Hello, Wilson

The Aaron Judge carnival of wonders, the thumping by Cal Raleigh and Kyle Schwarber, the walloping and run-scoring fusillade from Shohei Ohtani.  In a sense, the 2025 campaign has been largely consumed with the bombers, whether their explosions have been confined to four-baggers or just an integral part of the whole package.  Their offensive proclamations have not only stamped this season as something to draw from daily, but as the most currently available option to reimagine the immortals from another era reemerging.

But, as Umberto Eco wrote in The Name of the Rose, “The beauty of the universe consists not only of unity in variety, but also of variety in unity.”  Enter Jacob Wilson, a 23-year-old rookie suggesting there is a different way to enthrall and so crucially, wend his own path toward making 2025 feel old and new.  Through the games of June 12, the Athletics’ shortstop was slugging .520 with strikeout and walks rates below six percent.  Unlike the whacks and thwacks and electricity from the he-men, which not only conjure the long ago but possess parallels in the here and (recent) now, Wilson’s profile has no analogous representation in the middle year of the second decade of the 21st century; heck, it doesn’t find any companionship in the previous six decades.  Wilson is doing stuff in the batter’s box that hasn’t been seen since there were but 16 Major League teams, one of them residing in Brooklyn.  

Starting from Wilson and gazing back, great chunks of seasons must be bypassed to find another to match his profile in the combination of slugging percentage and strikeout/walk rates.  We take off in the 21st century, achieve cruising altitude above the 90s and 80s and 70s and 60s and only descend and then land when the 1950s come into view:  Vic Power is handling first base duties for the Kansas City Athletics in the first year the franchise has played home games in a city other than Philadelphia.  

It’s 1955.  Ted Williams is crushing it in Boston; Willie Mays is the defending NL MVP; Hank Aaron is in his sophomore campaign and Roberto Clemente is in his debut season; Mickey Mantle is on the rise and Stan Musial is still churning out .300/.400/.500 seasons like they are as natural as any reflex; Jackie Robinson is holding down third base in Brooklyn and his teammate Duke Snider is going stride for stride with the two aforementioned center fielding kings in New York. And Power is slugging .505 with a walk rate at 5.5% and a strikeout rate at 4.2%; Power becomes the last player to qualify for the batting title, slug at least .500 and hold down walk and strikeout rates below six percent for an entire season.  This is the knot in the thread that Wilson is now seeking to pull.  

Once upon a time, batters fitting within Wilson’s profile could be found throughout the big leagues.  Hall of Fame second baseman Nap Lajoie was an industry unto himself, ending six different seasons by meeting the criteria currently fitting the Athletics shortstop from another century ahead.  Lajoie started assembling his lines in the 1890s, when he had companionship in the forms of Hall of Famers Hughie Jennings, Willie Keeler and Sam Thompson, as well as Lave Cross and Buck Freeman, who did it in 1899 when he connected for an astounding 25 home runs (at the time, the second highest tally on record).  

The deadball era from 1900 through 1919 would generate nine more lines (seven from 1900 through 1904 and then two in 1919, one by George Sisler) before exploding – like so many offensive elements – in the 1920s and 1930s.  From 1921 through 1936, there were 20 such individual seasons:  Hall of Famer Heinie Manush produced four of them, Hall of Famers Sisler (1921), Edd Roush (1924), Al Simmons (1925), Freddie Lindstrom (1928), Bill Terry (1932), Ernie Lombardi (1935), Joe Medwick (1936) and Joe DiMaggio (1936) each posted one.  Mixing with inner circle sluggers like Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Rogers Hornsby, Jimmie Foxx and Hank Greenberg, these “one true outcomers” were, if not the rule, certainly not the exception.  Instead of standing out in technicolor in 2025, Wilson’s current line would have looked right at home, say, with Sisler’s from 1919.