Hall of Fame Pyramid - Starting Pitchers, Part 1
May 13, 2019 12:15:44 GMT -5
Rich - Former GM, Texas Rangers, and 1 more like this
Post by sansterre - Milwaukee Brewers on May 13, 2019 12:15:44 GMT -5
I’ve discussed in some detail the system that we use to evaluate the careers of hitters. Pitchers are an entirely different game. Everyone more or less agrees on how to value hitting, and fielding, though less accurate, is also less important. With pitching there are four major ways of looking at contributions: RA9-Wins, fWAR and rWAR (WPA will come up in the reliever section). Each has its own philosophical assumptions that it rests on; each is better at a different thing. I want to talk about these in some detail because a lot of what we talk about here is how good these pitchers are; we determine that using these ideas so it’s important that they be understood. Before we talk about that though, I want to talk about BABIP and LOB% because they’re important to understand for the following. BABIP (Batting Average on Balls In Play) is basically the batting average hitters are getting when they put the ball in play (not counting home runs). With hitters, BABIP is definitely a skill, as it generally measures the quality of contact the batter is getting. For pitchers it is much less of a skill. Over a career hitters BABIP can be as high as 350 or as low as 250; for pitchers you’re looking at a range of 280 to 320 and usually it’s much more narrow than that. So most of the differences between pitchers year to year in BABIP is random noise, not skill. Over a career, you can usually rely on it as skill. LOB% is Left On Base percentage, the percent of baserunners that get stranded at the end of innings. Some of it is skill, some is defense, a lot of it is luck, but it obviously matters a ton for preventing runs. So if a pitcher has an unusually good (or bad) year, unusual BABIP and/or LOB% are what you look at first.
RA9-Wins (going forward we’ll refer to this as RAW for Runs Allowed WAR) is pretty much the most simplistic possible metric. It acts as though the pitcher controls *everything* as far as run prevention. If the pitcher allows 4 runs per 9 with the MLB’s best defense behind him in PNC Park? He gets credited with 4 runs per 9. If the pitcher allows 4 runs per 9 with the MLB’s worst defense behind him in Coors Field? 4 runs per 9. If he gives up 4 runs per 9 with hitters getting on with fluky texas leaguers and fielding errors? 4 runs per 9. If he gives up 4 runs per 9 with hitters crushing line drive after line drive? Still 4 runs per 9. You get the idea. On one hand, it captures exactly what happened. If RAW says that a pitcher is the best that year, as far as allowing runs that pitcher *was* the best. There’s never any riddling out why a pitcher got the RAW they did; it speaks for itself. So what’s the downside? Pretty much everything I just said. It misses most of the context of the performance (defense and park factors) and assumes that everything that happens is a byproduct of the pitcher’s skill or lack thereof. It’s a brute force stat, mostly useful for describing exactly what happened. (Generally Runs Allowed is more reliable than Earned Runs Allowed, so that’s why it’s RA9, not ERA9.)
fWAR (Fangraphs Wins Above Replacement) is the converse stat to RAW. It basically assumes that the pitcher controls *only* strikeouts, walks and home runs allowed. The upside of fWAR is that it cuts out almost all the noise (home runs allowed is a pretty volatile stat, but still fairly pitcher-controlled). It solves the question of how much of credit to give the pitcher for their BABIP and LOB% by ignoring it completely. Because it reduces most of the noise stats (BABIP and LOB%) fWAR is the most reliable for a single season as an indication of skill because there’s so little luck involved. The downside of fWAR is that it ignores things that pitchers do legitimately control (a little), BABIP, LOB%, wild pitches, balks, holding runners and pitching in the clutch. Over a season it’s often better to ignore those because they’re so noisy; over a career those things stabilize a lot. So for us fWAR is a sort of reality-check stat, but we’d rather not rely on it totally because it ignores a lot of stuff that we need to pay attention to over a career. In general if we’re awarding our ‘Pitcher of the Year’ award we’re doing it by fWAR because we want to reward the pitcher who demonstrated the most reliable skill.
rWAR (Baseball-Reference Wins Above Replacement) is halfway between the two. It starts with RA9, but adjusts it for the park and makes an estimated adjustment for how good the defense behind the pitcher was. So, basically, it assumes that the pitcher’s BABIP and LOB% are products of skill (or lack) but tries to compensate for the role of the park and the defense. Over a season it’s still prone to noise, so we usually like fWAR better for that, but for a career, rWAR is our preferred tool. It takes everything into account so nothing is missed, adjusts for context as well as it can, and its big weaknesses (that it includes noisy stats) is greatly diminished by the large sample sizes of entire careers.
All of these are built off the idea of WAR, Wins Above Replacement level. This is basically the amount of wins that player’s performance was worth over the average easily-available schlub the team could snag off of free agency or AAA. 2 WAR is about average, 4 WAR is borderline All-Star, 6 WAR is All-Star and probably one of the top 3 in your position in the league, 8 WAR is MVP-territory and 10+ WAR is historically fantastic.
I want to use some examples of these stats for players, just for context. Take Walter Johnson’s 1924 season. That year he led the league in: Wins, ERA, Starts, Shutouts, Strikeouts, FIP and WHIP. RAW credits this great performance as being worth 8.6 wins over replacement level, an excellent number (if not close to Johnson’s best). This rates as the best performance in the AL for the year. rWAR only gives him credit for only 6.8 Wins Above Replacement level, a respectable third in the AL. Why the difference? Part is Griffith stadium being a mild pitcher’s park, but much more than that, the Senators’ defense that year was by far the best in the MLB, something that Johnson benefited from greatly. fWAR credits Johnson with only 5.1 WAR that year (great pitchers before 1950 tend to have lower fWARs) and being the 2nd best pitcher in the league (Howard Ehmke struck out many fewer than Johnson, but pitched with more control, pitched 40 more innings and did so in hitter-friendly Fenway Park).
A different example, Wilbur Wood’s 1972 season for the White Sox. That year Wood went 24-17 with an ERA of 2.51, 2nd in the league. RAW rates that as worth 8.2 WAR. fWAR is less impressed (it usually is), only awarding 6.1 WAR. But rWAR loves that year for Wood, giving him credit for a 10.7 WAR season. Why? First, White Sox Park favored hitters. Second, the White Sox had the worst defense in the league, an astounding 65 runs below average. When you have an ERA of 2.51 in a hitters’ park with the league’s worst defense behind you? You deserve a lot of credit. Hopefully you get the idea.
To be clear, us referencing a pitcher’s wins or win-loss record as an indication of true skill is never going to happen. Wins are one of the most intuitively valuable stats in the game; it’s tragic then that their value is so questionable. First there’s the run-prevention angle, of which pitching is only 80% or so. Then there’s the fact that the starting pitcher doesn’t usually pitch the whole game (depending on era). So the starting pitcher is only 50-60% of run prevention, and almost 0% of run scoring, so they’re maybe 25-30% of the results of the entire game. Crediting them with wins or losses for something they don’t even control a third of is nonsense. Even if we’re looking at a workhouse who completed all of his games, he’s still at best maybe 40% of the game. A stat that’s only 40% controlled by the pitcher is pretty bad. And there’s a reason why so many pitchers had terrible records playing for bad teams and then suddenly transformed by playing for a good team. Red Ruffing went 39-93 with the Red Sox in the late 20s, then went to play for the Yankees and went 204-115 until the war. He was slightly better for the Yankees than Red Sox, but he didn’t overnight go from being terrible to being an ace; the Yankees had better fielding and way, way, way more run support. Anyhow. No mention of wins here except as flavor. You have been warned.
A few other stats: FIP- and ERA- are both stats that compare their FIP (the theoretical ERA built only out of strikeouts, walks and home runs allowed) and ERA to league average and turn it into a ratio. An ERA- of 100 is league average, higher is worse than league average, lower is better. In the 90s is decent, in the 80s is excellent, in the 70s is dominant and anything in the 60s is otherworldly.
And with that, Honorable Mention Starting Pitchers!
First up, Noodles Hahn! Born “Frank” but everyone called him Noodles since he was fairly young. As a 20 year-old left-hander he caught on with Cincinnati in 1899 and showed immediately why he belonged. He led the league in strikeouts and FIP, winning 23 games and also pitched the first no-hitter in the 20th century. Over his first six seasons Hahn was consistently one of the best starters in the National League. He was in the top three of rWAR five times, won our award for best pitcher in 1901, led the league in strikeouts three times, pitched 295+ innings each year, and never had a RAW below 7 wins. Few pitchers, ever, have started their careers so auspiciously. That said, Hahn had no illusions about his longevity; he knew that his arm could not sustain the workload it was being subjected to and prepared to segue into professional life. While gifted playing the piano, in 1903 he began studying to become a vet. By 1905, just age 26, he had arm trouble and could no longer pitch effectively. He became a government meat inspector, but when he had the chance, would go to the stadium and throw batting practice to the Reds. He continued sporadically working out with the team until he was 68. He rarely spoke about his playing days, and many young Reds players of the 20s and 30s were shocked to learn that the old guy that had been warming them up had once been the best left-hander in the league. At barely 2000 innings he has the second-lowest IP of any starter in this building, but his career FIP- and ERA- of 77 and 75 (respectively) which is on par with Christy Mathewson, albeit for a much shorter career.
First off, one of the many excellent pitchers for the turn-of-the-century Pirates teams, Jack Chesbro! “Happy Jack” started pitching for the Pirates in 1899 (age 25) and was one of the dominant arms on their pennant-winning 1901 and 1902 teams (7.4 and 8.5 RAW). Then the lure of more money was too great and Chesbro, along with Jesse Tannehill, jumped to the American League to play for the New York Highlanders. Chesbro was even better for the Highlanders, putting up 5.3 RAW and then an astounding 12.5 RAW in 1904 (that’s the season that he pitched 454 innings and won 41 games). By then he was 31 and put up decent years of 4, 3.7 and 2.6 RAW but was on his way out.
Chesbro was a strong pitcher with great control on his fastball through 1903. Around 1904 he started relying on a spitball almost exclusively (according to some he invented the pitch). His career K/BB was around 2, better than the average for his era which was around 1.4. Both his career FIP- and ERA- are 90, which is quite brought down by the worse years on either side of his career. At his peak his ERA- was in the 70s and FIP- in the 80s. He only pitched 2897 innings, but all of that was between ages 25 and 35. Chesbro is an excellent example of a deadball-era ace; very good during a narrow peak, short career with high RAW totals fueled by lots of innings per year. He is the fifth pitcher in our all-decade team for 1901-1910.
An aside, I wish Chesbro had been the Captain of the Highlanders. In fact, I wish that he insisted on always being called “Captain” Jack Chesbro. Let’s take it a step further; I have an image in my mind of Chesbro announcing that he was going to warm up, and an eager bat boy sprints over to the plate with a glove, saying “I’ll do it!” The manager intervenes of course, and Chesbro sends the kid off with a dramatic “This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught Captain . . . Jack . . . Chesbro!”
Nobody?
Anyhow . . .
A tragic story, Addie Joss! Joss started for the Cleveland Bronchos (soon to be the Naps) in 1902 at 22. Joss was an unusual pitcher who threw limited breaking pitches (and no spitters) because he valued consistency in his delivery. He had a curious windup that involved him turning his back to the hitter completely before turning it and delivering, keeping the batter from even glimpsing the ball until it was out of his hand. He rarely had K/9 higher than league average but Joss had incredible control (8 top fives in WHIP (and holds the lowest career WHIP ever record), 7 top tens in BB/9 with two led leagues each). He was assisted with his balls-in-play approach by an excellent defense (+22 runs/season), but even still he consistently boasted BABIPs much lower than his team. His ability to control his BABIP shows in the glaring difference in stats; his career FIP- is 87 (pretty good) but his ERA- is 70, which is epic.
Joss was regular as clockwork, posting RAWs above 5 every year from his rookie season, culminating from ages 25-28 with 6.0, 7.1, 8.0 and 9.5. In 1908 (the 9.5 year) he had an epic showdown with master spitballer Ed Walsh (who you’ll see later). At that time both leagues were having epic three-way pennant races that went down to the wire and in the AL two of the teams were Joss’ Naps and Walsh’s White Sox. On October 2nd, going into the eighth the Naps led 1-0 on an unearned run. Walsh had struck 15 batters out while walking one, where Joss had only struck out three and walking none. Walsh had allowed four hits, Joss none. The tension in the ballpark was described by one writer as "a mouse working his way along the grandstand floor would have sounded like a shovel scraping over concrete." In the ninth Joss managed to make it through the last inning without surrendering a hit, getting the win and pitching only the second perfect game in MLB history. Joss characteristically deflected praise, saying that without the incredible fielding of the team behind him he’d never have gotten close.
Joss struggled with ailments through much of his career. In 1911 he was really struggling, collapsing on the field at one point, and doctors diverged on what was causing the issues. Ultimately he received a lumbar puncture and tested positive for tubercular meningitis. The disease had spread to his brain and he was dead the next day, at age 31. Joss, much beloved, received flowers and wreaths from all over the country. The Naps refused to play their game against the Tigers so they could attend the funeral and even Ban Johnson, epic controlling tyrant that he was, supported the request. On July 24 of that year the Naps hosted a charity All-Star game, playing a team of stars from other franchises to raise money for Joss’ family. Visiting club players who were involved in the game included Home Run Baker, Ty Cobb, Eddie Collins, Sam Crawford, Walter Johnson, Tris Speaker, and Smokey Joe Wood. The Naps lost 3-5 and generated $350,000 (inflation adjusted) for the cause. Without his tragic death there’s no doubt that Joss would have made Bronze or better. As it was he only pitched 8ish seasons with only 2327 innings. A tragedy, and a great pitcher.
With a career similar to Noodles Hahn, Nap Rucker! Both pitchers pitched for less than 2500 career innings, both were lefties and both pitched for generally bad teams. Rucker was a change-of-pace pitcher for Brooklyn (Superbas, then Dodgers, then Superbas again, then Robins) who started his career (in 1907 at 22) mixing between his blazing fastball and his drop curve. Quickly Rucker worked on mastering the knuckleball and used it to devastating effect, saving it for key moments. John McGraw said that he had the “most aggravating delivery” of all the slow-ball pitchers and that his knuckleball seemed to “hang in the air as though a string was tied to it”. Don’t let his use of the knuckleball fool you; he was one of the best strikeout pitchers of his day finishing in the top ten of K/9 six different times.
fWAR doesn’t seem him as dominant, never breaking 5 in a season, but both RAW and rWAR see him breaking five wins five times, and eight wins twice (best in the NL both years). Much of this is tied to his BABIP and LOB%; Brooklyn’s starters including Rucker averaged a BABIP of 273 and LOB% of 68% from 1907 to 1913. Rucker averaged 269 and 73.3%. The four points of BABIP isn’t such a big deal, but a LOB% five percent higher than your team very much is. Rucker was excellent at stranding baserunners; fWAR misses that. By the time he was 29, in 1914, Rucker’s arm was shot (having thrown five straight 295+ innings seasons) and while he was able to fall back on his knuckler, he would only have two and a half mediocre years left in the majors.
Almost no pitchers will see such a discrepancy between their reputation and their numbers, Mordecai, “Three Finger” Brown! His name is not particularly original; due to a farming accident growing up he had his index finger and the end of his pinky amputated. Perhaps this grip helped him, as his was considered the finest overhand curve of his era. He had an excellent fastball and remarkable changeup but his curve was considered his best pitch. Brown didn’t break into the majors until 26 and didn’t catch on with the Cubs until 27 (in 1904). His use by manager/first baseman Frank Chance was interesting; despite the fact that Brown quickly established himself as the best pitcher on the team he was worked relatively little for the era. For his first three years he only had 24, 32 and 27 starts, all seasons below 300 IP. Part of this was due to the depth of the Cubs’ rotation, but the rest was because of Chance’s preferred habit of using Brown as a reliever in important games. This habit of protecting Brown’s workload paid dividends; much of Brown’s legend is tied to great matchups in the postseason with Christy Mathewson that Brown usually won. It didn’t hurt that Brown routinely pitched 50 innings a season less than Mathewson and so was always more rested.
While he was a capable strikeout pitcher (four top tens in K/9) he was more known for his excellent control (eight top tens in BB/9). During his peak (ages 28-34, 1905-1911) he finished in the top five of FIP every single year, leading the league once. rWAR has him with four top five finishes, with two 2nd places (both above 9 rWAR). But if you look at his direct stats, they’re a lot more impressive. He led the league in WHIP three times, finished in the top five of ERA seven times, finished #1 in RAW twice and had three different 10+ RAW seasons. What’s the cause of this difference? If you remember the stat talk at the beginning of the section, or anything about the Cubs in the 1900s you can probably guess. The Cubs were the best fielding team of the decade, saving 30-40 runs every year with their gloves. For his career, Brown had the 3rd lowest BABIP in the league, but would you believe that #1 and #4 also pitched for the Cubs? He had the 6th best LOB% in the league for that time; would you believe that #2, 4 and 5 also pitched for the Cubs? Brown allowed a mere 253 BABIP during his time with the Cubs. Would you believe that the Cubs average BABIP for that time was 255? He stranded an impressive 72.4% of runners; would you believe that the Cubs averaged 71.4%?
Here’s the moral of the story. He was a great pitcher in his peak; fWAR gives him four 5+ seasons with one above 7. His career FIP- of 83 is respectable (in terms of IP and FIP- he’s very comparable to Bruce Pinnock). But he played on a great set of teams with great fielding, and these combined to giving him a lot of wins and ERAs that were fantastic. Brown was a really good pitcher, but the defense behind him made him look great (his closest comp between IP and ERA-, basically who he’d be as good as if his fielding-assisted numbers were all him, is Dino Williamson). Had he broken into the majors earlier, had he figured it out earlier and not pitched his entire career after the age of 26, he would certainly have made Bronze. Brown was great in his peak, an important part of the league’s history. But he wasn’t as good as he seemed at the time.
The worst of the three great pitchers for the deadball-era Athletics, Chief Bender! Albert Bender was half Chippewa Indian and, in the argot of the times, was referred to as “Chief” for most of his career. Before, say, 1920, it was pretty common for Native Americans to be named “Chief”, deaf/mute players to be named “Dummy”, moral men or those with religious backgrounds to be “Deacon”, country hicks to be “Rube” and occasionally lefties to be named “Lefty”. It was what it was. For his part Bender took the cognomen without complaint, often responding to jeers with smiles. Bender broke in with the Athletics in 1903 at age 19 and established himself quickly as a gifted hurler.
Bender is often credited as the inventor of the slider and, while it is uncertain how true this, he certainly appears to be the first to master the ‘fast curve’. He also threw a changeup (or possibly a knuckler, depending on your source) that he could throw with the exact same motion as his fastball. He struggled with his control early on but had great stuff throughout, pitching for the A’s until age 30 (1914) before jumping to the Federal League for a year. He was no workhorse, only once pitching more than 250 innings, but he was consistently excellent, with seven seasons of 4+ RAW, culminating in his age 25-27 stretch when he was worth 5.8, 7.2 and 6.9 RAW. He had ten seasons with K/9 in the top ten, six where his BB/9 were in the top ten, ten seasons for K/BB and five seasons in the top ten for RAW. He was very good, but he was never as dominant as Rube Waddell, never as controlled as Eddie Plank (his rotation-mates in Philadelphia). Bender was accounted by his roomate as one of the kindest men he’d ever met, and by Ty Cobb as the most intelligent pitcher he’d faced. Not bad references.
Let’s move forward a decade, to a lefty hurler named James “Hippo” Vaughn! Vaughn doesn’t get a lot of love historically because his won-loss record isn’t great, but then again, he played for a lot of bad teams. He was called “Hippo” because he was 6’4” and 240 lbs, and this from an era where the average man was three inches shorter. Basically picture a thin NFL defensive end and that was Vaughn. He broke in with the Highlanders in 1910 at age 22 and had serious stuff (averaging 5 K/9 when league average was around 4) but struggled some with control. The Highlanders sold him to the Senators after a few years, who in turn sold him to a minor league team (remember, minor leagues were separate at this point, not subordinates). By 1914 (age 26) he was back in the majors with the Cubs and from there on out he pitched excellently.
He pitched 250+ innings every year for the Cubs through age 32, retaining his excellent stuff and bringing his walks/9 way down. His best year was 1918 when he led the league in ERA, FIP, Wins, Strikeouts, Shutouts, IP, K/BB, WHIP . . . it was a good year (8.6 RAW). On the back of his performance the Cubs won the Pennant, though fell to the Ruth-led Red Sox in 6. The loss could not be laid at his feet; he pitched three complete games, struck out 17 in 27 innings (walking 5) and allowing three runs. The Cubs only won one of those three games. By the time he retired Vaughn had an impressive set of top tens: HRA/9 (5), K/BB (7, one led league), strikeouts (7, led league twice), shutouts (8, led league once) and RAW (top 6 six times, led league once). Considered the hardest throwing lefty in the league, at his peak (which curiously was in his late 20s/early 30s) Vaughn was excellent. Consider this quote from Pete Alexander (who you’ll meet many floors up): “Big Jim Vaughn used to pitch the particular kind of ball a batter liked best, just to show him that he couldn’t hit it. Nothing pleased him better than to strike a man out pitching to his strength.” He’s our #4 pitcher of 1910-1919 for a reason folks.
A considerably less famous Babe than Ruth, Babe Adams! Adams had a very strange career arc. As with many pitchers he didn’t have an effective starting role in the majors until 27 (1909), pitching well for the 1909 Pirates in spots. Over the next six years (until 1915, age 33) he pitched very well for the Pirates, with five different seasons at 3.7 rWAR or above, including a 6.3 and an 8.3. Then, in 1916, he had arm trouble and was ultimately cut by the Pirates. In a normal career arc, that’d be it and he’d not come close to Honorable Mention. Buuuuuut . . .
He rested his shoulder most of the 1916 season, then over the winter, then signed on with a minor league team, where he pitched fantastically. In 1918, with a number of players being drafted for service in World War I, older viable players like Adams became desirable and the Pirates re-signed him toward the end of the season. In 1919 the 37 year-old Adams, much to everyone’s surprise, had one of his best years, leading the league in BB/9 without losing much in the way of stuff. In fact Adams, from ages 37 through 40, led the league in BB/9 every year and still put up high enough K/9 to be an excellent pitcher (a 7.4 and a 6.0 rWAR year). By 39 he couldn’t start more than 25 games a year, and by 40 his K/9 had dropped to the point where his control kept him only good, in the 3 WAR area. He retired in 1926, at the age of 44. He only had two pitches, a fastball and a curve, but he knew how to place them just right. One of the best control pitchers of his era.
Speaking of Pirates’ pitchers from the teens and 20s, say hi to Wilbur Cooper! Cooper had a career arc so stable that it’s reminiscent of a hitter. He joined the Pirates in 1912 at age 20, but didn’t pitch more than 100 innings until he was 22. His next two years were decent and by 24-25 he had it figured out. Cooper was never dominant but was consistently good. fWAR has him with seven seasons at 4+ WAR and three seasons in the 5s. rWAR has him with the same seven seasons at 4+ WAR, but it credits him with a 5, two 6s and a 7. His top tens continue the story of a pitcher who was not dominant at anything but was generally quality: K/9 (four), BB/9 (six), HRA/9 (four), innings pitched (eight), FIP (five), ERA+ (seven) and rWAR (eight, led league once). Cooper relied on his standard three pitches (fastball, change, curve) until age 32 (1924) when he went to play with the Cubs. He was not at his old level of performance and age 34 was his last season in the majors. He remains as our top NL pitcher of 1922 (both in fWAR and rWAR) and was a strong pitcher for a strong franchise.
Another life cut short, Urban Shocker! It sounds like it would be a nickname but Urban was actually his given name (there were multiple Popes named Urban, who knew?). When the spitball was outlawed in the 1920s pitchers already throwing it were grandfathered in, and Shocker became one of the last pitchers to make use of it. While he used the threat of it as a frequent ploy, he threw very few, relying far more on his fastball and curve. Ed Walsh, perhaps best spitballer of the era, accounted Shocker a great pitcher, but not a great thrower of the spitball.
In any case Shocker, as is not uncommon, took a long time to master his craft, not actually making the majors full-time until 1919 (age 28) for the St. Louis Browns. His K/9 and BB/9 during his peak, ages 28-33) were 3.6 and 2.0 respectively, which look weak until you realize how much the rule changes of the early 20s hurt pitching. The average for his time was about 2.88 for each, with a K/BB of 1. By comparison, Shocker was a quality strikeout pitcher with good control. He consistently outperformed his league and his team, having lower BABIP and stranding more runners than his defense would suggest. His career ERA- is 81, an excellent score, and his RAW numbers are very good, with nine seasons above 4.2 RAW, including a 7.3 and an 8.9. He had seven different years in the top ten for rWAR in his league, leading it once. After his time with the Browns, at age 34 he came back to the Yankees and had several good years. His career is right on the cusp of Bronze but not quite there. It is a shame that he didn’t figure it out until 28; everything from then to 36 is excellent. On a personal note, Shocker had a serious heart defect and according to some sources could not sleep lying down. By mid 1927 he was too ill to start regularly, and died of heart failure at age 38.
Perhaps more famous for what he didn’t do, Red Faber! Urban Faber (he got the nickname because his hair was red; nicknames in the first few decades of the century were highly original) was a spitball pitcher for the White Sox, pitching from 1914-1933 (ages 25-44). He did not use the spitball on every pitch (he also had a curve and two-seamer) but his spitter was considered one of the best of the era. Instead of spitting on the ball he’d instead only moiston the ends of his index and middle fingers. To add to the effectiveness of the pitch he not only developed multiple arm angles for the pitch but also, depending on how he chose to release and grip the pitch, he could vary the direction and length of the break. Ty Cobb considered Faber one of the hardest pitchers to hit, and Goose Goslin, when asked how to make contact with Faber’s spitball he responded, “Just close your eyes, swing, and pray for contact”. (By the way, isn’t it interesting how 80% of every story in the form “this pitcher was good because this one great hitter said they were a real challenge to face” seems to feature Cobb if the pitcher in question pitched between 1908 and 1925? I don’t know if that should be read as Cobb being a more generous soul than he’s been given credit for, or Cobb being the most respected batter of his time.)
Faber was decent for his first several years (1915-1917) but in 1918 he was conscripted into the Army until the end of the war, and in 1919 he battled with the flu (perhaps the Spanish Influenza that swept the world in that year), lost a ton of weight and pitched little, missing the infamous World Series. It was considered by White Sox catcher Ray Schalk that if Faber had been healthy the fix could never have taken place, that Faber would never have agreed to such a thing and the fix was only viable because both primary pitchers would be in on it. Whatever else may be true, Faber came back from the Flu and pitched better than he ever had before. From 1920 to 1920 to 1922 he pitched superbly. His fWARs for those seasons aren’t incredible (4.8, 5.6, 6.8) but fWAR is missing the fact that over those thousand innings Faber’s BABIP was an astounding 28 points lower than his team’s, and his LOB% an equally astounding 6.1% lower. It’s not that he was striking tons of batters out (he wasn’t), it’s not that his control was dominant (I mean, it was pretty good), it was that *nobody* could hit him cleanly. He had the 2nd lowest BABIP and the 2nd highest LOB% in baseball over those three years. rWAR grades those seasons at 5.7, 11.3 and 9.3, RAW sees them as 6.8, 12.1 and 9.9. And though fWAR doesn’t see him as being the best in any one year, it sees him as the best in baseball over those three years.
By the end of this span he was 34 and everything had started to go. His strikeouts dropped, his walks rose and batters started to be able to make decent contact with his stuff. He was still decent (he did continue pitching in the majors until he was 44), but the rest of his career was unremarkable (aside from its length), with five seasons in the 3-rWAR range but nothing better. Faber was a decent pitcher for 17 years of his 20-year career, but for three years (curiously the years where the balance of power swung to hitters) he was the best in baseball.
Not a nickname, Eppa Rixey! Rixey was born a southern aristocrat. While he enjoyed pitching he had a bachelor’s degree in Chemistry and intended to go into that profession. Only when the economy took a downturn in 1912, his father’s bank took a hit and his brother was struggling to pay tuition at Virginia did the appeal of quick money playing professional baseball become appealing. Even during his career he’d come back to UVA to finish two masters degrees (Chemistry and Latin), and in the winter he taught Latin at a high school in DC. While Rixey had little in common, socially, with his teammates his willingness to stand his ground when hazed earned their respect, and there are few stories of him being alienated from his team, or vice versa.
At 6’5’’ Rixey was the tallest lefty in the league at the time. He came up with the Phillies in 1912 (age 21), with good stuff but struggling with control. After years of issues with the Phillies’ managers he was traded to the Reds in 1921 (age 30). In Cincinnati and with manager Pat Moran, Rixey would find an ideal situation. Moran favored excellent fielders and pitchers who gave up nothing (home runs or walks) and pitched to contact. Rixey, brainy but not overpowering, made the adjustments immediately. Known for throwing many pitches a game and for operating into deep counts without fear, Rixey would constantly try and bait hitters into weak contact. His top tens trace a decent arc for his career: HRA/9 (eleven, led league three times), BB/9 (six, all after being traded to Cincinnati), K/9 (four, all before being traded to Cincinnati), FIP (eleven, nine of which in Cincy) and rWAR (nine, led league once). Rixey was never dominating but he made few mistakes and never let hitters beat him. My favorite quote of his: “How dumb can hitters in this league get? I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. When they’re batting with the count two balls and no strikes, or three and one, they’re always looking for the fastball. And they *never* get it.”
Less dominator than compiler, Burleigh Grimes! He’s the first pitcher so far to have what now might be considered a normal career, coming on in 1917 for the Pirates (age 23) and pitching deep into his late 30s. A workhorse, he broke 300+ innings five times (leading the league thrice), and pitching over 4000 innings over his career. He is definitively the last pitcher to (legally) use the spitball, and he used it to solid effect, with eight seasons in the top ten of K/9. He was very good but not often dominant, only breaking 4+ RAW seven times and having no seasons above 7. His main weakness was his control, which was still better than average but he still had nine top tens in most walks allowed (on account of his innings pitched as much as anything). Grimes was not accounted a pleasant individual on game day, being one of the few pitchers to actually throw at a batter while he was still in the on-deck circle . . .
One of the few pitchers to be used as a pinch-hitter, as well as one of the few to intentionally walk a batter to pitch to Babe Ruth, George Uhle! Uhle was a precocious pitcher, joining the Indians at 20 (1919) and impressing from the start. He had a few rough seasons until he learned that he was tipping his pitches; after that he settled down. Uhle was an exceptional hitter for a pitcher; in 1512 plate appearances he hit 289/339/384, contributing ten wins with his bat over the average pitcher. As a pitcher Uhle relied on a fastball and curve and late in his career developed an effective slider (some even credit him with inventing the pitch). His top tens reveal no dominant trait: K/9 (three times), BB/9 (four times), HRA/9 (five times) and rWAR (five times, led league once).
Oh that Babe Ruth story I mentioned? Well, the Indians are playing the Yankees, there are two outs, a man on second, Mark Koenig at the plate and Ruth on deck. Uhle started throwing obvious balls so manager Tris Speaker called time and ran in from centerfield. Uhle explained that he wanted Koenig on base to set up the force at second. When Speaker pointed out that doing so would bring Ruth up Uhle dismissed it, saying that he had it under control. Uhle walked Koenig and brought Ruth up. Ruth, infuriated to have been feared so little, flushed with color and stomped to the plate, swinging angrily. Uhle threw two curves that Ruth fouled off, then nibbled around the plate until the count was 3-2. With the full count Uhle reared back and threw a perfect curve, the kind that looked in the zone until it wasn’t. Ruth swung, then tried to hold up but went around and was called out on strikes. Speaker congratulated Uhle in a manner evoking Lou Brown, “That was terrific . . . Never try it again.” Of all the pitchers to face Ruth at least a hundred times, Uhle was the second best at stopping him, holding the Babe to a slugging percentage of only 429 (compare with Ruth’s career average of 690). Interestingly, Red Faber was #1 on that list. Uhle saved his best stuff for when it mattered most. As a pitcher his career is just below Honorable Mention; his bat puts him over the top.
You know, I think I’m full on pitchers right now; do you know that there are fifty-five different Honorable Mention Starting Pitchers? That’s why we have these little Ikea-style shortcuts. Why don’t we step through here, take a tour through the history of the 20s and then cut back through to the next set?
RA9-Wins (going forward we’ll refer to this as RAW for Runs Allowed WAR) is pretty much the most simplistic possible metric. It acts as though the pitcher controls *everything* as far as run prevention. If the pitcher allows 4 runs per 9 with the MLB’s best defense behind him in PNC Park? He gets credited with 4 runs per 9. If the pitcher allows 4 runs per 9 with the MLB’s worst defense behind him in Coors Field? 4 runs per 9. If he gives up 4 runs per 9 with hitters getting on with fluky texas leaguers and fielding errors? 4 runs per 9. If he gives up 4 runs per 9 with hitters crushing line drive after line drive? Still 4 runs per 9. You get the idea. On one hand, it captures exactly what happened. If RAW says that a pitcher is the best that year, as far as allowing runs that pitcher *was* the best. There’s never any riddling out why a pitcher got the RAW they did; it speaks for itself. So what’s the downside? Pretty much everything I just said. It misses most of the context of the performance (defense and park factors) and assumes that everything that happens is a byproduct of the pitcher’s skill or lack thereof. It’s a brute force stat, mostly useful for describing exactly what happened. (Generally Runs Allowed is more reliable than Earned Runs Allowed, so that’s why it’s RA9, not ERA9.)
fWAR (Fangraphs Wins Above Replacement) is the converse stat to RAW. It basically assumes that the pitcher controls *only* strikeouts, walks and home runs allowed. The upside of fWAR is that it cuts out almost all the noise (home runs allowed is a pretty volatile stat, but still fairly pitcher-controlled). It solves the question of how much of credit to give the pitcher for their BABIP and LOB% by ignoring it completely. Because it reduces most of the noise stats (BABIP and LOB%) fWAR is the most reliable for a single season as an indication of skill because there’s so little luck involved. The downside of fWAR is that it ignores things that pitchers do legitimately control (a little), BABIP, LOB%, wild pitches, balks, holding runners and pitching in the clutch. Over a season it’s often better to ignore those because they’re so noisy; over a career those things stabilize a lot. So for us fWAR is a sort of reality-check stat, but we’d rather not rely on it totally because it ignores a lot of stuff that we need to pay attention to over a career. In general if we’re awarding our ‘Pitcher of the Year’ award we’re doing it by fWAR because we want to reward the pitcher who demonstrated the most reliable skill.
rWAR (Baseball-Reference Wins Above Replacement) is halfway between the two. It starts with RA9, but adjusts it for the park and makes an estimated adjustment for how good the defense behind the pitcher was. So, basically, it assumes that the pitcher’s BABIP and LOB% are products of skill (or lack) but tries to compensate for the role of the park and the defense. Over a season it’s still prone to noise, so we usually like fWAR better for that, but for a career, rWAR is our preferred tool. It takes everything into account so nothing is missed, adjusts for context as well as it can, and its big weaknesses (that it includes noisy stats) is greatly diminished by the large sample sizes of entire careers.
All of these are built off the idea of WAR, Wins Above Replacement level. This is basically the amount of wins that player’s performance was worth over the average easily-available schlub the team could snag off of free agency or AAA. 2 WAR is about average, 4 WAR is borderline All-Star, 6 WAR is All-Star and probably one of the top 3 in your position in the league, 8 WAR is MVP-territory and 10+ WAR is historically fantastic.
I want to use some examples of these stats for players, just for context. Take Walter Johnson’s 1924 season. That year he led the league in: Wins, ERA, Starts, Shutouts, Strikeouts, FIP and WHIP. RAW credits this great performance as being worth 8.6 wins over replacement level, an excellent number (if not close to Johnson’s best). This rates as the best performance in the AL for the year. rWAR only gives him credit for only 6.8 Wins Above Replacement level, a respectable third in the AL. Why the difference? Part is Griffith stadium being a mild pitcher’s park, but much more than that, the Senators’ defense that year was by far the best in the MLB, something that Johnson benefited from greatly. fWAR credits Johnson with only 5.1 WAR that year (great pitchers before 1950 tend to have lower fWARs) and being the 2nd best pitcher in the league (Howard Ehmke struck out many fewer than Johnson, but pitched with more control, pitched 40 more innings and did so in hitter-friendly Fenway Park).
A different example, Wilbur Wood’s 1972 season for the White Sox. That year Wood went 24-17 with an ERA of 2.51, 2nd in the league. RAW rates that as worth 8.2 WAR. fWAR is less impressed (it usually is), only awarding 6.1 WAR. But rWAR loves that year for Wood, giving him credit for a 10.7 WAR season. Why? First, White Sox Park favored hitters. Second, the White Sox had the worst defense in the league, an astounding 65 runs below average. When you have an ERA of 2.51 in a hitters’ park with the league’s worst defense behind you? You deserve a lot of credit. Hopefully you get the idea.
To be clear, us referencing a pitcher’s wins or win-loss record as an indication of true skill is never going to happen. Wins are one of the most intuitively valuable stats in the game; it’s tragic then that their value is so questionable. First there’s the run-prevention angle, of which pitching is only 80% or so. Then there’s the fact that the starting pitcher doesn’t usually pitch the whole game (depending on era). So the starting pitcher is only 50-60% of run prevention, and almost 0% of run scoring, so they’re maybe 25-30% of the results of the entire game. Crediting them with wins or losses for something they don’t even control a third of is nonsense. Even if we’re looking at a workhouse who completed all of his games, he’s still at best maybe 40% of the game. A stat that’s only 40% controlled by the pitcher is pretty bad. And there’s a reason why so many pitchers had terrible records playing for bad teams and then suddenly transformed by playing for a good team. Red Ruffing went 39-93 with the Red Sox in the late 20s, then went to play for the Yankees and went 204-115 until the war. He was slightly better for the Yankees than Red Sox, but he didn’t overnight go from being terrible to being an ace; the Yankees had better fielding and way, way, way more run support. Anyhow. No mention of wins here except as flavor. You have been warned.
A few other stats: FIP- and ERA- are both stats that compare their FIP (the theoretical ERA built only out of strikeouts, walks and home runs allowed) and ERA to league average and turn it into a ratio. An ERA- of 100 is league average, higher is worse than league average, lower is better. In the 90s is decent, in the 80s is excellent, in the 70s is dominant and anything in the 60s is otherworldly.
And with that, Honorable Mention Starting Pitchers!
First up, Noodles Hahn! Born “Frank” but everyone called him Noodles since he was fairly young. As a 20 year-old left-hander he caught on with Cincinnati in 1899 and showed immediately why he belonged. He led the league in strikeouts and FIP, winning 23 games and also pitched the first no-hitter in the 20th century. Over his first six seasons Hahn was consistently one of the best starters in the National League. He was in the top three of rWAR five times, won our award for best pitcher in 1901, led the league in strikeouts three times, pitched 295+ innings each year, and never had a RAW below 7 wins. Few pitchers, ever, have started their careers so auspiciously. That said, Hahn had no illusions about his longevity; he knew that his arm could not sustain the workload it was being subjected to and prepared to segue into professional life. While gifted playing the piano, in 1903 he began studying to become a vet. By 1905, just age 26, he had arm trouble and could no longer pitch effectively. He became a government meat inspector, but when he had the chance, would go to the stadium and throw batting practice to the Reds. He continued sporadically working out with the team until he was 68. He rarely spoke about his playing days, and many young Reds players of the 20s and 30s were shocked to learn that the old guy that had been warming them up had once been the best left-hander in the league. At barely 2000 innings he has the second-lowest IP of any starter in this building, but his career FIP- and ERA- of 77 and 75 (respectively) which is on par with Christy Mathewson, albeit for a much shorter career.
First off, one of the many excellent pitchers for the turn-of-the-century Pirates teams, Jack Chesbro! “Happy Jack” started pitching for the Pirates in 1899 (age 25) and was one of the dominant arms on their pennant-winning 1901 and 1902 teams (7.4 and 8.5 RAW). Then the lure of more money was too great and Chesbro, along with Jesse Tannehill, jumped to the American League to play for the New York Highlanders. Chesbro was even better for the Highlanders, putting up 5.3 RAW and then an astounding 12.5 RAW in 1904 (that’s the season that he pitched 454 innings and won 41 games). By then he was 31 and put up decent years of 4, 3.7 and 2.6 RAW but was on his way out.
Chesbro was a strong pitcher with great control on his fastball through 1903. Around 1904 he started relying on a spitball almost exclusively (according to some he invented the pitch). His career K/BB was around 2, better than the average for his era which was around 1.4. Both his career FIP- and ERA- are 90, which is quite brought down by the worse years on either side of his career. At his peak his ERA- was in the 70s and FIP- in the 80s. He only pitched 2897 innings, but all of that was between ages 25 and 35. Chesbro is an excellent example of a deadball-era ace; very good during a narrow peak, short career with high RAW totals fueled by lots of innings per year. He is the fifth pitcher in our all-decade team for 1901-1910.
An aside, I wish Chesbro had been the Captain of the Highlanders. In fact, I wish that he insisted on always being called “Captain” Jack Chesbro. Let’s take it a step further; I have an image in my mind of Chesbro announcing that he was going to warm up, and an eager bat boy sprints over to the plate with a glove, saying “I’ll do it!” The manager intervenes of course, and Chesbro sends the kid off with a dramatic “This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught Captain . . . Jack . . . Chesbro!”
Nobody?
Anyhow . . .
A tragic story, Addie Joss! Joss started for the Cleveland Bronchos (soon to be the Naps) in 1902 at 22. Joss was an unusual pitcher who threw limited breaking pitches (and no spitters) because he valued consistency in his delivery. He had a curious windup that involved him turning his back to the hitter completely before turning it and delivering, keeping the batter from even glimpsing the ball until it was out of his hand. He rarely had K/9 higher than league average but Joss had incredible control (8 top fives in WHIP (and holds the lowest career WHIP ever record), 7 top tens in BB/9 with two led leagues each). He was assisted with his balls-in-play approach by an excellent defense (+22 runs/season), but even still he consistently boasted BABIPs much lower than his team. His ability to control his BABIP shows in the glaring difference in stats; his career FIP- is 87 (pretty good) but his ERA- is 70, which is epic.
Joss was regular as clockwork, posting RAWs above 5 every year from his rookie season, culminating from ages 25-28 with 6.0, 7.1, 8.0 and 9.5. In 1908 (the 9.5 year) he had an epic showdown with master spitballer Ed Walsh (who you’ll see later). At that time both leagues were having epic three-way pennant races that went down to the wire and in the AL two of the teams were Joss’ Naps and Walsh’s White Sox. On October 2nd, going into the eighth the Naps led 1-0 on an unearned run. Walsh had struck 15 batters out while walking one, where Joss had only struck out three and walking none. Walsh had allowed four hits, Joss none. The tension in the ballpark was described by one writer as "a mouse working his way along the grandstand floor would have sounded like a shovel scraping over concrete." In the ninth Joss managed to make it through the last inning without surrendering a hit, getting the win and pitching only the second perfect game in MLB history. Joss characteristically deflected praise, saying that without the incredible fielding of the team behind him he’d never have gotten close.
Joss struggled with ailments through much of his career. In 1911 he was really struggling, collapsing on the field at one point, and doctors diverged on what was causing the issues. Ultimately he received a lumbar puncture and tested positive for tubercular meningitis. The disease had spread to his brain and he was dead the next day, at age 31. Joss, much beloved, received flowers and wreaths from all over the country. The Naps refused to play their game against the Tigers so they could attend the funeral and even Ban Johnson, epic controlling tyrant that he was, supported the request. On July 24 of that year the Naps hosted a charity All-Star game, playing a team of stars from other franchises to raise money for Joss’ family. Visiting club players who were involved in the game included Home Run Baker, Ty Cobb, Eddie Collins, Sam Crawford, Walter Johnson, Tris Speaker, and Smokey Joe Wood. The Naps lost 3-5 and generated $350,000 (inflation adjusted) for the cause. Without his tragic death there’s no doubt that Joss would have made Bronze or better. As it was he only pitched 8ish seasons with only 2327 innings. A tragedy, and a great pitcher.
With a career similar to Noodles Hahn, Nap Rucker! Both pitchers pitched for less than 2500 career innings, both were lefties and both pitched for generally bad teams. Rucker was a change-of-pace pitcher for Brooklyn (Superbas, then Dodgers, then Superbas again, then Robins) who started his career (in 1907 at 22) mixing between his blazing fastball and his drop curve. Quickly Rucker worked on mastering the knuckleball and used it to devastating effect, saving it for key moments. John McGraw said that he had the “most aggravating delivery” of all the slow-ball pitchers and that his knuckleball seemed to “hang in the air as though a string was tied to it”. Don’t let his use of the knuckleball fool you; he was one of the best strikeout pitchers of his day finishing in the top ten of K/9 six different times.
fWAR doesn’t seem him as dominant, never breaking 5 in a season, but both RAW and rWAR see him breaking five wins five times, and eight wins twice (best in the NL both years). Much of this is tied to his BABIP and LOB%; Brooklyn’s starters including Rucker averaged a BABIP of 273 and LOB% of 68% from 1907 to 1913. Rucker averaged 269 and 73.3%. The four points of BABIP isn’t such a big deal, but a LOB% five percent higher than your team very much is. Rucker was excellent at stranding baserunners; fWAR misses that. By the time he was 29, in 1914, Rucker’s arm was shot (having thrown five straight 295+ innings seasons) and while he was able to fall back on his knuckler, he would only have two and a half mediocre years left in the majors.
Almost no pitchers will see such a discrepancy between their reputation and their numbers, Mordecai, “Three Finger” Brown! His name is not particularly original; due to a farming accident growing up he had his index finger and the end of his pinky amputated. Perhaps this grip helped him, as his was considered the finest overhand curve of his era. He had an excellent fastball and remarkable changeup but his curve was considered his best pitch. Brown didn’t break into the majors until 26 and didn’t catch on with the Cubs until 27 (in 1904). His use by manager/first baseman Frank Chance was interesting; despite the fact that Brown quickly established himself as the best pitcher on the team he was worked relatively little for the era. For his first three years he only had 24, 32 and 27 starts, all seasons below 300 IP. Part of this was due to the depth of the Cubs’ rotation, but the rest was because of Chance’s preferred habit of using Brown as a reliever in important games. This habit of protecting Brown’s workload paid dividends; much of Brown’s legend is tied to great matchups in the postseason with Christy Mathewson that Brown usually won. It didn’t hurt that Brown routinely pitched 50 innings a season less than Mathewson and so was always more rested.
While he was a capable strikeout pitcher (four top tens in K/9) he was more known for his excellent control (eight top tens in BB/9). During his peak (ages 28-34, 1905-1911) he finished in the top five of FIP every single year, leading the league once. rWAR has him with four top five finishes, with two 2nd places (both above 9 rWAR). But if you look at his direct stats, they’re a lot more impressive. He led the league in WHIP three times, finished in the top five of ERA seven times, finished #1 in RAW twice and had three different 10+ RAW seasons. What’s the cause of this difference? If you remember the stat talk at the beginning of the section, or anything about the Cubs in the 1900s you can probably guess. The Cubs were the best fielding team of the decade, saving 30-40 runs every year with their gloves. For his career, Brown had the 3rd lowest BABIP in the league, but would you believe that #1 and #4 also pitched for the Cubs? He had the 6th best LOB% in the league for that time; would you believe that #2, 4 and 5 also pitched for the Cubs? Brown allowed a mere 253 BABIP during his time with the Cubs. Would you believe that the Cubs average BABIP for that time was 255? He stranded an impressive 72.4% of runners; would you believe that the Cubs averaged 71.4%?
Here’s the moral of the story. He was a great pitcher in his peak; fWAR gives him four 5+ seasons with one above 7. His career FIP- of 83 is respectable (in terms of IP and FIP- he’s very comparable to Bruce Pinnock). But he played on a great set of teams with great fielding, and these combined to giving him a lot of wins and ERAs that were fantastic. Brown was a really good pitcher, but the defense behind him made him look great (his closest comp between IP and ERA-, basically who he’d be as good as if his fielding-assisted numbers were all him, is Dino Williamson). Had he broken into the majors earlier, had he figured it out earlier and not pitched his entire career after the age of 26, he would certainly have made Bronze. Brown was great in his peak, an important part of the league’s history. But he wasn’t as good as he seemed at the time.
The worst of the three great pitchers for the deadball-era Athletics, Chief Bender! Albert Bender was half Chippewa Indian and, in the argot of the times, was referred to as “Chief” for most of his career. Before, say, 1920, it was pretty common for Native Americans to be named “Chief”, deaf/mute players to be named “Dummy”, moral men or those with religious backgrounds to be “Deacon”, country hicks to be “Rube” and occasionally lefties to be named “Lefty”. It was what it was. For his part Bender took the cognomen without complaint, often responding to jeers with smiles. Bender broke in with the Athletics in 1903 at age 19 and established himself quickly as a gifted hurler.
Bender is often credited as the inventor of the slider and, while it is uncertain how true this, he certainly appears to be the first to master the ‘fast curve’. He also threw a changeup (or possibly a knuckler, depending on your source) that he could throw with the exact same motion as his fastball. He struggled with his control early on but had great stuff throughout, pitching for the A’s until age 30 (1914) before jumping to the Federal League for a year. He was no workhorse, only once pitching more than 250 innings, but he was consistently excellent, with seven seasons of 4+ RAW, culminating in his age 25-27 stretch when he was worth 5.8, 7.2 and 6.9 RAW. He had ten seasons with K/9 in the top ten, six where his BB/9 were in the top ten, ten seasons for K/BB and five seasons in the top ten for RAW. He was very good, but he was never as dominant as Rube Waddell, never as controlled as Eddie Plank (his rotation-mates in Philadelphia). Bender was accounted by his roomate as one of the kindest men he’d ever met, and by Ty Cobb as the most intelligent pitcher he’d faced. Not bad references.
Let’s move forward a decade, to a lefty hurler named James “Hippo” Vaughn! Vaughn doesn’t get a lot of love historically because his won-loss record isn’t great, but then again, he played for a lot of bad teams. He was called “Hippo” because he was 6’4” and 240 lbs, and this from an era where the average man was three inches shorter. Basically picture a thin NFL defensive end and that was Vaughn. He broke in with the Highlanders in 1910 at age 22 and had serious stuff (averaging 5 K/9 when league average was around 4) but struggled some with control. The Highlanders sold him to the Senators after a few years, who in turn sold him to a minor league team (remember, minor leagues were separate at this point, not subordinates). By 1914 (age 26) he was back in the majors with the Cubs and from there on out he pitched excellently.
He pitched 250+ innings every year for the Cubs through age 32, retaining his excellent stuff and bringing his walks/9 way down. His best year was 1918 when he led the league in ERA, FIP, Wins, Strikeouts, Shutouts, IP, K/BB, WHIP . . . it was a good year (8.6 RAW). On the back of his performance the Cubs won the Pennant, though fell to the Ruth-led Red Sox in 6. The loss could not be laid at his feet; he pitched three complete games, struck out 17 in 27 innings (walking 5) and allowing three runs. The Cubs only won one of those three games. By the time he retired Vaughn had an impressive set of top tens: HRA/9 (5), K/BB (7, one led league), strikeouts (7, led league twice), shutouts (8, led league once) and RAW (top 6 six times, led league once). Considered the hardest throwing lefty in the league, at his peak (which curiously was in his late 20s/early 30s) Vaughn was excellent. Consider this quote from Pete Alexander (who you’ll meet many floors up): “Big Jim Vaughn used to pitch the particular kind of ball a batter liked best, just to show him that he couldn’t hit it. Nothing pleased him better than to strike a man out pitching to his strength.” He’s our #4 pitcher of 1910-1919 for a reason folks.
A considerably less famous Babe than Ruth, Babe Adams! Adams had a very strange career arc. As with many pitchers he didn’t have an effective starting role in the majors until 27 (1909), pitching well for the 1909 Pirates in spots. Over the next six years (until 1915, age 33) he pitched very well for the Pirates, with five different seasons at 3.7 rWAR or above, including a 6.3 and an 8.3. Then, in 1916, he had arm trouble and was ultimately cut by the Pirates. In a normal career arc, that’d be it and he’d not come close to Honorable Mention. Buuuuuut . . .
He rested his shoulder most of the 1916 season, then over the winter, then signed on with a minor league team, where he pitched fantastically. In 1918, with a number of players being drafted for service in World War I, older viable players like Adams became desirable and the Pirates re-signed him toward the end of the season. In 1919 the 37 year-old Adams, much to everyone’s surprise, had one of his best years, leading the league in BB/9 without losing much in the way of stuff. In fact Adams, from ages 37 through 40, led the league in BB/9 every year and still put up high enough K/9 to be an excellent pitcher (a 7.4 and a 6.0 rWAR year). By 39 he couldn’t start more than 25 games a year, and by 40 his K/9 had dropped to the point where his control kept him only good, in the 3 WAR area. He retired in 1926, at the age of 44. He only had two pitches, a fastball and a curve, but he knew how to place them just right. One of the best control pitchers of his era.
Speaking of Pirates’ pitchers from the teens and 20s, say hi to Wilbur Cooper! Cooper had a career arc so stable that it’s reminiscent of a hitter. He joined the Pirates in 1912 at age 20, but didn’t pitch more than 100 innings until he was 22. His next two years were decent and by 24-25 he had it figured out. Cooper was never dominant but was consistently good. fWAR has him with seven seasons at 4+ WAR and three seasons in the 5s. rWAR has him with the same seven seasons at 4+ WAR, but it credits him with a 5, two 6s and a 7. His top tens continue the story of a pitcher who was not dominant at anything but was generally quality: K/9 (four), BB/9 (six), HRA/9 (four), innings pitched (eight), FIP (five), ERA+ (seven) and rWAR (eight, led league once). Cooper relied on his standard three pitches (fastball, change, curve) until age 32 (1924) when he went to play with the Cubs. He was not at his old level of performance and age 34 was his last season in the majors. He remains as our top NL pitcher of 1922 (both in fWAR and rWAR) and was a strong pitcher for a strong franchise.
Another life cut short, Urban Shocker! It sounds like it would be a nickname but Urban was actually his given name (there were multiple Popes named Urban, who knew?). When the spitball was outlawed in the 1920s pitchers already throwing it were grandfathered in, and Shocker became one of the last pitchers to make use of it. While he used the threat of it as a frequent ploy, he threw very few, relying far more on his fastball and curve. Ed Walsh, perhaps best spitballer of the era, accounted Shocker a great pitcher, but not a great thrower of the spitball.
In any case Shocker, as is not uncommon, took a long time to master his craft, not actually making the majors full-time until 1919 (age 28) for the St. Louis Browns. His K/9 and BB/9 during his peak, ages 28-33) were 3.6 and 2.0 respectively, which look weak until you realize how much the rule changes of the early 20s hurt pitching. The average for his time was about 2.88 for each, with a K/BB of 1. By comparison, Shocker was a quality strikeout pitcher with good control. He consistently outperformed his league and his team, having lower BABIP and stranding more runners than his defense would suggest. His career ERA- is 81, an excellent score, and his RAW numbers are very good, with nine seasons above 4.2 RAW, including a 7.3 and an 8.9. He had seven different years in the top ten for rWAR in his league, leading it once. After his time with the Browns, at age 34 he came back to the Yankees and had several good years. His career is right on the cusp of Bronze but not quite there. It is a shame that he didn’t figure it out until 28; everything from then to 36 is excellent. On a personal note, Shocker had a serious heart defect and according to some sources could not sleep lying down. By mid 1927 he was too ill to start regularly, and died of heart failure at age 38.
Perhaps more famous for what he didn’t do, Red Faber! Urban Faber (he got the nickname because his hair was red; nicknames in the first few decades of the century were highly original) was a spitball pitcher for the White Sox, pitching from 1914-1933 (ages 25-44). He did not use the spitball on every pitch (he also had a curve and two-seamer) but his spitter was considered one of the best of the era. Instead of spitting on the ball he’d instead only moiston the ends of his index and middle fingers. To add to the effectiveness of the pitch he not only developed multiple arm angles for the pitch but also, depending on how he chose to release and grip the pitch, he could vary the direction and length of the break. Ty Cobb considered Faber one of the hardest pitchers to hit, and Goose Goslin, when asked how to make contact with Faber’s spitball he responded, “Just close your eyes, swing, and pray for contact”. (By the way, isn’t it interesting how 80% of every story in the form “this pitcher was good because this one great hitter said they were a real challenge to face” seems to feature Cobb if the pitcher in question pitched between 1908 and 1925? I don’t know if that should be read as Cobb being a more generous soul than he’s been given credit for, or Cobb being the most respected batter of his time.)
Faber was decent for his first several years (1915-1917) but in 1918 he was conscripted into the Army until the end of the war, and in 1919 he battled with the flu (perhaps the Spanish Influenza that swept the world in that year), lost a ton of weight and pitched little, missing the infamous World Series. It was considered by White Sox catcher Ray Schalk that if Faber had been healthy the fix could never have taken place, that Faber would never have agreed to such a thing and the fix was only viable because both primary pitchers would be in on it. Whatever else may be true, Faber came back from the Flu and pitched better than he ever had before. From 1920 to 1920 to 1922 he pitched superbly. His fWARs for those seasons aren’t incredible (4.8, 5.6, 6.8) but fWAR is missing the fact that over those thousand innings Faber’s BABIP was an astounding 28 points lower than his team’s, and his LOB% an equally astounding 6.1% lower. It’s not that he was striking tons of batters out (he wasn’t), it’s not that his control was dominant (I mean, it was pretty good), it was that *nobody* could hit him cleanly. He had the 2nd lowest BABIP and the 2nd highest LOB% in baseball over those three years. rWAR grades those seasons at 5.7, 11.3 and 9.3, RAW sees them as 6.8, 12.1 and 9.9. And though fWAR doesn’t see him as being the best in any one year, it sees him as the best in baseball over those three years.
By the end of this span he was 34 and everything had started to go. His strikeouts dropped, his walks rose and batters started to be able to make decent contact with his stuff. He was still decent (he did continue pitching in the majors until he was 44), but the rest of his career was unremarkable (aside from its length), with five seasons in the 3-rWAR range but nothing better. Faber was a decent pitcher for 17 years of his 20-year career, but for three years (curiously the years where the balance of power swung to hitters) he was the best in baseball.
Not a nickname, Eppa Rixey! Rixey was born a southern aristocrat. While he enjoyed pitching he had a bachelor’s degree in Chemistry and intended to go into that profession. Only when the economy took a downturn in 1912, his father’s bank took a hit and his brother was struggling to pay tuition at Virginia did the appeal of quick money playing professional baseball become appealing. Even during his career he’d come back to UVA to finish two masters degrees (Chemistry and Latin), and in the winter he taught Latin at a high school in DC. While Rixey had little in common, socially, with his teammates his willingness to stand his ground when hazed earned their respect, and there are few stories of him being alienated from his team, or vice versa.
At 6’5’’ Rixey was the tallest lefty in the league at the time. He came up with the Phillies in 1912 (age 21), with good stuff but struggling with control. After years of issues with the Phillies’ managers he was traded to the Reds in 1921 (age 30). In Cincinnati and with manager Pat Moran, Rixey would find an ideal situation. Moran favored excellent fielders and pitchers who gave up nothing (home runs or walks) and pitched to contact. Rixey, brainy but not overpowering, made the adjustments immediately. Known for throwing many pitches a game and for operating into deep counts without fear, Rixey would constantly try and bait hitters into weak contact. His top tens trace a decent arc for his career: HRA/9 (eleven, led league three times), BB/9 (six, all after being traded to Cincinnati), K/9 (four, all before being traded to Cincinnati), FIP (eleven, nine of which in Cincy) and rWAR (nine, led league once). Rixey was never dominating but he made few mistakes and never let hitters beat him. My favorite quote of his: “How dumb can hitters in this league get? I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. When they’re batting with the count two balls and no strikes, or three and one, they’re always looking for the fastball. And they *never* get it.”
Less dominator than compiler, Burleigh Grimes! He’s the first pitcher so far to have what now might be considered a normal career, coming on in 1917 for the Pirates (age 23) and pitching deep into his late 30s. A workhorse, he broke 300+ innings five times (leading the league thrice), and pitching over 4000 innings over his career. He is definitively the last pitcher to (legally) use the spitball, and he used it to solid effect, with eight seasons in the top ten of K/9. He was very good but not often dominant, only breaking 4+ RAW seven times and having no seasons above 7. His main weakness was his control, which was still better than average but he still had nine top tens in most walks allowed (on account of his innings pitched as much as anything). Grimes was not accounted a pleasant individual on game day, being one of the few pitchers to actually throw at a batter while he was still in the on-deck circle . . .
One of the few pitchers to be used as a pinch-hitter, as well as one of the few to intentionally walk a batter to pitch to Babe Ruth, George Uhle! Uhle was a precocious pitcher, joining the Indians at 20 (1919) and impressing from the start. He had a few rough seasons until he learned that he was tipping his pitches; after that he settled down. Uhle was an exceptional hitter for a pitcher; in 1512 plate appearances he hit 289/339/384, contributing ten wins with his bat over the average pitcher. As a pitcher Uhle relied on a fastball and curve and late in his career developed an effective slider (some even credit him with inventing the pitch). His top tens reveal no dominant trait: K/9 (three times), BB/9 (four times), HRA/9 (five times) and rWAR (five times, led league once).
Oh that Babe Ruth story I mentioned? Well, the Indians are playing the Yankees, there are two outs, a man on second, Mark Koenig at the plate and Ruth on deck. Uhle started throwing obvious balls so manager Tris Speaker called time and ran in from centerfield. Uhle explained that he wanted Koenig on base to set up the force at second. When Speaker pointed out that doing so would bring Ruth up Uhle dismissed it, saying that he had it under control. Uhle walked Koenig and brought Ruth up. Ruth, infuriated to have been feared so little, flushed with color and stomped to the plate, swinging angrily. Uhle threw two curves that Ruth fouled off, then nibbled around the plate until the count was 3-2. With the full count Uhle reared back and threw a perfect curve, the kind that looked in the zone until it wasn’t. Ruth swung, then tried to hold up but went around and was called out on strikes. Speaker congratulated Uhle in a manner evoking Lou Brown, “That was terrific . . . Never try it again.” Of all the pitchers to face Ruth at least a hundred times, Uhle was the second best at stopping him, holding the Babe to a slugging percentage of only 429 (compare with Ruth’s career average of 690). Interestingly, Red Faber was #1 on that list. Uhle saved his best stuff for when it mattered most. As a pitcher his career is just below Honorable Mention; his bat puts him over the top.
You know, I think I’m full on pitchers right now; do you know that there are fifty-five different Honorable Mention Starting Pitchers? That’s why we have these little Ikea-style shortcuts. Why don’t we step through here, take a tour through the history of the 20s and then cut back through to the next set?