I don't really know if he's the face of the franchise or not, but there's just something great about this guy. First of all, he can really, really hit. One scout friend of mine compared him to a young Manny Ramirez, which isn't bad. But also, he's just got this lovable, Gilligan quality about him. There are plenty of other possibilities -- I didn't even mention Zack Greinke or Mark Teahen or Gil Meche -- but I'm just predicting here and now that Butler will be the guy.

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OK, time for the new "100 Best Seasons EVER since 1960." I like this formula lot better -- I've incorporated a little bit of defense in there (not much, but a little bit) and tried to take out some of the double counting I was doing before. I really like this list:

1. Barry Bonds, 2001
2. Barry Bonds, 1993
3. Barry Bonds, 2002
4. Mickey Mantle, 1961
5. Barry Bonds, 2004

As you can see, Barry still has four of the Top five spots (he had the Top four spots in the Best Seasons v1.0). But what I like about this version is that it gives him full marks for his absolutely amazing 1993 season. That was small-head Barry, and his later numbers seem so much more impressive. But in 1993, Bonds hit .336 with 48 homers and 123 RBIs. He walked 126 times so his on-base percentage was a very nice .458. He stole 29 bases. He won a Gold Glove. He slugged .677 which was the highest slugginng percentage in baseball since Mantle in 1961 (and you see Mantle's season there at No. 4).

It's very interesting -- if you believe the story, it seems that in 1998, after dominating the game in an unnoticed way for more than a decade, Bonds decided to get noticed. He saw the way America fawned over McGwire, Sosa and the home run, and so he bulked up by whatever means and became this massive, hitting terminator who so thoroughly tilted the game that soon managers raised the white flag. Forget his home runs, Bonds' biggest number in the record books may be 120 -- his 120 intentional walks in 2004 -- living proof that Bonds simply became too good to play professional baseball.

But while he forever changed the perception of himself -- for good and bad -- he also made too many people forget just how good he was before the armor, the muscles and BALCO. His 1993 season is one of the best in baseball history.

6. Sammy Sosa, 2001
7. Norm Cash, 1961
8. Carl Yastrzemski, 1967
9. Frank Robinson, 1966
10. Mark McGwire, 1998

I won't lie ... part of my quest as I redid my original formula was to figure out why Yaz's 1967 ranked so low (it ranked 36th in the original). I don't know that I ever really figured it out, but I adjusted things and Yaz moved up the charts. I adjusted it a bit more and Yaz moved higher. Finally I got to the formula the way I wanted, and Yaz was at No. 8, which I think is a good place for him to be. I think his season was certainly more significant and better than either Sosa's 2001 or Cash in 1961, but I can live with this. There, right behind it, is Frank Robinson's Triple Crown season of 1966.

A quick few words about Norm Cash's amazing season: You generally know he hit .361 with 41 homers, 132 RBIs and 124 walks. I mean, that's an all-time season if there ever was one. A lot of people call that a fluke season, and to some degree it was. But Cash was an outstanding player who never really got his due because baseball was so Triple Crown conscious. After 1961, Cash never hit better than .283 and he never again hit 40 homers or drove in 100 runs. BUT he had a career OPS+ of 139, which is better than a lot of Hall of Famers, and he did hit 30+ homers four more times, and he played in a time when runs were mostly hard to come by.

11. Albert Pujols, 2003
12. Willie Mays, 1965
13. Barry Bonds, 1992
14. Joe Morgan, 1975
15. Hank Aaron, 1963

So which Joe Morgan was better?

The 1975 Joe Morgan: .327/.466/.508, 17 homers, 94 RBIs, 107 runs, 132 walks, 67 steals, 169 OPS+
The 1976 Joe Morgan: .320/.444/.576, 27 homers, 111 RBIs, 113 runs, 114 walks, 60 steals, 187 OPS+.

My gut feeling would have been to say 1976 because of the OPS+ difference and the better counting stats. That might still be the right answer ... but it might not. In 1976, Morgan had 3 more doubles and 10 more homers, plus the added RBIs and runs. But in 1975, Morgan got on base 32 more times (12 more hits, 18 more walks, two more hit-by-pitches) and stole seven more bases (while being caught just once more). I don't have the math capacity to figure this out. It seems to me to be awfully close. It may come down to the whole OPS argument -- how good a statistic is OPS? It's better than batting average, sure, but you run into some serious mathematical problems when you just add on-base percentage and slugging percentage, just a couple being:

-- Everybody tends to agree that on-base percentage is more telling than slugging percentage.
-- Slugging percentage usually takes up a larger percentage of OPS because slugging percentages are almost always higher than on-base percentages.

So in Morgan's case, his 68-point slugging difference in 1976 dramatically tilts his OPS (and gives him that huge OPS+ lead). And it also tends to down plays Morgan's 22 point OBP advantage in 1975. I'm babbling now. They were both great seasons. My formula finds that 1975 was better.

16. Willie Mays, 1962
17. Frank Robinson, 1962
18. Reggie Jackson, 1969
19. Barry Bonds, 1996
20. Barry Bonds, 2003

Reggie finished FIFTH in the MVP voting in 1969, and I'm still not exactly sure how that's possible. Well, actually, I am sure. I just spit on OPS a minute ago, but I should repeat that it's a very good thing that OPS has been accepted into the larger arena because it is still SO much better than just using batting average and basic counting stats that had been the core of baseball analysis for so many years. Harmon Killebrew won the MVP award in 1969, and you could certainly argue looking back that he had the best season (he did lead the league on on-base percentage) but that's probably not why he won. He probably won because he had 140 RBIs. If that same race happened today, writers might use OPS, OPS+ and slugging, and they would see that Reggie led in all three (then again they might not, the writers did vote for Justin Morneau last year -- ugh).

21. Will Clark, 1989
22. Jeff Bagwell, 1996
23. Willie McCovey, 1969
24. Joe Torre, 1971
25. Dick Allen, 1972

I was surprised to see Clark's season up here so high -- it wasn't in the Top 200 in my original list. But I think this proves again how flawed my original list was. In 1989, Clark hit .333/.407/.546 with 38 doubles, 9 triples, 23 homers in a lousy hitters' home park. The season belongs, I think

Joe Torre's season also wasn't on my original list, which does tell me something. Everyone here knows I love the advanced statistics, even though I don't understand half of them. I love playing with the numbers, and I harp all the time on the problems with batting average and RBIs, and I want to understand the context of everything. That said: I don't think I want to get so far away from it that I cannot appreciate a guy hitting .363 with 24 homers and 137 RBIs.

26. Rickey Henderson, 1990
27. Mike Piazza, 1997
28. Jose Canseco, 1988
29. Robin Yount, 1982
30. Ken Caminiti, 1996

All hail Jose Canseco's 1988 season -- .307/.391/.569, 42 homers, 124 RBIs, 120 runs, 40 stolen bases. I sure had a lot of Jose Canseco rookie cards back then. The Donruss ones especially.

31. Frank Thomas, 1997
32. Barry Bonds, 1990
33. Jason Giambi, 2001
34. Albert Belle, 1998
35. Dick Allen, 1964

One thing I like about this list is that it isn't so geared toward the huge power hitters of the post-strike era. I'm not sure that this list reflects reality better -- Giambi's 2001, for instance, may deserve to be a lot higher.

36. Joe Morgan, 1973
37. Willie Mays, 1964
38. Kevin Mitchell, 1989
39. Jason Giambi, 2000
40. Willie Mays, 1963

Hmm, my list puts Joe Morgan's 1973 season (.290/.406/.493, 26 homers, 82 RBIs, 116 runs, 67 steals) above his great 1976 season. I'm not sure I agree with that one. But it does tell you just what a dominant player he was in the mid-1970s.

41. Carl Yastrzemski, 1968
42. Albert Pujols, 2006
43. Joe Morgan, 1976
44. Mike Schmidt, 1974
45. Tony Gwynn, 1997

There's Mike Schmidt. One of the real problems of my other list was there wasn't a single Mike Schmidt season in the Top 100. That's just wrong. I'm surprised it's his 1974 season that ranks as his best (.282/.395/.546, 36 homers, 116 RBIs, 23 steals) but it was certainly an outstanding season. I wish George Brett's 1985 would have ranked higher, but hey, I didn't say the formula is perfect.

46. Rickey Henderson, 1985
47. Bobby Murcer, 1971
48. Hank Aaron, 1969
49. Albert Pujols, 2004
50. Joe Morgan, 1972

My biggest surprise was that Bobby Murcer made the list. It isn't that I have anything against Murcer, I just never thought of him having one of the best 50 seasons of the last 50 or so years. He hit .331/.427/.523 with 25 homers, 94 RBIs, 94 runs in a lousy hitting environment. Baseball Prospectus translates his stats to .352/.442/.621 with 32 homers, 107 RBIs 106 runs.

51. Rod Carew, 1977
52. Willie Mays, 1960
53. George Brett, 1985
54. Dave Parker, 1978
55. Mike Schmidt, 1980

There's Brett in '85. And there's Dave Parker's terrific 1978 season. You know, I've made this point before, but if Parker had not fallen off the cliff from 1981-84, he's probably in the Hall of Fame. Those four years (three and a half because of the '81 strike) he hit .275 with 43 homers and 185 RBIs in 440 games. These, of course, were the drug years for Parker.

The next two years in CIncinnati, he hit .292 with 65 homers and 241 RBIs in 322 games.

When you consider than Parker finished 288 hits shy of 3,000, 61 homers shy of 400 and 95 hits shy of a lifetime .300 average -- well, what could have been.

56. Ron Santo, 1964
57. Harmon Killebrew, 1967
58. Ryne Sandberg, 1984
59. Alex Rodriguez, 2000
60. Howard Johnson, 1989

Santo! Good to see him on this list, and he was terrific in 1964 (.313 average, 33 doubles, 13 triples, 30 homers, 114 RBIs, 164 OPS+). You know, we sometimes have discussions with Royals manager Buddy Bell about whether Santo should be in the Hall of Fame. Buddy says yes. I say yes. But the Star's excellent Royals writer and my friend Bob Dutton says no. In fact, he says quite emphatically: "Buddy ... YOU were a better player than Ron Santo." To which Buddy blushes.

Is it true? Was Bell better than Santo?

Santo: .277/.362/.464, 342 homers, 1331 RBIs, 1134 runs, 125 OPS+, 324 win shares, five Gold Gloves.
Bell: .279/.341/.406, 201 homers, 1106 RBIs, 1151 runs, 108 OPS+, 301 wins shares, six Gold Gloves.

No, by the stats, it seems Santo was better (even if Buddy was a better fielder). We should also take a look at home/road splits since Santo played in a brilliant hitters' park; Bell not so much.

Home
Santo: .296/.383/.522, 216 homers, 743 RBIs, 659 runs.
Bell: .285/.350/.411, 99 homers, 567 RBIs, 591 runs.

Well, that's a big difference. And on the road?

Santo: .257/.342/.406, 126 homers, 588 RBIs, 479 runs.
Bell: .274/.331/.401, 102 homers, 539 RBIs, 560 runs.

Hmm. I don't think you can say that Buddy Bell was better than Santo. But I'll say that's closer than I would have thought.

61. Alex Rodriguez, 2001
62. Jeff Bagwell, 1999
63. Craig Biggio, 1997
64. Frank Howard, 1968
65. Johnny Bench, 1972

Johnny Bench's 1972 should be higher because of his defense, I think.

66. Luis Gonzalez, 2001
67. Eddie Mathews, 1960
68. John Olerud, 1993
69. George Brett, 1980
70. Jeff Kent, 2000

George Brett's 1980 would have been higher except he only played in 117 games that season. My favorite line from that year came from umpire Steve Palermo who said Brett was so hot he could get down two strikes to God and still get a hit. I love quotes that add one extra layer of absurdity -- it's one thing to say Brett could get a hit off of God. But Steve had to add the two strikes part. It's like a few years ago, I was with a coach who saw Mike Sweeney taking ground balls, and he said: "You know, Mike Sweeney would rather face Nolan Ryan in a phone booth at midnight than have to field a tough ground ball." I liked the "at midnight" addition.

71. Carl Yastrzemski, 1970
72. Ken Griffey Jr., 1997
73. Barry Bonds, 1991
74. Roberto Alomar, 2001
75. Roger Maris, 1961

This remains one of my favorite baseball facts: Roger Maris was not intentionally walked one time in 1961.

76. Pete Rose, 1969
77. Larry Walker, 1997
78. Mike Schmidt, 1982
79. Carlos Delgado, 2000
80. Barry Bonds, 1997

Rose hit .348 with 33 doubles, 11 triples, 16 homers, 120 runs scored and he also on a Gold Glove.

81. Willie Stargell, 1973
82. Jim Rice, 1978
83. Gary Sheffield, 1996
84. Willie Mays, 1966
85. Rico Petrocelli, 1969

And there you go Jim Rice fans: There's his 1978 season. Please consider it my final gift to you. And how about Rico Petrocelli? He hit .297/.403/.589 with 40 homers.

86. Joe Morgan, 1974
87. Albert Pujols, 2005
88. Jeff Bagwell, 1994
89. Barry Larkin, 1996
90. Barry Bonds, 2000

I was a columnist in Cincinnati when Barry Larkin won the MVP award in 1995, and I remember thinking it wasn't a great choice. I thought Larkin was a terrific player, and I did think that he was a a steadying force for that team, but I guess I've always been a bit skeptical about people giving too much credit for leadership or what have you. And Larkin's basic stats in 1995, while good, were not what I had in mind when I thought of MVPs (.319, 15, 66, 98 runs scored). Looking back, it seems that Maddux could have been the MVP that year -- he did go 19-2 with a 1.63 ERA. I regrettably remember pushing Dante Bichette.

Anyway, the point is that in 1996, Larkin DID put up some serious MVP numbers: He hit .298/.410/.567 with 33 homers, 36 steals, 32 doubles, 117 runs scored. He won a Gold Glove. He was just as much of a leader (though, of course, the Reds weren't as good a team). And he finished 12th in the MVP voting.

One other thing about Larkin: He is the first guy that I watched live, day-in, day-out who always seemed to give you a good at-bat. With Larkin, you never worried about him coming up against a pitcher with control problems and popping up on the first pitch. He rarely struck out and never (as far as I can remember) struck out on a terrible pitch. He always seemed aware of the situation and what the team needed -- he just had a heightened awareness of the game. I'm not comparing the skills of the two players, but I think these are the same things people say now about Derek Jeter.

91. Barry Bonds, 1995
92. Mickey Mantle, 1962
93. Will Clark, 1988
94. Alan Trammell, 1987
95. George Foster, 1977

I'll ask the question one more time: If Trammell wins that 1987 MVP award that he so richly deserved, would voters consider him a more viable Hall of Fame candidate? ... Do you remember when George Foster hit those 52 homers in 1977? Having grown up in that environment where 30 homers was a monster year, that number almost seemed impossible.

Top 10 home run seasons of my baseball childhood (1973 to 1985):
1. George Foster, 1977, 52
2. Mike Schmidt, 1980, 48
3. Dave Kingman, 1979, 48
4. Jim Rice, 1978, 46
5. Mike Schmidt, 1979, 45
(tie) Gorman Thomas, 1979, 45
7. Willie Stargell, 1973, 44
8. Tony Armas, 1984, 43
9. Davey Johnson, 1973, 43
10. Darrell Evans, 1973, 41
(tie) Reggie Jackson, 1980, 41
(tie) Ben Oglivie, 1980, 41
(tie) Jeff Burroughs, 1977, 41

These were the larger than life people when I was growing up. Three of them -- Schmidt, Stargell and Reggie -- are in the Hall. Rice may go soon. The others didn't have Hall of Fame careers (maybe Evans did, but no voter thinks so) but they are still the monsters of my childhood.

96. Cal Ripken, 1984
97. Jim Thome, 2002
98. Jimmy Wynn, 1969
99. Tim Raines, 1985
100. Fred Lynn, 1979

We end with five personal favorite players. Thanks so much for reading this far (assuming you did) and thanks for reading the blog. I'll check back in from time to time, and, of course, I'm sure I'll be back promoting assuming I ever write that next book.