April 1, 2005
Watching Ichiro play for
the last four-plus years, you cannot argue one point about his game: The
man can get hits. With the ongoing steroid scandal and the
consequent devaluation of home run hitting, his record of 262 hits may gain more
even more lustre as the years go by.
This season [2005], what
else is there for him to shoot for? He prefers not to talk about it, but
he may reasonably consider the pursuit of the .400 batting average.
As every fan knows, Ted
Williams was the last player to hit .400, in 1941. If Ichiro can break
George Sisler’s 84 year-old record, why not Williams’s 64 year-old one?
Some very smart people
have pondered the possibility. Stephen Jay Gould, the eminent Harvard
natural historian, in two essays published in 1996, explained why the .400 mark
will not (in all probability) be reached again. Gould employs
statistical analyses, summarizing,
“Granting the foregoing argument that hitting
must be improving in some absolute sense as the best athletes first rush, then
creep, toward the right wall of biomechanical limits on human performance, only
one traditional explanation remains unrefuted for viewing the extinction of
0.400 hitting as the deterioration of something at bat—the possibility that,
while hitting has improved, other opposing activities (pitching and fielding)
have gotten better, leading to a relative decline in batting performance.”[1]
Ichiro himself knows
what he’s up against. He told Narumi Komatsu in an interview for a recent
book:
“That 10 percent
difference [between .300 and .400] is the wall that confronts all
batters. The sense of that wall bearing down on you, and the willpower to
struggle to climb over it, are really just two sides of the same coin.”[2]
Apparently, though,
Ichiro has never read Gould’s essays. He says also, “I set out [In 2000
with Orix] to get as close to .400 as I could. Finally, I felt everything
I needed to do to achieve that level fell into place…hitting .400 wasn’t out of
the realm of possibility.”[3]
Gould made his analyses
before Ichiro’s Seattle debut in 2001. After his 262 knocks last season,
Gould may have reason to amend his views--not that his logic is flawed--but
that Ichiro’s abilities lie outside and above his analysis. He is a
different kind of ballplayer, unique in baseball history, a stranger in a
strange world. Based only on his first four years, his Hall of Fame
credentials seem solid. If anyone can hit .400, it will be Ichiro.
But he’s going to have to change his approach at the plate.
Getting a pitch to hit
First, he’s going to
have to shrink his personal strike zone, look at more pitches and get more
bases on balls. It’s a simple proposition, but for a hitter like Ichiro,
it may be too much. Like all good hitters, he’s hungry for
hits. But there’s a difference between “getting hits” and “being a
hitter,” a difference exemplified by Williams.
Like Ichiro, Williams
was utterly dedicated to the difficult craft of hitting a baseball. Their
approaches, however, are very different. Let’s see how Williams did it
in1941:
Williams 1941
|
BA
|
games
|
AB
|
hits
|
R
|
OB%
|
BB
|
.406
|
143
|
456
|
185
|
135
|
.553
|
145
|
The stat that jumps out
is bases
on balls. Williams led the majors that year with 145.
As a result, his on-base percentage was an astounding .553. Although
Williams ranks 3rd all-time with 2019 walks, he ranks just 47th
in total hits, with 2654. He realized that the point of the game was to get
on base, and then to score.
Compare it to Ichiro’s
2004:
Ichiro, 2004
|
Avg
|
AB
|
games
|
hits
|
R
|
OB%
|
BB
|
.372
|
704
|
161
|
262
|
101
|
.414
|
49
|
Last year he drew only
49 bases on balls, surprisingly few for a hitter so gifted. Maybe too
gifted. Ichiro’s “problem” is that he believes he can hit anything:
“In the ’98 season
whenever I stepped into the batter’s box I felt I could make contact with 50
percent of the strikes thrown. After that grounder to second in April
’99, that percentage went up by 10 percent to 20 percent…I got tremendous
confidence in my batting. I don’t know where my peak is as far as batting
goes, but I know I’ll never be in a slump again…Early in the 1999 season
something just clicked. I could finally get hold of a certain feeling I’d
been looking for. Once that clicked in I knew I’d never lose it again.”[4]
He’s not going to do it
like George Sisler did. In 1920, while collecting his 257 hits, George
Sisler hit a cool .407. Let’s see how he did it:
Sisler, 1920
|
Avg
|
AB
|
games
|
hits
|
R
|
OB%
|
BB
|
.407
|
631
|
154
|
257
|
137
|
.449
|
46
|
Alas, a bygone era; no
one is ever going to have a year like that again. For one thing, the
pitching was weak. Sisler’s team, the St. Louis Browns, had a team batting
average of .308 that year. In those days fielders wore
gloves--not mitts, just leather gloves. It reinforces Gould’s
point. 1920 was the year, by the way, when Babe Ruth, in his second year
with the Yankees, broke through with a (then) astonishing 52 home runs.
Again, Ichiro has to
take more pitches. Not every hitter is talented or disciplined enough to
use Williams’ approach. Ichiro is.
“D” and “RPG”
In his quest for
personal excellence, Ichiro may at times neglect the basic job of every offensive
player: Either get on base and score or knock the other guy in.
In a recent Sports
Illustrated, he is quoted: “Some fans are not really paying attention
to runs and on-base percentage….Getting hits and home runs is what they want to
see.”[5] Which shows that Ichiro at least is aware
of what it takes to be an effective team player. But a pschic conflict is
also implicit; he understands what it takes to improve, even at his unique
level, but he feels intense pressure to please the fans.
In order to make it
clearer, I have copied statistics of some great players in history, including
one other current player, Barry Bonds. I have coined two
statistics: “D” for difference between batting average and on-base
percentage, and “RPG” for runs per game. Admittedly they are
crude stats but they do show offensive effectiveness.
Player
|
BA
|
OB%
|
D
|
Runs
|
Games
|
RPG
|
Ruth
|
.342
|
0.469
|
127
|
2174
|
2503
|
0.87
|
Williams
|
.344
|
0.481
|
137
|
1798
|
2292
|
0.78
|
Bonds
|
.300
|
0.443
|
143
|
2070
|
2716
|
0.76
|
Henderson
|
.279
|
0.402
|
123
|
2288
|
3051
|
0.75
|
Cobb
|
.367
|
0.424
|
57
|
2245
|
3035
|
0.74
|
Ichiro
|
.339
|
0.384
|
45
|
450
|
634
|
0.71
|
Mantle
|
.298
|
0.420
|
122
|
1677
|
2401
|
0.70
|
Mays
|
.302
|
0.383
|
81
|
2062
|
2992
|
0.69
|
Musial
|
.331
|
0.416
|
85
|
1949
|
3026
|
0.64
|
Rose
|
.303
|
0.375
|
72
|
2165
|
3562
|
0.61
|
Carew
|
.328
|
0.393
|
65
|
1424
|
2469
|
0.58
|
I realize that most fans
and analysts see only two offense stats as truly meaningful: RBI and Runs
Scored. As you can see, the major RBI producers, such as Ruth, Williams
and Bonds, also score a lot of runs. That’s fine. But what about Hunger
and/or Ability to Score? (Note: readers will have to make their own
adjustments when looking at stats for Ruth and Mantle, who played for
powerhouse Yankee clubs and found it easier to score.)
With these great
players, there is a high positive correlation between D and RPG.
As a lead-off man,
Ichiro bears better comparison to Rickey Henderson, generally recognized as the
greatest lead-off hitter in history. Whatever his annoying
idiosyncrasies, as a ballplayer Rickey understood his job and got it
done: Get on base and score. With a career average of.279,
he was not a great hitter, but his career D of .123, fourth only to Ruth, Williams and Bonds, proves his
value.
 |
| Rickey |
Ichiro’s career D
is a paltry 45 (only 42 last year, when he reached .372 with 262 hits!),
ridiculously low considering his skills. Improving in this area alone,
not worrying about total hits or average, would greatly improve his value to
the team.
Parenthetically, I was
aghast when I saw Bonds’s career numbers, especially D. I’ve never
been a Bonds fan but now I must acknowledge his effectiveness as an offensive
player. Like Williams and Ruth, he demands “a pitch to hit” and he
intimidates pitchers. Human Growth Hormone or not, I must tip my hat to
Barry.
To repeat, Ichiro needs
to shrink his strike zone. He is supremely disciplined--but this kind of
self-discipline may be most difficult. He is like (is) a person—with a high metabolism, of whom we say: He can eat anything he
likes; he’ll never get fat. Ichiro knows the strike zone, inside and
out. But his weak point may be high and low. He’s shown he can hit
bad pitches there, too, but the laws of physics (and his own experience)
dictate that he’ll pop up and strike out more often on high pitches and ground
out more often on low ones.
Ironically, the most
painful sacrifice he’d have to make is not getting to 200 hits! Williams
rapped out “only” 185 in 1942, but led the AL in walks, 145, 37 homers, 135
runs, and 145 RBI.
Let’s tinker with
Ichiro’s 2005 stats and see what he might do with fewer hits and more walks
than he had last year, say 70 of each:
Ichiro, 2005
|
AB
|
Hits
|
BB
|
Avg.
|
Maybe
|
480
|
192
|
116
|
.400
|
Most important, he’ll
have to drastically reduce his official at-bats. There are a number of
ways he can do this: First, as mentioned above, he’ll have to accept more
free passes. Second, he’ll need to play fewer games. He should sit
out once a week. This would give him more rest and make his game more
effective. He’s more likely to reach .400 if he plays about 142 games, as
Williams did in 1941. Look at his two best years with Orix in
Japan: In 1994 he hit .385 with a .440 OB% in 130 games, with 546
at-bats. In 2000 he hit .387 with a .463 OB% in only 395 at-bats in 105
games.
Third, he’ll have to
seriously consider “dropping” in the order to 3rd, customarily
reserved for the team’s best hitter. (Usually the best hitter has the
highest OBA. Rickey Henderson, with his amazing 123 Diff., was an
outstanding exception.) In the 3-spot he’ll get more RBIs, too,
making him even more effective. Also, it would reduce his at-bats for the
year by about 40.[6]
His new manager, Mike
Hargrove, should not shrink from the responsibility of putting Ichiro into the
3-hole. He also was quoted in Sports Illustrated:
“As an opposing manager,
I thought it screamed for him to be a number 3 hitter. But, being around
him, I can just see that he really enjoys [leadoff].”[7]
In other words, Hargrove
feels obliged to Give The Man what he wants.
For any manager (or
fan), the problem is: What can you say
to a player like Ichiro? Can Hargrove force him to sit on the bench one
day a week, even for his own and the team’s good? It’s not just Ichiro;
how can a manager suggest a change of approach to any $10 million
ball-player these days? Well, with their present pitching staff, the M’s
are going to lose a lot of games. It might take losing to motivate
Hargrove, as it did last year for Bob Melvin, who dropped Ichiro to third in
the order for a short time.
Hargrove needn’t defer
to the champ’s delicate sensibilities. Ichiro is no stranger to hitting
lower in the order. In 2000, when he hit .387 in his last year with the
Orix Blue Wave, he hit clean-up! Though he may have a slight preference
for the #1 hole, he himself told Komatsu: “Well, nowadays it doesn’t matter
where I am in the lineup; I just go out and bat the way I want to.”[8]
Hargrove’s line-up
should be:
1. Wynn
2. New centerfielder
3. Ichiro
4. Beltre
5. Sexon
6. Boone
7. Ibanez
8. Olivo or Wilson
9. New shortstop
That’s putting your best
hitters in the middle, where they belong. If the two guys at top get on
base consistently, Ichiro (and each of the next four hitters) have a chance
drive in 100 runs. If those two guys can’t produce, well, back to the
drawing board.
Motivation to Change
It’s all academic, of
course, unless Ichiro gets motivated to make the changes.
But why change?
He’s found a method that works for him and for nobody else. In fact,
though not many fans are aware of it, he has also shown that he can make
changes to his approach:
Ichiro has said, “Batting
changes over time. You think you’ve got it, then something gets out of
alignment. It’s a process of repetition. Your body changes, and so
do your feelings, so it’s only natural you’re going to make some
adjustments. But making a major adjustment just indicates you’re
confused…I might make further changes in the future. It’s certainly a
possibility. That’s what makes the game interesting.”
American fans may not
realize that Ichiro remains essentially Japanese—and spiritual-- in his outlook
and sensibilities. He may understand “biomechanical limits” but does not
recognize mental limits. He is both a superb technician and an
artist. Next month, or even tomorrow, like an artist or poet, he may be
seized by an epiphany which compels him to change his style. Though
he respects them all, it will not be up to his fans, coaches, teammates or
manager.
Last year, referring to
his “adjustment” back in 1999, Komatsu prompted Ichiro,
“You were delving into a
deeper layer of baseball.”
Ichiro replied, “I’m
surprised at the things I still don’t know, which makes me want to keep on
playing.”
Appendix
Williams 1941
|
BA
|
games
|
AB
|
hits
|
R
|
OB%
|
BB
|
D
|
RPG
|
.406
|
143
|
456
|
185
|
135
|
.553
|
145
|
147
|
0.94
|
Sisler, 1920
|
Avg
|
AB
|
games
|
hits
|
R
|
OB%
|
BB
|
D
|
RPG
|
.407
|
631
|
154
|
257
|
137
|
.449
|
46
|
42
|
.89
|
Ichiro, 2004
|
Avg
|
AB
|
games
|
hits
|
R
|
OB%
|
BB
|
hits
|
D
|
RPG
|
.372
|
704
|
161
|
262
|
101
|
.414
|
49
|
262
|
42
|
.63
|
Sisler
Bonds
[1] Stephen Jay Gould. “0.400 Hitting Dies as
the Right tail Shrinks” and “Why the Death of 0.400 Hitting Record
Improvement
of Play,” in Full House: The Spread of Excellence from Plato to Darwin.
New York: Random House, 1996.
[2] Ichiro Suzuki and Narumi Komatsu. Ichiro
on Ichiro. Trans. By Philip Gabriel. Sasquatch Books, Seattle,
2004.
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