Read The New Ballgame: Understanding Baseball Statistics for the Casual Fan for Free Online

Who has been passed over for the Hall of Fame? Is Rafael
Palmeiro really one of the greatest sluggers in the history of the game? Does
Pedro Martinez belong in the same breath as Walter Johnson and Christy
Mathewson?
    These debates swirl like a hurricane because we want to compare players to those they never played against and to those we never saw.
    For this elusive context we need proof, and statistics are the closest
thing we have to scientific objectivity. But big-league baseball has evolved in
many ways since the National League's formation in 1876, both confounding cross-era comparisons and making them more fun to argue. As revered statistical records fall and commentators make their cases for Hall of Fame candidacies and "best-ever" tags, keep in mind that competitive conditions vary by
era, sometimes dramatically. Those changes in rules, ballparks, player usage,
and other conditions can be used to make (or tear down) most any claim.

    It's here that the famous quote from nineteenth century British Prime
Minister Benjamin Disraeli gains traction in baseball: "There are lies, damn
lies and statistics."
Dead Ball/ Lively Ball
    In the Dead Ball Era, prior to 1920, baseballs were mushier, easier for pitchers to doctor, and seldom removed from games. Darkened by tobacco juice,
infield dirt, and general wear, the balls used in this era before lighted ballparks were tough to see by mid-game and even tougher to hit far.
    Game tactics-and the statistics they produced-were radically different in the Dead Ball Era.
    The leading home run hitters generally swatted seven to twelve in a season-just enough for a very good month today. Speed and defense were the
essentials every manager looked for. Power was measured more by doubles
and triples than home runs, and speed could get those extra bases. With little
chance of hitting homers, batters bunted more and struck out less. Singles
were responsible for more of the run-production, and players ran the bases
with abandon. With little risk of losing home runs to innings shortened by
baserunning outs, the comparative reward for an extra base was higher. Teams
accepted the risk and were thrown out attempting to steal almost as often as
they made it. For example, in 1911, the New York Giants won the National League pennant by pitching well, hitting
well, and setting a record with 347 stolen
bases. Outfielder Fred Snodgrass, third in
the league with 51 steals, was caught stealing 49 times. Outfielder Josh Devore, second in the league with 61 steals, was caught
41 times.

    When Ty Cobb set a record with 96
stolen bases in 1915, he was the seventh
man to steal 65 or more in a season between
1901 and 1919. Cobb himself did it five
times. Once the Lively Ball era began in
1920, no one reached 65 stolen bases until
1962, when Cobb's record was finally overcome after 47 years.
    In the Lively Ball Era, the ball was
given a livelier cork center and more tightly
stitched leather, resulting in many more home
runs. As power gained prominence, stolen
bases declined. Players who could clobber
the livelier ball beyond the fences thirty times
or more were now considered more valuable than men who could steal thirty bases,
even if the sluggers' lack of speed cost their
teams defensively. In 1920, big leaguers stole
barely more than half the number of bases as they had in the peak of Dead Ball Era daring. Steals dropped another 14% in 1921.
By 1930, stolen bases were down by twothirds from Dead Ball standards, and down
by three-fourths in 1941, the last year before
ballplayers began leaving by the dozens for
World War II. In the 1950s, the entire major
leagues were stealing 600-800 bases per year,
down from 3,000-3,400 per season from
1909 to 1914. The entire American League
stole only 250 bases in 1950, the low-water
mark. Twenty-five teams stole more than that
in Dead Ball seasons.

    In 1930, the so-called
"Year of the Hitter,"
the entire NL, pitchers