Earlier today we published the positional power rankings for center field. For the first time since 2013, and for just the third time in the history of the positional power rankings, the Angels are not in the top spot. To put this changing of the guard in perspective, I went back and read all of the entries about Mike Trout and the Angels. This article is not a eulogy. Instead, we are here today to commemorate his greatness. It’s a retrospective of sorts, both of Trout’s peak and our coverage of it, but I would remind you that he’s not yet reached the compiling phase of his Hall of Fame career. In fact, among center fielders, only Aaron Judge is projected for a higher wRC+ than Trout this season. The Angels still rank fourth, despite the fact that Trout is projected to play less center field and more DH this season because Shohei Ohtani is no longer on the team. Trout is only 32, and it would hardly be surprising if he returns to the 160ish wRC+ that both we and the projections have come to expect.

Besides, praising Trout is one of main the reasons I’m writing here at all. I started reading FanGraphs religiously sometime between 2014 and 2016. I had a lot of free time at work, and I spent pretty much all of it doing what you’re doing right now. At some point, we switched from a cubicle farm to an open office. Concerned that everyone would be able to see my computer screen, I remember wondering whether I’d have to quit, or whether I’d be able to devise some way to hide the fact that, rather than working, I was just reading the same green website all day. I never did figure out how to hide it, but it turned out that nobody seemed to mind much. What I loved most of all, what turned me into a moderately knowledgeable baseball person, was reading about Mike Trout.

I know that many people, the sainted Sam Miller chief among them, have done incredible writing about Trout elsewhere. But to me personally, Trout is the player whose career is most tightly intertwined with the story of this site. His ascent as an all-around superstar, along with the agita surrounding the race for the 2013 AL MVP, made him the poster boy for advanced metrics in general and WAR in particular. Here was a player whose greatness was visible, but whose contributions in every facet of the game added up to more than the eye could see and way more than the Triple Crown stats could tell you. And here was a website full of great writers who couldn’t wait to show you — with graphs and GIFs and gags — how to appreciate that greatness and recognize it for yourself. Could Trout end up with the most WAR ever? Could he be as valuable to the Angels as LeBron James was to his team? How much was his production actually worth? How the hell did he hit a home run on this pitch? Or this pitch? Where would he rank according to a brand new stat?

Sometimes my wife does this thing that I love: We’ll just be sitting on the couch making each other laugh, and she’ll stop and say, “We’re so happy.” It’s true. We are so happy. But it’s also obvious enough that you might think there’s no reason to say it. You’d be wrong. We’re not going to be newlyweds forever, and it really is important to appreciate just how good we have it. In 2014, August Fagerstrom expressed that sentiment in the first of what turned into a series of check-ins about Trout’s place in history: “You might be tired of hearing or reading about Mike Trout, but you really shouldn’t be. Don’t take this one for granted… enough can’t be said about him.” A writer’s job is to ask interesting questions. Trout’s greatness has been such that for 12 years now, those questions have often been about the exact same topic. Somehow, the writers here have done an incredible job of finding creative ways to make sure we appreciate it, of fighting what Justin Klugh called “the normalization of Mike Trout’s massive talent.” If David Appelman were to collect the best articles about Trout from the past 10 years and publish them in a book, I’d buy the hell out of it. They changed my life. In fact, here’s one of the very first things I ever wrote for FanGraphs, just a few months before I’d get my first chance at actual baseball writing. Please ignore the superfluous comma.

All of this writing was and still is necessary because Trout has been so good for so long that it can be hard to wrap your arms around his greatness. Julio Rodríguez is a megastar with a mega-contract who finally displaced Trout by starting his career with back-to-back seasons worth 5-plus WAR at ages 21 and 22. But Trout, a year younger than Rodríguez in his rookie season, started out with back-to-back 10-win campaigns, excluding his 40-game cup of coffee as in 2011, his age-19 season. Over each of their first two full seasons, Trout was worth nine more WAR than Rodríguez! He averaged 8.9 WAR during his first eight seasons, then he put up 2.5 WAR in 2020, the equivalent of 6.8 WAR in a full season. In 2019, Angels center fielders were projected 9.2 WAR, more than double our projection for the Brewers, the no. 2 team at the position. That was the median projection, and the Halos fell short only because Trout missed nearly 30 games. It’s bonkers, and again, that’s just the peak. As recently as 2022, he put up 6.0 WAR in 119 games. Last season, the miserable slog that got him dethroned, he still put up the 11th-most WAR among all center fielders despite playing just 82 games, and if you look only at value accrued while playing center, he moves up to seventh, with 3.1 WAR in 79 games. From the very beginning, putting Trout’s career into a comprehensible context has required a healthy dose of ingenuity from our writers. It’s like a diagram of a skyscraper; you need that tiny picture of a human at the bottom just to remind you of what normal human scale looks like.

Speaking of scale, Trout has consistently destroyed the graphs that started appearing with the positional power rankings in 2014. He was blowing the curve not for a high school math class, but for the very best baseball players in the world. Year after year, his bar on the far the left dwarfed every other center fielder in baseball until, gradually, it didn’t.

The positional power rankings started in 2012, just in time for a certain toolsy center fielder to be name-checked as “the uber-prospect Mike Trout.” He was also projected for 100 PAs in left field. The ZiPS projections for Peter Bourjos and Vernon Wells were a little too rosy, but uber-prospect or not, no one could have been prepared for the .326/.399/.564 slash line that Trout put up in his rookie season. As you can tell from the tables, things were a little rough and ready back then. Fun fact: This table also represents the lowest ranking the Angels have ever had in center field.

By 2013, both the projections and the authors of the rankings were ready to crown Trout. On his own, he was projected for 6.8 WAR, nearly a full win above Andrew McCutchen’s Pirates in first place. However, Trout was still projected to spend most of his time in left in order to make room for Bourjos in center. “He’s a star even if his performance figures to take a slight step back following one of the best rookie seasons we’ll ever see,” wrote Mike Axisa. Over in left field, where a partial season from Trout was enough to lift the Angels into second place, Michael Barr called Trout, “The statistical community consensus AL MVP and real-world runner up,” but cautioned that, “it would probably be foolish to project a repeat of one of the greatest offensive performances in recent history.” He was right: Trout wouldn’t repeat his performance; he’d be even better.

In 2014, Jason Collette started his introduction by explaining why the graph looked so weird: “If you’ve been looking at the scale of these charts and wondering why we set the top end of the range to +9 when the best team is usually closer to +6, here’s your answer. Stupid Mike Trout.” He then called Trout, “the best player at his position, nee [sic], the game,” which will never not make me laugh. In 2015, Craig Edwards repeated what by that point had become a refrain: “Mike Trout is the best player in baseball, and it is not particularly close.” In 2016, Trout was simply “the best in the world.” (Also, let’s briefly remember Trout’s projected backups in those seasons: JB Shuck, Collin Cowgill, Craig Gentry, and Rafael Ortega!)

That’s when the player capsules about Trout started changing a bit. By 2017, it wasn’t enough just to acknowledge Trout’s greatness. Some poetry was necessary. “There is no one at his level,” wrote Dave Cameron. “There is no one near his level. There is no one on a level that can see Trout’s level from their level.” Just a year later, Trout had been so good for so long that it was assumed. His dominance had reached its hipster phase, and it was time for some snark. “Just in case you hadn’t thought about it enough recently,” wrote Jeff Sullivan, “Mike Trout is good.” In 2019, Dan Szymborski saved his snark for the question of whether the Angels would ever actually put a winning team around Trout: “It’s not the steak’s fault if someone puts ketchup on it.” Craig Edwards got topical in 2020: “He also wears a mask around others because it is known to prevent the spread of the coronavirus. He truly is an MVP.”

The big shift came in 2021. That was the first time an author considered the possibility that some young star might actually overtake Trout on the rankings. Brendan Gawlowski named five candidates: Luis Robert Jr., Ramón Laureano, Trent Grisham, Kyle Lewis, and Cristian Pache. None of them has topped Trout yet, and when push came to shove, Gawlowski wrote, “One of these years, he’ll slow down but if 2021 is the season, the projections will be as surprised and disappointed as anyone.” By 2022, Ben Clemens gave voice to the reality depicted in the bar graph: “He’s still the king… But after a decade on top, Trout’s hold on the No. 1 spot has loosened.” Ben noted that although the bat was still there, Trout’s issues were durability and defense.

That brings us to 2023, when Michael Baumann went so far as to invite another center fielder into the top tier, calling Trout and Rodríguez “the two clear best center fielders in baseball, and writing, “If anyone were to displace Trout as the premier center fielder in the game, Rodríguez is the most likely candidate.” That day, so long in coming, is finally here.

I can’t tell you how much fun it was to write this article. It was also difficult, because the authors here — one of whom works in the front office of the team that finally wrested the top spot from the Angels — have written so, so many fun things about Mike Trout. I spent hours getting lost in them when I should have been writing. Below are links to every year of the center field positional power rankings, as well as the left field entries from 2012 and 2013. I’d also encourage you to simply explore the blog roll of articles about Trout. Scroll around and click on anything with a title that sounds fun. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, and I’m sure we’ll keep writing fun things about Trout for a long time to come.

2012 (CF) – 2012 (LF) – 2013 (CF) – 2013 (LF) – 2014 – 2015 – 2016 – 2017 – 2018 – 2019 – 2020 – 2021 – 2022 – 2023 – 2024

Earlier today, Leo Morgenstern examined the state of left field. Now we turn our attention to those who roam center.

Well, it’s finally happened. The picture at the top of this page is not an accident. For the first time since 2013, the Angels no longer sit at the top of the center field positional power rankings. Mike Trout has officially been dethroned. It’s not just that Julio Rodríguez has usurped Trout’s role as the High King of All Center Field. Trout isn’t even in the top three. This occasion is momentous enough that I’ve devoted a separate article to Trout’s decade-long reign, but our purposes here, let’s take a look at what this shift says about the state of center field in 2024. Read the rest of this entry »

How about this: How about you and I forget for a couple minutes that we’re at FanGraphs, deep in the stat-swamped soul of the sabermetrics community? Let’s just pretend you’re reading an article on a website with a name like SuperCoolBaseballStuff.com. This is not the time to get lost in the weeds. Spring is in the air, and we’re rhapsodizing about the smell of the freshly cut grass. The birds have returned, and they’re waking us up at dawn with their incessant noises. Now is the time to be excited about baseball (and annoyed about the birds), and quite simply, nobody does more exciting stuff on a baseball field than Oneil Cruz and Elly De La Cruz. So let’s keep it simple. Let’s talk about all the superlatives that make the pair so exciting as we race toward the 2024 season.

For the first time, both Cruz and De La Cruz will be in the show at the same time. Cruz was called up for good in June 2022, and he finished the season on a high note, running a 133 wRC+ over the final month. He came into 2023 with the stated goal of a 30-30 season, but in just his ninth game, he fractured his left fibula during a collision at the plate. De La Cruz was called up in June 2023 and promptly went supernova. He ran a 179 wRC+ with eight stolen bases and 10 extra-base hits over his first 16 games, but struggled over the last few months. This year, they’ll be the Opening Day shortstops for their respective teams, and Cruz is on record saying that his ankle feels not just 100%, but 200%, which may very well be a record.

Somehow, the two players are extremely similar while also being completely unprecedented. The similarities start with their surnames, and then there’s the fact that they’re both young, ridiculously tall shortstops who hail from the Dominican Republic and play in the NL Central. The height thing is likely a bigger deal than you realize. Cruz is 6’7” and De La Cruz is 6’5”. According to Stathead, that makes them just the seventh and eighth players ever to be 6’5” or taller and play a single inning of shortstop in, ahem, the bigs. They’re the only ones ever to be regular starters at the position; those other six combined for a total of 113 games at short. You’re not going to believe this, but until Cruz dethroned him, the leader was Michael Morse, with 57 games. The 6’5” Morse, who finished his career with -73.2 total defensive runs, totaled 450 innings at short for the Mariners in 2005, racking up -13 DRS and a UZR/150 of -20.9.

Cruz and De La Cruz have both played in exactly 98 big league games, and their skillsets are nearly identical, as well. They’ve both walked 35 times, struck out 33.7% of the time, and posted batting averages and on-base percentages within two points of one another. Here’s what that similarity looks like courtesy of some cherry-picked Baseball Savant sliders:

Not that it matters much, but 2022 Cruz is on the left and 2023 De La Cruz is on the right. There’s so much red and so much blue. These are insanely fun profiles. Cruz and De La Cruz do everything at 100 miles per hour, except for hitting the baseball, which they do at 120. They run like cheetahs who were genetically modified for maximum speed and then shot out of a cannon. They crush baseballs like PETA-members who just found out that the baseballs were responsible for performing the illegal experiments on those cheetahs. They throw the ball over to first as if they heard you get an extra out if you manage to blast it right through the first baseman’s solar plexus. They whiff like they think they can generate enough wind power to solve the climate crisis all by themselves. They’re boom and bust personified. They’re the middle schoolers who figured out that you could game the typing test by absolutely going for broke, because 150 words per minute minus a 50% error rate still leaves you at 75 words per minute. They’re like basketball played on roller skates. It’s poetry when it works, carnage when it doesn’t, and impossible to turn away from.

As for whether the whole package will work, well that’s trickier. Here are the final grades the two players received from our prospect team upon graduation:

Again, the numbers are very similar, but Cruz, all of two inches taller, has a tougher path defensively. He’s always been capable of making a great play, but he’s never looked like a sure thing at short, in terms of either range or hands, and he didn’t look at home in left field when the Pirates tried him out there in the minors. In 2022, he graded out as a hair above average according to DRS, but the other defensive metrics didn’t love him. As he continues to fill out, he’s less likely to maintain his speed and range. On the other hand, he owns a career 106 wRC+. He managed to cut his chase and whiff rates toward the end of 2022. In the short samples of 12 LiDOM games and nine MLB games, he boasted vastly improved walk and strikeout rates in 2023. Those trends have now held through nine spring training games as well, long enough for Cruz to tie for the MLB lead with five homers.

As Robert Orr demonstrated over at Baseball Prospectus, the switch-hitting De La Cruz made his own plate discipline gains during the 2023 season, going from a 38.8% chase rate in July to 25.7% in September and October. In fact, according to Pitcher List, by the end of the season, his swing decisions were well above average.

Although he ended the season on a low note in terms of performance, De La Cruz actually posted a .334 xwOBA in September and October, his best figure of the season by a wide margin. De La Cruz put up a 24.5% HR/FB in 2023, 10th-highest among qualified players, but that masked the fact that his 53.9% groundball rate was the 11th-highest. It’s possible that chasing less soft stuff below the zone will help him to put more balls in the air going forward. Even if that doesn’t happen, it’s possible that he’ll just keep hitting the ball hard enough that he doesn’t need to lift it very often to do damage. Moreover, De La Cruz is better positioned to stick at shortstop. He graded out well according to OAA and UZR, though DRS and DRP were less impressed. Importantly, he’s also just 22, and he has time to improve. Although he put up just an 84 wRC+ last year, his defense and his propensity to take any and every base helped him put up 1.7 WAR in his 98 games.

For both players, the future has some truly massive error bars. They’re just 22 and 25 years old, and they’ve yet to play a full season’s worth of games. With apologies to Michael Morse, there just aren’t many comparable players we can look to for insights on their development. Their tools are so preposterous that their ceiling is somewhere out by the asteroid belt. But their long levers and their unproven eyes could keep them from ever making enough contact to take advantage of all that power. All the same, even if they just manage to stick it out as league-average shortstops, they’ll achieve it by way of some of the most electric, entertaining baseball the world has ever seen. They’ll also be doing it in an era where each 100 mph throw from deep in the hole and each 122 mph rocket off the bat can be tracked and marveled at in all its gaudy splendor. It’s time to get excited.

A couple of weeks ago, I spent too much time staring at the back of the Target Field pitcher’s mound. Like, way, way too much time. I watched hundreds of video clips. I scoured pictures from image services, social media, and satellites. It could have been boring. It probably should have been boring, but I was looking for the answer to a question that I found interesting, and that was enough. At a certain point, I realized I had another interesting question on a subject that should have been even more boring. I’d been staring at the mound for so long that I started wondering about the spiky little mat that pitchers use to scrape the mud out of their spikes. Where did it come from? How long has it been there? Why haven’t I ever actually seen a pitcher use one? How is it possible that I’ve been watching baseball my entire life and never once thought about this thing before? It might be the only object on a baseball field whose name I don’t know. I must have spent more time looking at that white piece of plastic or rubber or whatever-the-hell-it-is than I’ve spent looking at anyone I love, and yet for the life of me, until two weeks ago I don’t think I’d ever spent one second thinking about it. So I started thinking about it.

That spiky little mat is called a cleat cleaner. Because teams often auction off game-used cleat cleaners, you can find some pretty good pictures of them. The ones that get sold are usually from memorable games, like no-hitters, playoff games, or really any game where the cleat cleaner was touched by Shohei Ohtani:

Read the rest of this entry »

It’s almost March! It’s time for the weather to feel like it should be changing, only for it to not really change for a couple more weeks. It’s time for the very first baseball of the year. It’s time for massive overreactions to the tiniest sample sizes imaginable. With that in mind, sound the alarm: Spencer Strider threw three curveballs! “What’s that,” you say? “Spencer Strider doesn’t throw a curveball,” you say? Welcome to 2024, my friend, where anything is possible (except for opaque pants, apparently).

Earlier this month, there was some confusion about the pitch, as Strider indicated that he was simply playing with the shape of his slider. However, since then, both he and Brian Snitker have confirmed that the pitch is a curveball. He’s thrown it in live batting practice and in Saturday’s spring training game against the Rays. It’s the second pitch in the video below:

Olson and Strider.

Nice battle. pic.twitter.com/X5F0NXb0ue

— Grant McAuley (@grantmcauley) February 19, 2024

Read the rest of this entry »

We will not be breaking new ground today. What you read in this article won’t change the way you understand baseball. However, it might help you to appreciate a few baseball players for who they are, and that strikes me as a noble goal. A couple weeks ago, Ben Clemens introduced Whomps Per Whiff, a stat that divides barrels by whiffs in order to show “how often you absolutely whomp the ball, as compared to how often your swing results in nothing but a tiny gust of air.” It was a remarkably simple way of looking at hitting, and the leaderboard featured some of the best hitters in baseball. It was also a fun article, and I agreed with several of its underlying premises:

• If there’s one thing baseball doesn’t have enough of, it’s statistics.
• Anybody can make up a statistic, as long as they have a dream in their heart and a copy of Microsoft Excel.
• It’s important that those statistics have silly names. That’s why I’ve been lobbying to have people pronounce wRC+ as “Work-Plus,” preferably in a Rihanna voice.
• The word whomp is decidedly fun.

Read the rest of this entry »

Well, Mike Rizzo wasn’t joking. At the Washington Nationals’ spring training facility, behind each of the 11 home plates in the bullpen, there are signs posted, and they’re not printed on paper. Somebody in the organization shelled out to have “I don’t care how fast you throw ball four” printed on canvas, in team colors, with a border all around and a logo at the bottom. The grommets at each corner, which allow them to be zip-tied tightly to the fence, probably cost extra. No National will throw a bullpen without seeing those signs for the next month. Whenever the team decides to remove them, somebody is going to have a rough a time cutting through all that thick plastic. It’ll take some doing.

Mike Rizzo was not joking when he said they would have these signs at spring training.

“I don’t care how fast you throw ball four.” pic.twitter.com/tT9x1Pv6yi

— Andrew Golden (@andrewcgolden) February 14, 2024

Rizzo road tested the line at the team’s annual hot stove event in January, and it brought down the house, earning sustained laughter and an applause break. In the absolute most literal sense, he’s right. If a pitch ends up as ball four, who cares how hard it was thrown? You might as well huck it up there underhanded like a cricket bowler. But that’s not really how baseball works. The pitcher doesn’t know beforehand whether the batter is going to swing, so let’s take Rizzo a shade less literally and look at how fastballs perform when they’re thrown in three-ball counts. The graph below shows four-seamers and sinkers, bucketed in one mile per hour increments. I went back and checked the numbers a second time because the line is so straight that the graph looks like it was airbrushed:

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I’m biased when it comes to Michael A. Taylor. I know that. I’ve watched him hit too many big homers and unleash too many rockets from deep center not to root for him. For a long time, that meant rooting for him to figure it out at the plate. A Taylor who could just lay off a few more balls, who could just whiff a bit less – OK, a lot less — would have been an incredible weapon. But Taylor is entering his age 33 season, and those dreams died long ago, one flailing strikeout at a time. These days, rooting for Taylor doesn’t mean wishing for him to develop new skills; it means hoping that he finds a nice comfortable place to demonstrate the ones he actually has.

In 2021, Taylor took home a Gold Glove and rated as the best defender in all of baseball according to multiple defensive metrics. Over the past two seasons, he still rated as a plus defender (except according to DRP, which rated him as a net negative defensively 2023). Taylor is also coming off the second-best offensive season of his career; he put up a 96 wRC+, balancing out a strikeout rate that jumped all the way to a calamitous 33.5% by launching 21 homers in just 388 plate appearances. There’s no telling whether this approach will stick, but it certainly makes sense for Taylor. Who better to sell out for power than someone who’s not going to make enough contact no matter what he tries? Taylor boasts one other important skill: health. According to Baseball Prospectus, when Taylor missed 15 days with a hamstring strain last season, it marked the longest absence of his entire big league career.

In all, Taylor has spent 10 years in the big leagues, and despite his 82 wRC+, he’s averaged 1.6 WAR per 150 games. If you want to be generous, you could discount the -0.1 WAR Taylor totaled in his 2014 cup of coffee and 2015 rookie season, leaving you with 1.9 per 150 games. Over the past three seasons, that number is nearly 2.0 on the dot. Surely, there’s a team out there that could use no. 34 on our Top 50 Free Agents list, a league-average center fielder who doesn’t get on base but has a great glove and some pop. Read the rest of this entry »

I’m so glad you’re here. If you’re reading this, you’re a general manager who has finally accepted the simple truth: Your team is a mess, and it’s time to rebuild. That’s a hard pill for anyone to swallow. It’s much easier to live in denial and hurl insults at Dan Szymborski when the ZiPS projections come out. I’m proud of you. An exciting but tenuous path lies before you. Ownership won’t be spending any more money to prop open the contention window. Now that you’ve come to terms with that reality, it’s time to get your fans on board too, and you must do so without making them so angry that they demand a new GM. Fans are a tricky species. They care very much, which is often inconvenient.

The first rule of rebuilding: Never use the word “rebuilding.” People can’t handle it. They’ll gnash their teeth. They’ll rend their garments. They’ll buy every convenience store in the state out of poster board and Sharpies, and spend weeks coming up with devastatingly clever ways to say that you don’t deserve to be gainfully employed. “Rebuilding” is what you do after a tornado destroys your entire town. Nobody wants to think of their beloved baseball team as a patch of land that used to be a house but is now just one wall and a bathtub.

Let’s practice. What’s the word that you’re never, ever allowed to utter? Say it with me…

Okay, see, you immediately failed the test. You should not have said it with me. Rebuilding is what Batman does after Ra’s al Ghul burns his mansion to the ground. It’s painstaking, brick-by-brick work. Sure, you might end up with a Batcave, but there’s all that manual labor that comes first. Read the rest of this entry »

I imagine that everybody here at FanGraphs generates ideas for articles in different ways. Looking at leaderboards is certainly a common method. You click around, sorting by different stats until someone looks out of place. “How did you get all the way up here?” is what the start of a FanGraphs article sounds like. Sometimes ideas take longer to germinate, and sometimes there are twists and turns along the way.

For a while now, I’ve been noticing that Freddie Freeman always seems to pop up near the top of Baseball Savant’s foul ball leaderboard. He finished second to Ozzie Albies in 2023 and second to Bo Bichette in 2022. In 2021, he finished third behind both Bichette and Albies. He finished third again in 2020 and first in 2019, 2018, and 2016. Freeman is one of the best hitters in the game, and since 2016, he has 4,225 foul balls, over 400 more than Francisco Lindor in second place. The names below them are good too: José Abreu, José Ramírez, Marcus Semien, Paul Goldschmidt. You get the picture. That brought me to my first question:

Are foul balls the mark of a good hitter?

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