Few things in baseball are beyond true debate, but one of them is this: As I write, Mike Trout’s major league career could end this instant, and he would be a no-questions-asked Hall of Famer. With the minimum ten major league seasons to qualify on his jacket, Trout has credentials that mark him objectively as the fifth best center fielder ever to play the game.

If you’re my age and you, too, remember seeing Willie Mays and Mickey Mantle still within their primes, you probably thought you’d never see anyone better. Until Barry Bonds, before that other stuff compromised his image, his reputation, and his true value in the eyes of many still. Then, you might have thought you’d never see better than Bonds, until you saw Trout.

For the decade of 2012-2020, Trout joined the arguments over the greatest player who ever suited up for a major league team. His achievements are laid out in enough black ink to fill a regular-size bottle for a fountain pen. One of them isn’t, however. The minute I say it, you’re probably going to sense a few million tempers—including your own, possibly—throwing the kind of tantrums that would make Earl Weaver resemble Edmund Burke:

Mike Trout at this writing is a lifetime .675 batter.

And only one member of the Hall of Fame who played all or most of his career in the post-World War II/post-integration/night baseball era batted higher than Trout.

Trout is a lifetime .304 hitter, of course. For those comparing him to incumbent or should-be Hall of Famers, he’s one point ahead of a guy who’d be there if he hadn’t treated Rule 21(d) like an unwritten rule. He’s also two points ahead of a guy once thought to have the cleanest shot at pushing Babe Ruth out of the career home run leadership until age caught up to him a little too soon.

I hope you noticed I began by saying Mike Trout is a lifetime .675 batter but continued by saying he’s a lifetime .304 hitter. As Edward R. Murrow used to say, I can hear it now: What manner of brain damage prompted you to do that? you may ask. What manner of brain damage prompts you to continue placing a badly-flawed, even fraudulent statistic, on the highest pedestal from which you judge a player? I would ask in reply.

The brain damage is actually not with either you or me. You’ve been misled. The “batting average” to which you still plight your measurement troth deceives you. You’ve known for a lifetime that it’s calculated with hits divided by official at-bats. You may or may not notice that to qualify for the “batting title” a player must have 3.1 plate appearances per team game; or, 501 plate appearances in a full 162-game season.

Perhaps it didn’t cross your mind before that something’s wrong right then and there. You didn’t think to ask, and it’s not even close to your fault, what is the logic or common sense when you need X number of plate appearances to qualify for the “batting title,” but your “batting average” divides only your hits by your official at-bats?

The 2019 National League “batting title” was a dead heat between Arizona’s Ketel Marte and Milwaukee’s Christian Yelich: they each hit .329. Marte had 569 official at-bats and Yelich had 489 official at-bats and 580 plate appearances. Between them, there were 150 times (Marte: 59; Yelich: 91) that they didn’t exist at the plate according to official at-bats.

Except that they did exist at the plate those 150 additional times. You saw them there. Unless mine eyes have been deceived, I saw them there. They had bats on their shoulders. They didn’t exactly plan to leave those bats on those shoulders, either. They also did things other than making 734 outs between them (Marte: 393; Yelich: 341) or bagging 348 hits between them (Marte: 187; Yelich: 161)—and those hits weren’t all a pile of singles, either.

“Batting average,” Branch Rickey once wrote, “is only a partial means of determing a man’s effectiveness on offense.” (1) Partial, my foot. Not only does it reject everything else you do at the plate when you’re not making outs, it says, essentially, that all hits are equal. Unless you and me both have been deceived more deeply than I suspect, all hits are not equal.

You may be the most stubbornly pigheaded clinger to “batting average” as the alpha and omega of prowess at the plate, but quick. Tell me a single equals a double. Tell me a double equals a triple. Tell me a triple equals a home run. Tell me a solo home run equals a two-run homer. Tell me a two-run homer equals a three-run homer. Tell me any of those bombs equal a grand slam.

Remember when you played baseball growing up? Remember hearing your coaches hollering while you were at the plate, “A walk’s as good as a hit?” Well, if a walk’s as good as a hit, why doesn’t it factor into the “batting average?” The last time I looked, a batter who took a walk or accepted an intentional walk didn’t return to the dugout until or unless he was out further along on the bases.

If you can tell me yes about the hits, I still have a beach club for sale below market rate—in Antarctica. If you know in your heart that you can’t tell me yes, with a straight face or otherwise, then I feel safer telling you that, in 2019, Mike Trout was a .745 batter. I feel just as safe, too, telling you that Pete Alonso, the New York Mets’ 2019 Rookie of the Year, was actually a .600+ batter. (Come to think of it, what first baseman Alonso was in 2019, Hall of Fame first baseman Jim Thome was for his entire career: a .sub-.280 hitter but a .600+ batter.)

Welcome to my world of Real Batting Average.

This is the world in which I determine, as best I can with what I have, the total value of everything a man does to reach base from the batter’s box. The world in which I satisfy myself—and hope to satisfy you, dear reader—that there just might be teams who haven’t lost their minds signing “dinky” .260 hitters to luminous lucre because those teams know those players are run creative and productive above and beyond enough to be. 400, .500, or even .600 batters. Even if they don’t yet refer to Real Batting Averages. The world in which the “batting average”—which shall be called a hitting average from this point forward—is sent to jail. Directly to jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect $20,000. (Ever wonder why Monopoly has never adjusted for inflation?)

I’ll pause so you can stop laughing.

Good. Catch a breath. Now hear (well, read) me out.

For one thing, I don’t know for dead last certain if I actually invented Real Batting Average. I’ve read exquisite arguments against the hitting average by Branch Rickey, Keith Law, Brian Kenny, and other analysts, in which one and all of them referenced the elements that go into Real Batting Average . . . without putting them into a formula and giving the result the name I’ve given it.

But since I’ve put it into a formula and given it a name, you might as well credit me or blame me, depending on your point of view. I will hand Law a tip of the beak; it was while reading his imperative book, Smart Baseball, that I first thought of the term Real Batting Average. Law’s leadoff batter was a takedown of “batting average” in which he mentioned the elements I’d put into a formula for tabulating it but never suggested such a formula himself. (If you think you’re going to be P.O.ed at me, you should know that Kenny, writing Ahead of the Curve, titled one chapter, “The Tyranny of the Batting Average.” Bless him.)

At the time I finally began reading Smart Baseball, I had concurrent occasion to review the late Dick Allen’s Hall of Fame case. (Two words: He belongs. I will show you soon enough that Allen, too, was a lifetime .600+ batter.) The review was instigated by a fellow online forum participant who said he didn’t want to see the Hall of Fame open to men like Allen who fell short of 3,000 lifetime hits. The fact that there are legitimate Hall of Famers who fall short of the Talismanic Three Thousand tends to elude recall on many occasions. (Feel free. Tell the world you think Babe Ruth has no business in the Hall of Fame because he didn’t reach the Talismanic Three Thousand, either.)

The Hall of Fame is (or should be) about greatness, and not compilation. So I looked closely at Allen’s record as it actually was. Yes, it’s true: Allen and his great contemporary, Tony Oliva, who also deserves to be in the Hall of Fame, came up short of 3,000 hits. What the hell, Allen and Oliva each came up short of 2,000 hits. Their careers were compromised enough by injuries that they didn’t get to experience the natural, expected decline phase great hitters usually experience.

What Allen did when healthy was beyond extraordinary. It only began with his rookie season comparing with extreme favour to Joe DiMaggio’s. We don’t consider Hall of Famers by what they could/might/would have done, but a fair calculation would tell you that injury-free Allen would likely have hit over 500 home runs and injury-free Oliva would likely have hit more than 300. But I digress.

Thus I began my review by asking myself what might be everything we should want to know about Allen at the plate. What did he bring to the table by himself that wasn’t team-dependent, as runs scored and runs batted in are? What was he doing during 983 trips to the plate that didn’t exist because they weren’t “official” at-bats?

(Down, boy/girl. You can’t score without hitting home runs unless the guys behind you in the lineup can drive you home. You can’t drive anyone home if the guys ahead of you can’t reach base in the first place—except yourself, when you hit one out with the bases empty. If you think you can, I’ve just taken a couple of grand off the price of that Antarctican beach club.)

I saw that we ought to look at Allen’s total bases, since that is the number that treats hits the way they should be treated—unequally. If you agree, right then and there you should hold the hitting average in contempt and sentence it to a couple of nights in the clink.

I saw that we should look at Allen’s walks, never mind the poor souls who think even today that they are either cheap, lazy, or both. It doesn’t seem to cross their minds that the batter with the eye acute enough and the concentration strong enough to stop him from swinging at pitches that can’t be hit—because they’re filthy enough to tie even a Hall of Famer into knots, because they’re out of the strike zones, because he lacks the reach, because he’s a batter and not a golfer or a tennis player—is superior to the batter who’ll swing at anything within sight, unless the latter is named Yogi Berra or Vladimir Guerrero.  He’d rather reach base, anyway, than strike out swinging or whack into an out. Who the hell does he think he is?

I saw, too, that we should look at Allen’s intentional walks. Of course those are folded into his walk totals. But I believe, and so should you, that a batter should get all due extra credit when the other guys would rather he take his base than their pitcher’s head off.

I saw further that we should look at Allen’s sacrifice flies. They mean runs crossing the plate. Unlike the sacrifice bunt, a batter isn’t going up to the plate determined or under orders to hit into an out. He wants to rip a base hit or even a home run. Ted Williams didn’t spend his baseball career and afterlife preaching the virtues of sacrifice flying. (Except, most likely, after he agreed by implication to perform such flying when necessary as a Marine pilot.)

And, I saw even further that we should look at the times he was hit by pitches. If the pitcher is willing to drill him, or if the pitcher isn’t trying to drill him but an inside pitch collides with his assorted anatomy anyway, let it be to his credit and on the other guy’s head for letting him reach base on the house. Sure it shows up in his on-base percentage. But he didn’t take one for the team because he took a wild one off his globe in the on-deck circle. (Unless Dr. Anthony Fauci was pitching.)

When I first tinkered with Real Batting Average, I included sacrifice bunts. Then, I thought twice. Why on earth should I give credit for a deliberate, pre-meditated out, regardless of what that out is designed to accomplish? Because 1) there’s no guarantee that the man you just sacrificed is going to end up scoring. And, 2) I am against wasting outs. Outs to work with in baseball are commodities as precious as jadeite is on the mineral exchange. ($3 million a carat; yes, you can look it up.)

Give the other guys an out on the house, and you give yourself one less piece of extremely important wiggle room to put runs on the scoreboard. (Bunt in the ninth inning, when outs make jadeite look about as precious as aluminum foil, and someone should be beaten senseless—except that you can’t beat someone into a pre-existing condition.)

There’s only one time you and me should really want to see a bunt—when there’s one of those defensive overshifts in play, and the batter has acres and acres of yummy real estate offered up as a free gift. I’ll say it again: show me the batter who shenks the Sacred Unwritten Rules and pushes a bunt onto that terrain just begging to be homesteaded, and I’ll show you a man on first on the house.

Total bases. Bases on balls. Intentional bases on balls. (Never mind the still-new rule about just handing the man first base without having to throw four wide ones.) Sacrifice flies. Hit by pitches. Add those, and divide by total plate appearances. Recorded in math, the formula for this Real Batting Average (RBA from now on) isn’t extraterrestrial calculus:

TB + BB + IBB + SF + HBP
PA

A baseball editor of my acquaintance suggested that I was really headed toward just another way to measure weighted on-base average. But then I looked at the wOBA formula and noticed two things:

Thing One—wOBA assigns assorted numbers to unintentional walks, singles, doubles, triples, and home runs that aren’t the bases gained but are intended to suggest their value toward runs. (They fluctuate yearly, depending upon each season’s actual run creation, seemingly.) I get that.

Thing Two—wOBA removes intentional walks from the divisor that equals plate appearances. Remember: Extra credit if they want to put you on first instead of their pitcher into the mausoleum. (Grant that, as a formula, wOBA is a fruit cup compared to the chopped number salads Branch Rickey developed over half a century ago. But still.)

RBA addresses how the batter reached base in the first place. It goes deeper than the hitting average doing so. In that regard, why should a walk, a hit by pitch, or a single be fractions of bases or less than the bases gained with each act?

Now comes the fun part. I’m going to show you all 2019 players who qualified for the “batting title” in each league. (Why not 2020? Short season. Equivalent, more or less, to the first two-fifths of a full season, and wanting a full-season analysis I chose the most recent full season.) Now we’re going to see who the real batting champions were, based on the same 501 plate appearances required to qualify for the “batting title.”

First, the National League, in which 69 players had 501 plate appearances or more in 2019, and sixteen batted .600 or better:

2019 NL Qualifiers	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Christian Yelich	580	328	80	16	3	8	.750
Cody Bellinger	661	351	95	21	4	3	.717
Anthony Rendon	646	326	80	8	9	12	.673
Josh Bell	613	300	74	13	7	5	.651
Pete Alonso	693	348	72	6	3	21	.649
Nolen Arenado	662	343	62	11	8	0	.640
Eugenio Suarez	662	329	70	4	6	11	.634
Ketel Marte	628	337	53	2	2	4	.633
Anthony Rizzo	613	266	86	3	3	27	.628
Freddie Freeman	692	328	87	11	2	6	.627
Charlie Blackmon	634	334	40	1	5	9	.614
Bryce Harper	682	292	99	11	4	6	.604
Josh Donaldson	659	286	100	2	2	8	.604
Kyle Schwarber	610	281	70	5	6	5	.602
Trevor Story	656	326	58	0	3	7	.601
Max Muncy	589	251	90	1	4	8	.601
Joc Pederson	514	242	50	2	2	12	.599
Kris Bryant	634	283	74	1	2	15	.591
Jeff McNeil	567	271	35	2	1	21	.582
Ronald Acuna, Jr.	715	324	76	4	1	9	.579
Michael Conforto	648	271	84	5	5	10	.579
Mike Moustakas	584	270	53	5	2	6	.575
Justin Turner	549	244	51	1	5	14	.574
Yasmani Grandal	632	240	109	2	5	5	.571
Juan Soto	659	297	65	3	6	3	.567
Rhys Hoskins	705	259	116	6	6	11	.565
Javier Baez	561	282	28	3	2	0	.561
Eduardo Escobar	699	325	50	3	10	3	.559
Ozzie Albies	702	320	54	6	4	4	.553
Bryan Reynolds	546	247	46	0	3	6	.553
Christian Walker	603	252	67	6	1	6	.551
Ryan Braun	508	232	34	1	3	8	.547
Trea Turner	569	259	43	2	2	3	.543
Starling Marte	586	271	25	1	4	16	.541
Paul Goldschmidt	682	284	78	2	3	2	.541
J.T. Realmuto	593	265	41	2	8	5	.541
Starling Marte	586	271	25	1	4	16	.541
Corey Seager	541	236	44	3	4	4	.538
Marcell Ozuna	549	229	62	2	1	1	.537
Brian Anderson	520	215	44	1	3	14	.533
Jean Segura	618	242	73	1	3	8	.529
Manny Machado	661	271	65	3	3	6	.526
Paul DeJong	664	259	62	1	6	13	.514
Jason Heyward	589	220	68	5	3	5	.511
Ryan McMahon	539	216	56	1	1	1	.510
Nick Ahmed	625	243	52	2	12	4	.501
Evan Longoria	508	198	43	1	5	7	.500
Dexter Fowler	574	199	74	1	4	8	.498
Brandon Belt	616	212	83	3	4	3	.495
Joey Votto	608	216	76	2	3	4	.495
Kolten Wong	549	202	47	5	5	13	.495
Adam Eaton	656	242	65	0	3	13	.492
Dansby Swanson	545	204	51	2	5	5	.490
Kevin Newman	531	220	28	2	1	7	.486
Kevin Newman	531	220	28	2	1	7	.486
Wilson Ramos	524	197	44	5	3	4	.483
Victor Robles	617	229	35	3	5	25	.481
Colin Moran	503	200	30	4	4	3	.479
Kevin Pillar	628	263	18	4	6	9	.478
Starlin Castro	676	277	28	2	9	3	.472
Eric Hosmer	667	263	40	3	5	3	.471
Adam Frazier	608	231	40	4	1	9	.469
Amed Rosario	655	266	31	2	3	3	.465
Adam Jones	528	201	31	2	3	8	.464
Cesar Hernandez	667	250	45	4	4	0	.454
Jose Iglesias	530	205	20	3	2	3	.440
Lorenzo Cain	623	209	50	0	4	6	.432
Miguel Rojas	526	183	32	2	5	5	.432
Brandon Crawford	560	175	53	5	4	3	.429
Orlando Arcia	546	173	43	5	6	1	.418

Now, the American League, in which 63 players had 501 plate appearances or more in 2019, and sixteen batted .600 or better:

2019 AL Qualifiers	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Mike Trout	600	303	110	14	4	16	.745
Nelson Cruz	521	290	56	8	3	7	.699
Alex Bregman	690	328	119	2	8	9	.675
Francisco Lindor	654	310	98	9	6	3	.651
George Springer	556	283	67	1	4	6	.649
Eddie Rosario	590	281	86	2	6	0	.636
Jorge Soler	679	335	73	3	4	10	.626
J.D. Martinez	657	320	72	9	5	4	.624
Austin Meadows	591	296	54	6	0	7	.614
Xander Bogaerts	698	341	76	2	6	2	.612
Carlos Santana	686	295	108	12	2	3	.612
Mookie Betts	706	313	97	6	9	3	.606
Rafael Devers	702	359	48	7	2	4	.598
Trey Mancini	679	322	63	3	5	9	.592
Yoan Moncada	559	280	40	2	3	4	.589
Jose Altuve	548	275	41	0	3	3	.588
Gleyber Torres	604	292	48	3	6	3	.583
Marcus Semien	747	343	87	2	1	2	.582
Yuli Gurriel	612	305	37	2	6	5	.580
Max Kepler	596	272	60	0	4	8	.577
Hunter Dozier	586	273	55	2	5	3	.577
Matt Chapman	670	295	73	0	3	11	.569
Danny Santana	511	253	25	2	5	6	.569
D.J. LeMahieu	655	312	46	0	4	2	.556
Brett Gardner	550	247	52	0	3	4	.556
Luke Voit	510	199	71	2	1	9	.553
Jose Abreu	693	319	36	4	10	13	.551
Eloy Jimenez	504	240	30	0	2	4	.548
Kole Calhoun	632	258	70	7	2	7	.544
Jose Ramirez	542	231	52	3	6	2	.542
Shin-Soo Choo	660	256	78	3	1	18	.539
Daniel Vogelbach	558	203	92	2	2	2	.539
Jorge Polanco	704	306	60	2	7	4	.538
Tommy Pham	654	255	81	4	1	5	.529
Tim Anderson	518	253	15	0	2	3	.527
Matt Olson	547	263	51	7	1	12	.527
Christian Vazquez	521	230	33	3	3	0	.516
Whit Merrifield	735	315	45	9	5	4	.514
Renato Nunez	599	249	44	1	4	10	.514
Avisail Garcia	530	227	31	2	3	7	.509
Jonathan Villar	714	291	61	0	4	4	.504
Domingo Santana	507	199	50	1	2	2	.501
Rougned Odor	581	229	52	2	1	5	.497
Andrew Benintendi	615	233	59	1	5	7	.496
Jackie Bradley, Jr.	567	208	56	3	2	12	.496
Randal Grichuk	628	268	35	0	2	5	.494
Albert Pujols	545	211	43	1	8	3	.488
Vlad. Guerrero, Jr.	514	201	46	0	2	2	.488
Michael Brantley	637	289	51	3	4	7	.484
Jurickson Profar	518	188	48	2	3	8	.481
Alex Gordon	633	220	51	4	6	19	.474
Willy Adames	584	222	46	1	1	3	.467
Miguel Cabrera	549	196	48	4	5	3	.466
Jason Kipnis	511	188	40	2	6	2	.466
Josh Reddick	550	205	36	1	9	0	.456
Khris Davis	533	186	47	3	2	3	.452
Hanser Alberto	550	221	16	1	3	4	.445
David Fletcher	653	229	55	2	1	0	.440
Elvis Andrus	648	236	34	1	10	4	.440
Leury Garcia	618	218	21	0	3	11	.409
Mallex Smith	566	171	42	0	1	11	.398
Yolmer Sanchez	555	159	44	1	3	5	.382

Go ahead and say it. RBA says it. There were three .700+ batters in the Show in 2019. Maybe it’s time to quit saying baseball’s a game of 70 percent failure because RBA says baseball can be and sometimes is a game of 50, 60, 70 percent success.

When the Washington Nationals let Bryce Harper walk as a free agent and won the 2019 World Series in their first season without him, enough Nats and other fans crowed as if according to a script that lo! we were right, the Nats were better off with the guy who replaced him in right field to reach the Promised Land.

Oh? Aside from Harper hitting better in high leverage situations than Adam Eaton hit that year (Harper: 1.037 OPS; Eaton: .638 OPS), RBA says otherwise, too:

	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Bryce Harper, 2019	682	292	99	11	4	6	.604
Adam Eaton, 2019	656	242	65	0	3	9	.486

Harper’s detractors love to carp about his .276 lifetime hitting average. They loved snorting that the Philadelphia Phillies overpaid squared for him when he signed that $330 million/thirteen-year contract. Well, snort this:

	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Bryce Harper, career to date	4883	2088	733	89	40	31	.610

RBA says Harper is better than his detractors think, and that’s despite the injuries that often compromise his seasons. It also says that, sure, the 2019 Nats won the World Series without him, but they’d have had an easier time doing it with him. Harper’s not exactly Mike Trout’s level of all-around great (and Trout has dealt with a few injury issues himself), but a healthy Harper entering his age 28 season, and an on-base machine still, could find himself back on the Hall of Fame track soon enough.

How about some truly mad fun? Let’s examine through RBA all the Hall of Fame position players who played all or most of their careers in the post-World War II/post-integration/night-ball era.

For the sake of Dick Allen, who deserved the honour before his death in December 2020, I’ll include him and his great contemporary Tony Oliva. I’ll include Minnie Minoso—like Allen, he should have been elected to Cooperstown during his lifetime. (I would love to have Minoso’s complete Negro Leagues numbers to factor in, but the complete statistical story isn’t available yet.)

I’ll also include one man who would be in the Hall of Fame, if not for (ahem) the other stuff, including him among the men who played the position where he was actually the most valuable among the several positions he did play throughout his career. I’ll even include another man who would be in the Hall of Fame, if not for his other stuff, actual or alleged; I’ll consider just the seasons that even his most tunnel-visioned detractors acknowledge would have made him a Hall of Famer if he had just those seasons to show. (Please try to resist cracking wisenheimer when you see the result.)

And, just for fun, I’ll include further that certain Angel who’d be a no-questions-asked Hall of Famer if his career ended unexpectedly, right now, since his peak and career values a) are both higher than the average Hall of Fame center fielder; and, b) rank him the number five center fielder ever. You’ll see Allen, Oliva, Minoso, Mr. Other Stuff, Mr. Other Other Stuff, and That Certain Angel in bold.

There’s one catch, however—sacrifice flies. The sacrifice fly wasn’t made an official statistic until the 1954 season. Several of the following Hall of Famers played a third or more of their seasons prior to the rule coming on line. How to  overcome that hole?

I tinkered with a few ideas until I tripped over a best-case scenario. I took those players’ numbers of recorded sacrifice flies and divided them by the number of seasons they played under the rule. Then, I took that result and multiplied it by the number of Show seasons they actually played. The formula is sacrifice flies (SF) divided by sacrifice fly-rule seasons (SRS), multiplied by MLB seasons. Or, if you insist on seeing it in mathematese:

SF / SRS x YRS

Thus I had as best as I could get to the total number of sacrifice flies you could have expected those players to hit all career long. I marked their sacrifice fly numbers with (*).

Now, on to those Cooperstown RBAs.

Catchers	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Mike Piazza	7745	3768	759	146	45	30	.613
Roy Campanella	4815	2101	533	113	50*	30	.587
Johnny Bench	8674	3644	891	135	90	19	.551
Yogi Berra	8359	3643	704	91	95*	52	.549
Carlton Fisk	9853	3999	849	105	79	143	.525
Ted Simmons	9,685	3793	855	188	100	39	.514
Gary Carter	9019	3497	848	106	99	68	.512
Ivan Rodriguez	10270	4451	513	67	76	58	.503
HOF AVG							.543

First Base	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Jim Thome	10313	4667	1747	173	74	69	.653
Jeff Bagwell	9431	4213	1401	155	102	128	.636
Willie McCovey	9692	4219	1345	260	70	69	.615
Harmon Killebrew	9833	4143	1559	160	77	48	.609
Orlando Cepeda	8698	3959	588	154	74	102	.561
Eddie Murray	12817	5397	1333	222	128	18	.554
Tony Perez	10861	4532	925	150	106	43	.526
HOF AVG							.593

Second Base	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Jackie Robinson	5804	2310	740	61	30*	72	.550
Joe Morgan	11329	3962	1865	76	96	40	.533
Ryne Sandberg	9282	3787	761	59	71	34	.507
Roberto Alomar	10400	4018	1032	62	97	50	.506
Craig Biggio	12504	4711	1160	68	81	285	.504
Rod Carew	10550	3998	1018	144	44	25	.496
Red Schoendienst	9224	3284	606	30	38*	21	.431
Nellie Fox	10351	3347	719	30	76*	142	.417
Bill Mazeroski	8379	2848	447	110	70	20	.417
HOF AVG							.484

Shortstop	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Ernie Banks	10395	4706	763	202	96	70	.562
Barry Larkin	9057	3527	939	66	67	55	.514
Cal Ripken	12883	5168	1129	107	127	66	.512
Derek Jeter	12602	4921	1082	39	58	170	.498
Robin Yount	12249	4730	966	95	123	48	.487
Alan Trammell	9376	3442	850	48	76	37	.475
Pee Wee Reese	9470	3038	1210	67	64*	26	.465
Phil Rizzuto	6719	2065	651	35	26*	49	.416
Ozzie Smith	10778	3084	1072	79	63	33	.402
Luis Aparicio	11230	3504	736	22	76	27	.387
HOF AVG							.472

Third Base	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Mike Schmidt	10062	4404	1507	201	108	79	.626
Chipper Jones	10614	4755	1512	177	97	18	.618
Dick Allen	7315	3379	894	138	53	16	.612
Eddie Mathews	10100	4349	1444	142	58	26	.596
George Brett	11625	5044	1096	229	120	33	.561
Ron Santo	9397	3779	1108	94	94	38	.544
Wade Boggs	10740	4064	1412	180	96	23	.538
Paul Molitor	12167	4854	1094	100	109	47	.510
Brooks Robinson	11782	4270	860	120	114	53	.458
HOF AVG							.563

Left Field	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Ted Williams	9788	4884	2021	243	57*	39	.740
Barry Bonds	7403	3343	1227	260	62	42	.666
Ralph Kiner	6256	2852	1011	90	40*	24	.642
Willie Stargell	9027	4190	937	227	75	78	.610
Billy Williams	10519	4599	1045	182	73	43	.565
Jim Rice	9058	4129	670	77	94	64	.556
Carl Yastrzemski	13992	5539	1845	190	105	40	.552
Minnie Minoso	7713	3023	814	43	85*	192	.539
Rickey Henderson	13346	4588	2190	61	67	98	.525
Tim Raines	10359	3771	1330	148	76	42	.518
Pete Rose	15890	5752	1566	167	79	107	.483
Lou Brock	11240	4238	761	124	46	49	.464
HOF AVG							.563

Center Field	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Mike Trout	5514	2642	838	104	52	84	.675
Mickey Mantle	9907	4511	1733	148	47	13	.651
Willie Mays	12496	6066	1464	214	91	44	.631
Ken Griffey, Jr.	11304	5271	1312	246	102	81	.620
Duke Snider	8237	3865	971	154	54*	21	.615
Larry Doby	6299	2621	871	60	39*	38	.576
Andre Dawson	10769	4787	589	143	118	111	.534
Kirby Puckett	7831	3453	450	85	58	56	.524
Richie Ashburn	9736	3196	1198	40	30*	43	.463
HOF AVG							.588

Right Field	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Stan Musial	12718	6134	1599	298	110*	53	.644
Larry Walker	8030	3904	913	117	65	138	.640
Vladimir Guerrero	9059	4506	737	250	64	103	.625
Frank Robinson	11742	5373	1420	218	102	198	.624
Henry Aaron	13941	6856	1402	293	121	32	.624
Reggie Jackson	11418	4834	1375	164	68	96	.573
Al Kaline	11596	4852	1277	133	104	55	.554
Dave Winfield	12358	5221	1216	172	95	25	.545
Tony Oliva	6880	3002	448	131	57	59	.537
Roberto Clemente	10211	4492	621	167	66	35	.527
Tony Gwynn	10232	4259	790	203	85	24	.524
HOF AVG							.583

Designated Hitter	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Frank Thomas	10075	4550	1667	168	121	87	.654
Edgar Martinez	8674	3718	1283	113	77	89	.609
Harold Baines	11092	4604	1062	187	99	14	.538
HOF AVG							.600

You notice that there’s only one among the Hall of Famers of this era who batted .700+ lifetime. Twenty-one others (including Trout) batted .600+ lifetime. The middle-infield Hall of Famers average to sub-.500 RBAs. The center fielders and right fielders are tied for the most .600+ batters among them (five each). But am I the only one shocked to see three .600+ batters among third basemen, who play one of the harshest positions around the infield?

You might notice, too, that the largest distinction for any position between the average RBA and the lowest RBA is Richie Ashburn (-113), while the highest such distinction is Ted Williams (+177). But I’ll bet you didn’t think Mike Trout’s first ten Show seasons would finish with him owning the second-highest RBA among all incumbent or in-waiting Hall of Famers, including the untainted version of Barry Bonds.

There are other factors to consider when measuring these players objectively. Some players are in Cooperstown as much or more because of their defense as their work at the plate. (See Bill Mazeroski, Ozzie Smith, and Brooks Robinson.) Several have bucketfuls of black ink. A few got there as much because of what they did after reaching base as what they did at the plate and/or in the field. (Jackie Robinson turned baserunning into guerrilla warfare whether or not he stole a base; Luis Aparicio returned the stolen base as a prime weapon in the mid-1950s; Lou Brock swiped Ty Cobb out of the career stolen base record; and, Rickey Henderson did likewise to Brock.)

We may also ponder the point that Roy Campanella, Ryne Sandberg, Jackie Robinson, Pee Wee Reese, Ernie Banks, Ron Santo, Billy Williams, and Duke Snider might lose RBA points if only through total bases if they played more of their careers in homes other than bandbox ball parks. So might Larry Walker if his six seasons in Coors Canaveral had been played elsewhere, even in a neutral park, though observed fairly those plunks he took for his teams probably inflate his RBA, too.

We might see likely RBA spikes for Jeff Bagwell, Craig Biggio, and Joe Morgan if much of their home cooking wasn’t served in the Astrodome. Or, for Gary Carter, if so much of his wasn’t served in two killer kitchens named Olympic Stadium (Montreal) and Shea Stadium (New York). Maybe even for Trout, who is devilishly close to being the same in both hitter-unfriendly Angel Stadium and on the road:

Mike Trout RBA Splits	PA	TB	BB	IBB	SF	HBP	RBA
Home	2696	1273	444	58	26	41	.683
Road	2818	1369	394	46	26	43	.666

Did you realise that Frank Robinson, Henry Aaron, and Vladimir Guerrero could be that exact a trio of matches when it came to their whole pictures? It should also be comforting that—bandbox home park or otherwise—RBA helps settle once and for all an argument that was stupidity personified no matter when it was waged, and it was waged too damn often in the past: Jackie Robinson would be a Hall of Famer even if he was white.

You may have noticed that the so-called Hit King—if he hadn’t written the script himself that keeps him out of the Hall of Fame—would be the second-lowest RBA among Hall of Fame left fielders. You may have noticed, too, that the guy who’s blocked from Cooperstown because of continuing suspicion about actual or alleged performance-enhancing substances would have the number two RBA among the left fielders behind Teddy Ballgame.

Christian Yelich and Ketel Marte led the 2019 National League with their .329 hitting averages.  Tim Anderson led the 2019 American League with his .335 hitting average. But Yelich in the National League and Mike Trout in the American League were the true 2019 batting champions.

Says who? Says Real Batting Average, says who.

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(1) Branch Rickey, “Goodby to Some Old Baseball Ideas”; Life, 1954.