Old-Time Hitters: 5 Who Would Be Great In the Modern Era (And 5 Who Would Have Trouble)

April 14, 1920, 100 years ago today: Babe Ruth makes his debut for the New York Yankees. It doesn't go so well for them: They lose 3-1 to the Philadelphia Athletics, at Shibe Park in Philadelphia.

In the 1st inning, Wally Pipp hit a home run, followed immediately by Ruth's 1st Yankee at-bat, a single to right field. He then struck out in the 4th, beat out a grounder to 2nd base in the 6th, and popped up to 3rd base in the 8th. So he went 2-for-4.

But, for the A's, Cy Perkins hit a game-tying home run in the 5th, and the Yankees' center fielder misplayed a fly ball in the 8th, leading to the winning runs, as Philadelphia's Scott Perry outpitched Yankee ace Bob Shawkey. The Yankees' center fielder that day? Babe Ruth. Yes, "the GOAT" (Greatest Of All Time) was "the goat" (scapegoat).

The 1920 season was a watershed for baseball. It wasn't just that Ruth hit home runs farther and more frequently than anyone had before. Pitching changed as well. Doctoring the baseball -- scuffing it, and putting various substances on it, including human saliva, all of which got put under the category of "spitball" -- was banned. Also, new balls were put into play as soon as possible, to keep them whiter and easier to see, thus less dangerous.

As a result, a new era of big hitting began, the Lively Ball Era. And pitching feats like winning 30 games in a season fell by the wayside.

There have been other major changes since. After "The Year of the Pitcher" in 1968, the pitcher's mound was lowered from 15 inches high at its crest to 10 inches. The strike zone, allegedly, has also been changed. We still saw lots of "high strikes" in the 1970s, but in the 1980s, they became fewer and farther between.

I wonder: Which old-time players would have excelled in today's game? And which would have had trouble? These men are listed in chronological order.

10. Would Be Great: Ty Cobb

I can tell what you're thinking: With his prejudices, his braggodocio, and the media coverage of today, "the Georgia Peach" would never be permitted to last. His big mouth would constantly get him into trouble. Well, you never know. He was pretty savvy by the standards of his time. He might have adjusted to the social media era.

But as for playing: He would have understood that the fences would be a lot closer than the faraway ones he faced from 1905 to 1928. He would have been smart enough to use the ballparks he was in. Oddly, the new home of the Detroit Tigers, Comerica Park, would have been far better suited to his contact-hitting, double-and-triple-seeking ways than was the 1938 to 1999 version of Tiger Stadium, with its overhanging upper deck in right field. He would have liked Comerica.

In the Divisional Play Era, 1969 to the present, Cobb might have been a player like George Brett. Brett's 3,154 hits included 665 doubles, 137 triples and 317 home runs. Granted, those 3,154 hits were over 1,000 fewer than Cobb had, but Cobb might have had more than that. He wouldn't have batted .366, but he would have batted higher than Brett's career .305, and he certainly would have stolen more bases than Brett's 201, if not quite as many as his own 892.

9. Would Have Had Trouble: Honus Wagner

"The Flying Dutchman" was considered the game's greatest player, possibly its greatest ever, until Cobb took that crown while Wagner was still playing. His lifetime batting average was .329, his OPS+ 151, his career RBIs 1,732 (a record at the time), and he collected 3,430 hits (also a record until surpassed by Cobb). It's now been over 100 years after his last game, and he is still regarded as the greatest shortstop who ever lived.

He was a great defensive player, too, appearing in 1,887 games at shortstop, 374 in the outfield, 248 at 1st base, 210 at 3rd base, 57 at 2nd base, and even twice on the mound, pitching 8 1/3rd innings, all scoreless.

But would any scout even look at him today? With that nose, those ears, that physique, and those bowed legs, he probably looked less like a great athlete than any MLB player in recent times, even Yogi Berra.

I can't imagine any team today putting him at shortstop. And on the properly manicured fields of today, instead of the pebble-strewn dirt patches of the early 20th Century, he would have really had to adjust. And can you imagine Honus adjusting to things like the split-fingered fastball and cut fastballs? Cobb, maybe; Wagner, I doubt it.

8. Would Have Been Great: Babe Ruth

As I alluded to in the entry about Cobb, most of today's ballparks don't have 450-foot expanses in center field and the power alleys. Today, the longest distances in any big-league park are Fenway Park in Boston, the only surviving AL park from that era, and Comerica Park in Detroit, each of which has a 420-foot marker.

In the Great Bambino's day, while there were several parks with very short right-field fences, including the then-new original Yankee Stadium, there were also a lot whose fences went way out, including said Yankee Stadium, whose center field was 490 feet when the Babe arrived and 461 feet when he retired. "The House That Ruth Built" wasn't entirely built for Ruth.

This is why baseball historian Bill Jenkinson titled his 2007 book The Year Babe Ruth Hit 104 Home Runs: He took the 8 ballparks the American League teams played in during the Babe's seasons, and compared their dimensions with the parks those same franchises play in today (including adjusting for Fenway's dimensions, which have been shortened), found records of the Babe's homers (which direction, and at what point they seemed to have landed), and decided that the Babe's 59 home runs in 1921, in those same 8 teams' parks of today, would have been 104 home runs.

If you don't believe me, or Jenkinson, think of the current Yankee Stadium, Comerica Park, Cleveland's Jacobs Field, Chicago's U.S. Cellular Field, Baltimore's Camden Yards, the Oakland Coliseum, and Minnesota's Target Field; and compare those to the old Yankee Stadium, the Polo Grounds where the Yanks played until The Stadium opened in 1923 (short poles but faraway alleys and center), Tiger Stadium (then known as Navin Field), Cleveland Municipal Stadium (the fence would later be brought in from 470 to center to 410), Chicago's Comiskey Park, the Orioles then playing as the St. Louis Browns in Sportsman's Park (a short right field but 426 to center), the A's then playing in Philadelphia's Shibe Park which was 447 to center, and the Twins, then the Washington Senators, playing at Griffith Stadium were every fence except the right-field corner was ridiculously far away. Even Fenway brought center field in quite a bit, 505 to 420.

Those are the parks in which the Sultan of Swat hit 708 home runs (with the last 6 coming in the NL in '35). How many would he have hit in today's parks? If we use the same ratio, 104/59 = 1.763, we're talking about 1,253 home runs. Ain't no way Bryce Harper and Mike Trout gonna match that. They're not even going to approach 714, to say nothing of Hank Aaron's 755 and Barry Bonds' 762.

7. Would Have Had Trouble: Hack Wilson

Lewis Robert Wilson certainly took some "hacks": He was one of the scariest hitters of the early Lively Ball Era. In 1929, he helped the Chicago Cubs win the National League Pennant with 39 home runs and a whopping 159 RBIs. He was just getting warmed up: In 1930, he hit 56 homers, an NL record that stood until 1998; and had 191 RBIs, a major league record that still stands.

But he played his last major league game just 4 years later, at age 34. Why? Two reasons. His heavy drinking affected his health, and not just by jacking his weight up. At 5-foot-6 and 190 pounds, someone said, "He was shaped like a beer barrel, and not unfamiliar with its contents."

Maybe his drinking could have been properly treated today. And maybe he would have been a designated hitter, instead of being perhaps the most ill-suited center fielder ever. And maybe he would have been put in the gym, to get himself into shape.

But maybe that wouldn't have worked. Because the other reason he was out of MLB just 4 years after his amazing season was that he couldn't get along with his managers. That's plural: It wasn't just a personality conflict with one guy. Managers, and their superiors in the front office, wouldn't have put up with a Hack Wilson. A Ruth, or a Cobb, because they produced and didn't embarrass the ballclub, sure; a Wilson, no.

6. Would Have Been Great: Josh Gibson

Gibson, perhaps more than any other player in baseball history, is a figure of legend. The fact that he was called "the Black Babe Ruth," when Ruth is such a figure of legend, shows that. So does the fact that Negro League fans preferred to call Ruth "the White Josh Gibson."

A brain tumor killed Gibson at age 35, just 3 months before Jackie Robinson reintegrated the major leagues. He never got to play at the highest level. Negro League record-keeping was woefully inadequate, so stories of him hitting over 800 career home runs, including an alleged 84 of them in a season, are mere speculation, and have to take the quality of the pitchers he faced into account -- and, perhaps, barnstorming tours that meant that he played more than 162 games in a season.

We don't even have film of him, so we can't look at his swing and "break down his mechanics," to see what kind of hitter he really was. We can look at Barry Bonds' forearms, say that Hank Aaron was a great hitter because he had quick wrists, marvel at the biceps on Mickey Mantle, or marvel at how Ted Williams shifted his hips, and say, "That's the big reason he was such a great hitter." With Josh Gibson, we can't be sure.

But we do know some things about him. At his peak, he was 6-foot-1 and 210 pounds. He never fell out of shape until his fatal illness overtook him. He could hit the ball anywhere. Well, almost anywhere: Someone looked in the black newspapers of the 1930s and '40s, and found accounts of every game he ever played at Yankee Stadium. While it was recorded that he hit some long home runs there, the papers didn't say that he hit a fair ball all the way out, something no player did in a major league game. If he had done it, those papers would have been the likeliest to say so at the time.

But Gibson would have feasted on the ballparks built in the 1990s and 2000s. Most likely, about midway through his career, he would have been moved from catcher to another position, as happened to Yogi Berra (left field) and Johnny Bench (1st base, then 3rd base), or been made a designated hitter (if he were in the American League), and that probably would have extended his career. With the major leagues open to him, and racial prejudice severely reduced (though not entirely eliminated), he could have concentrated on baseball, and that would have been bad news for pitchers in my lifetime.

It's worth asking: What kind of player would Jackie Robinson have been today? I think he would have been one of the top running backs. You see, baseball was not his best sport. He was all-conference at UCLA in 1939 and '40. If baseball had already been integrated -- if it didn't need a "Jackie Robinson" -- he might not have been interested.

Likewise, Willie Mays has said that he was a great high school quarterback. Roger Maris also excelled at football. And Bob Gibson's best sport was basketball. Sandy Koufax has said that basketball was his best sport as well. It's possible that neither Jackie, nor Willie, nor Roger, nor Gibby nor Sandy would even have played professional baseball, given today's choices.

5. Would Have Had Trouble: Mel Ott

From 1926 to 1947, this guy hit 511 home runs, the 1st National League player to break the 500 barrier. But he hit 323 of them at home. That's 63 percent. It was mostly because he was a lefthanded hitter pulling the ball down the right field line at the Polo Grounds, where the foul pole was just 257 feet from home plate.

Who's kidding who? He would have hit 300 home runs in the modern era, maybe 400. But 500? Not a chance. He would have been less a Jim Thome, more an Adam Dunn.

Chuck Klein, who benefited from the short right field fence at Baker Bowl in Philadelphia, falls into the same category.

4. Would Have Been Great: Joe DiMaggio

When people asked "the Yankee Clipper" what the highlight of his career was, he usually said, "Just putting on the Yankee uniform." When they asked him if there was anything he didn't like about playing for the Yankees, he cited being a righthanded hitter having to hit into the "Death Valley" of left and center field of the pre-renovation original Yankee Stadium.

Instead of center field being 461 feet away, as it was until 1973, it became 417 in 1976, and 410 in 1988, and it remains that with the opening of the current Stadium in 2009. Left-center was 457 until 1973, became 430 in 1976, and has been 399 since 1988. Straightaway left went from 402 to 387 to 379.

And that's not the only change. Pretty much every American League team that was in existence from 1936 to 1951, except for Detroit, now has a ballpark that is easier to hit in. And he wouldn't have had to serve in World War II. And his heel injury would have been better-treated as well, so he wouldn't have missed half a season at age 33, and wouldn't have had to retire at 37.

With the closer fences, and having maybe 6 more years to play, Joltin' Joe's 351 career home runs would probably have had at least 100 more had he played the bulk of his career in the 2010s instead of the 1940s. It's not hard to imagine him reaching the 500 Home Run Club.

3. Would Have Had Trouble: Ted Williams

So, if Joe D would have had shorter fences, no war to fight in, better attention to his injury, and 6 more years to play in, surely, all that would also have benefited "the Splendid Splinter" as well, right?

He played until he was 42, so he wasn't shortchanged by injuries. Certainly, he wouldn't have missed 3 years due to World War II, and, for all intents and purposes, 2 years due to the Korean War. Having 5 more years, and the shorter fences, would have turned his 521 home runs into, if not quite a threat to have more home runs than Ruth's 714, Aaron's 755 or even Bonds' 762, then maybe around Willie Mays' 660.

But there's something else to consider. Nobody knew more about hitting than Ted Williams. But he didn't know about pitching. His stint as manager of the Washington Senators/Texas Rangers franchise from 1969 to 1972 showed that he didn't help the pitchers under his employ nearly as much as the hitters.

In addition, he would have faced pitches he never saw before, and also specialized relief pitching. Granted, that would have hurt most of these guys, possibly taking the shorter-fence advantage away. But the very scientific approach he had to hitting, and his oft-stated (publicly, mind you) hatred of pitchers would have made them more motivated.

Think about this: Suppose Ted Williams had played in the 1990s and 2000s, but not on the same team as Pedro Martinez. Ted is not known to have been targeted by a headhunting pitcher, ever. Nor is Ted known to have ever threatened a pitcher who brushed him back. But the dueling egos of Ted and Pedro the Punk could have produced a confrontation. Given Ted's size -- he was a skinny kid when he batted .406 in 1941, but his wartime service filled him out and made him a solid mass of muscle -- he could easily have kicked Pedro's scrawny ass.

But Ted's temper might have gotten the better of him, perhaps more than any of these guys except maybe for Cobb. Can you imagine Ted on social media? No, he's one great player who was far better off in his own era than in ours. Maybe he could have adjusted, and still won batting titles. But .406? No.

2. Would Have Been Great: Mickey Mantle

Mantle benefited from being the 1st superstar of the television era. No, Willie Mays wasn't. He appeared in just 2 World Series from 1951 to 1961, while Mantle was in it almost every year. But if any 1950s and/or '60s player would have benefited from being out of that era of toxic masculinity, and into the era of the Betty Ford Center and modern sports medicine, it's "the Mick."

Most likely, his father and the other men in his family wouldn't have been working in the mines until all that ore dust wrecked their lungs and killed them early, so he wouldn't have had that fear of early death hanging over his head.

So he could have just let 'er rip on the field. And, with the doctors being able to take better care of his legs, and the modern mindset of baserunning, Mickey would have been a more dynamic player, and that's before you consider the shorter fences.

Sure, Mays might still have been a better player. The thought of "the Say Hey Kid" on the artificial basepaths of the 1970s and '80s NL is scary. But Mickey, in the modern game? Actually, he might have been even better in the run-happy 1980s than in the homer-happy 2010s: He still would have hit a lot of home runs, but he would have stolen more bases, too, and thus helped his team (whether it was the Yankees or someone else) win more games.

And what about Hank Aaron? He might have had even more than 755 home runs in modern ballparks. Dick Allen, with racial tensions reduced, ballparks more suited to his swing, and greater sensitivity among fans, might have cracked the 500-homer barrier, instead of finishing with 351.

1. Would Have Had Trouble: Tony Conigliaro

I'm going to catch hell if this post reaches the eyes of New Englanders, probably more for this entry than the one I did on Ted Williams. At first glance, it doesn't make sense to suggest that Tony C would have been a lesser player in the modern game. Had he been wearing a modern batting helmet in 1967, the pitch that nearly destroyed his eye would have hit an earflap instead. He would still have been hurt, but he would have come back sooner, with, perhaps, no permanent damage.

But there were things the public didn't know about about Tony in 1967, when he became a martyr to the Red Sox cause. He was more of a carouser than was known, and seemed to care about being a star as much as he did about being a ballplayer. He had a daughter that no one knew about until after his death. Indeed, he was closer to being Boston's Joe Pepitone than its Mantle.

In her book Confessions of a She-Fan, Yankee Fan Jane Heller told of how she and a friend of hers met Conigliaro after hours, and said friend suggested that she was the only fan who ever dated both Conigliaro and the pitcher who beaned him, Jack Hamilton.

In his book Tales from the Impossible Dream Red Sox, shortstop Rico Petrocelli, said, "While he dated actresses and Playboy bunnies, he wasn't a playboy like Bo Belinsky." (Belinsky was a Los Angeles Angels pitcher of the early 1960s who was wild in more ways than one. He pitched a no-hitter in 1962, and the increased attention that brought him was the worst thing that could have happened to him.) But Petro also cites the recording contract Tony had, which could have become a distraction for him as much as it was for his contemporary, Tiger pitcher and Las Vegas lounge organist Denny McLain.

With his good looks, his local-boy-makes-good story, and his hitting power, Tony C would have been irresistible to baseball's marketing boys. Had he come along 30 years later, in 1994, he, rather than Nomar Garciaparra, would have been the Red Sox public-eye counterweight to the Yankees' Derek Jeter. The distractions might have been too much, and reduced his effectiveness, the way it sometimes did for Alex Rodriguez.

In addition, he had already had the 1964 season cut short by injury. Maybe he would have remained injury-free after 1967, but maybe not. As Petrocelli said in his book, "Tony was not only a chick magnet, he was a magnet for stray pitches. Five times he had bones broken by pitches, including the one that broke his shoulder blade five months earlier in spring training." That does not bode well for a long, stat-heavy career.