The Tragic Tale of "Big Bill" Brown

During the late-19th century, the average life expectancy was around 43 years, with approximately 15% of the populace living to see their 60th birthday. It's no wonder then, why so many big leaguers of this era met an early demise. One of these tragic figures is William "Big Bill" Brown, a weak-hitting catcher who transformed into a run-producing first baseman—and defensive whiz—shortly before his untimely death.

A San Francisco native, Brown began his pro career with the California League's Nationals franchise in 1882. The 16-year-old struggled and soon returned to playing semi-pro ball. In 1887, Brown joined the New York Giants; he performed well behind the plate but hit a meager .218. The 6-foot-2-inch, 195-pounder continued to be a consistently good receiver over the next few years, and by 1890 had dramatically improved his hitting, finishing the year with a career-high four home runs and a .278 batting average. (A .261 career hitter, he batted .442 in two "World Series" appearances in 1887-88.) Following a knee injury, Brown moved to first base where he performed like an old pro with the 1891 Phillies: He slugged 20 doubles while pacing big-league first sackers with a .989 fielding percentage.

"California Brown," as he was sometimes called in the press, joined the Louisville Colonels (NL) in 1893, putting together his finest all-around season. Helped by the lengthened pitching distance, he hit .292 with 26 doubles, seven triples, and 90 runs batted in; in the field, he once again paced major league first basemen in fielding percentage (.988). That November, The San Francisco Morning Call wrote that Brown's "skyrocket catches and rapid fielding" had garnered more than a few standing ovations over the past season. The same article noted that "Big Bill" should lose "thirty or forty pounds of superfluous flesh" before it becomes "difficult to tie his own shoes." Another local scribe opined: "When a man of Bill's size tries to knock a ball over the center-field fence . . . the wear and tear on his well-rounded physique must be awful."

Following his breakthrough 1893 campaign, Brown, along with several other major leaguers, was invited to play in a winter exhibition series. Feeling under the weather, he politely refused, citing a desire to get some much-needed rest. "I do not feel like jeopardizing my chances of being in good form in the spring," said Brown. The San Francisco Morning Call ominously wrote that perhaps Bill was afraid of injuring himself or "contracting consumption [tuberculousis] from the large mouth fulls of fog on a damp day."

As Louisville's 1894 season got underway, it was obvious that something was seriously wrong with their star first baseman. Lethargic and short of breath, Brown sometimes found it a chore to jog out to his position. He waved at easy grounders that he'd have once skillfully snagged, and his Herculean strength had vanished—he weakly offered at one fat pitch after the other. After posting a paltry .193 average through 16 games, "Big Bill" was given his release and finished out the year with the Eastern League's Wilkes-Barre Coal Barons. In 1895, Brown was diagnosed with an unidentified lung ailment (possibly tuberculosis) and was directed to take some time off to recuperate in a dryer climate, which was thought to be beneficial for TB patients.

After several months of rest beneath the Arizona sun, Brown felt well enough to attempt a comeback with the Seattle Rainmakers of the New Pacific League. He looked to be in good form, hitting .288 with a home run while catching all 15 games in which he appeared. Sadly, the 30-year-old would never play baseball again. In search of relief from his increasingly severe breathing difficulties, Brown moved to Hawaii in 1897. That July, a reporter with Honolulu's Pacific Commerical Advertiser tracked down the former "crack ball player" at his residence in Waikiki. In the ensuing interview, Brown shared his thoughts about the quality of baseball played in Hawaii:

"The baseball you are having down here surprises me," declared Brown, whose shockingly emaciated appearance (165 pounds) belied his child-like excitement. "The first game I attended here was the one on Saturday . . . and I was surprised at the boys. They handle the ball as well as the average league team, though the games played in the States are, perhaps, a little more scientific and are played in a shorter time. In the league, we had to run in and run out, but here I notice that when a side is out, they walk in. It's a good thing funerals are not drawn over the ground or the players would be run over with the hearse. I don't think the spectators like these long-drawn games. . . . [But] the boys play well together. I enjoyed the game . . . and I've got a lot of enthusiasm bottled up for the game on Saturday."

In the weeks and months following the interview, Brown's condition steadily worsened. By mid-October, Bill was confined to his bed; however, no matter how sick, he insisted upon having the sports page delivered to his room each morning. Sensing the end was near, Brown returned home to California that November. He passed away on December 20, 1897. The San Francisco Chronicle, among others, ran the following obituary:

"William Brown, known to all lovers of baseball throughout the United States as 'Big Bill' Brown, is dead. About two years ago, Brown, once a perfect specimen of physical manhood, became afflicted with lung trouble. He sought relief in the Hawaiian Islands, Southern California and Arizona, but in vain, and yesterday the end came at his home in this city. Deceased was 32 years of age."

✍️ Bobby King II

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Sources: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov + https://www.newspapers.com + https://www.baseball-reference.com + https://en.wikipedia.org

Hack Wilson: 191 RBI

In 1930 Hack Wilson destroyed the major league RBI record by driving in 191 runs, which was previously held by Babe Ruth (168). Although Wilson hit 56 home runs, they only accounted for 101 (53%) of his runs batted in, meaning he drove in 90 more by other means.

Hack had a fantastic year. On top of the RBI, he also was the first player not named Ruth to hit over 50 home runs in a single season. Wilson was robbed out of an MVP because it was not awarded by the league that season. At the time (1922-1929), it was called the League Award. In 1930 it was discontinued and no award was presented. It surfaced again the following season and remains today as the Most Valuable Player Award. In 1930 Wilson had a season only accomplished by two other players. Only Wilson, Jimmie Foxx (1932), and Ruth (twice: 1921, 1927) batted at least .350, hit at least 50 home runs and drove in 150 or more runs in the same season.

All that said and done, it still took a “perfect storm” to accomplish the feat. As do all terrific run producers, Wilson hit great with runners on base (.366) and Hack enjoyed good health only missing one game, but he also had a dynamo batting in front of him.

Woody English hit second in the order for the Cubs. He had a .430 on-base percentage and reached base over 300 times in 1930. He also hit 36 doubles and 17 triples. Wilson drove him home 42 times that season.

Kiki Cuyler batted third and had a .428 on-base percentage. He also reached base over 300 times. Cuyler hit 50 doubles and 17 triples while leading the NL in stolen bases (37). Wilson drove him home 46 times. Both Cuyler and English used the sacrifice bunt to move runners into scoring position. Neither Cuyler nor English missed a game that season.

L-R: Wilson, Kiki Cuyler & Woody English

What all the above says is that Wilson came to bat with runners on base and, many times, in scoring position. Hack had 702 plate appearances. In his times at the plate, he had 524 runners on base. When not hitting safely, he still put the ball in play 293 times. He struck out 84 times or about as much as today’s leadoff hitters.

What all this proves is that the new style of baseball, striking out frequently and not advancing runners, will never allow another player to approach this RBI record.

Quickly I will compare the last two 50 home run hitters and their numbers:
                                                                                    Pete Alonzo hit 53 home runs and drove home 120 in 2019. His home runs accounted for 70% of his RBI (84). He had no one in particular in front of him with a great on-base percentage but still came to the plate with 407 runners aboard. Pete was juggled around in the batting order, hitting second, third and cleanup. The player who batted consistently before him, Michael Conforto, struck out 149 times and never had a sacrifice hit. Alonzo struck out 183 times.

Aaron Judge hit 52 home runs in 2017 and drove in 114. His home runs accounted for 75% of his RBI (85). He also did not have the runners on base or in scoring position enjoyed by Wilson but still managed to come to the plate with 427 runners on base. Judge struck out 208 times. He batted mostly second in the order and sometimes third. The player always in front of Judge, Brett Gardner, struck out 122 times and had five sacrifice hits. When Judge batted third, Chase Headley usually batted in the second spot. Headley struck out 132 times and sacrificed only once.

All this proves that in order to have a historic RBI season you need many base runners, players who will move runners into scoring position, good health (both yourself and the players in front of you), and a great batting average with runners on base. Add to this formula the ability to put the ball in play consistently (limiting strikeouts). Today’s game has evolved to moving away from all the skills needed to do so.

Who had the most impressive RBI season, Wilson (191), Gehrig (185), actually neither? But that is for another column soon.

✍️ Written by Skip Carpentier 

Bill "Three Bagger" Kuehne

Bill "Three Bagger" Kuehne holds the record, by a wide margin, for the lowest batting average (.232) and on-base percentage (.257) by a player with 100 or more career triples. Owner of many records, firsts, and some of the most bizarre stat lines of all-time, "Little Willie" Kuehne's statistical propensity for both grandeur and futility makes him something of a 19th-century Dave Kingman (minus the strikeouts). A .223 hitter over his first four seasons (1883-86), Kuehne—though not markedly fast afoot—managed to average 17 triples per year. (He's the only man to slug more triples than doubles in four straight seasons.) Kuehne amassed 993 hits over a 10-year career, 115 of which were triples; this means that one of every 8.6 hits (12%) went for three bases. Sam Crawford, the all-time triples leader, hit a three-bagger about 10% of the time.

Cited by SABR's David Nemec as holding the record for most triples by a player with fewer than 4,500 plate appearances, the 5-foot-8-inch, 185-pound third sacker—obviously his favorite base—once hit 19 three baggers without notching a single homer, a feat later replicated by Willie Keeler. Of those active between the years of 1871 and 1892, only ten batsmen, seven of which are Hall of Famers, hit more triples than Kuehne. Though praised by the local press for his ability to "knock the ball out of sight," Kuehne hit only 25 home runs as a big leaguer; even with all of those triples, his career slugging percentage (.337) is laughable. In the Western League, however, "Billy the Bat" hit 22 big flies in 1895; four of those came on May 12, making him the seventh professional to compile a four-homer game.

The third German-born player to appear in the majors, Kuehne spent most of his career in Pittsburgh (AA and NL), where he gained a reputation as a gifted third baseman. In April 1890, The Pittsburgh Dispatch gushed: "LIttle Willie [Kuehne], he of the light blue stockings from the land of the Kaiser and lager beer, was surrounded with a halo of glory. . . . Nothing that went Willie's way could escape his clutch, and he picked up hot grounders with the alacrity of a tramp when picking up a beef sandwich that is not his own." Kuehne, who once handled a record 13 errorless chances during a nine-inning contest, is credited with a career 3.28 range factor-per-game as a third sacker, the 33rd highest total in MLB history—and better than Pie Traynor, Brooks Robinson or Mike Schmidt. ~ BK2

Honus Wagner: 'Father Time has caught up with me'

As the 1952 season approached, it had been more than a half-century since the soon-to-be 78-year-old Honus Wagner first began his big league career with the Louisville Colonels as a young, multipositional star. (He also pitched, striking out six over eight shutout innings.) By the time of his 1917 retirement, Wagner—described by John McGraw as "the greatest player in baseball history"—held a slew of modern (post-1892) National League records: 3,420 hits, 643 doubles, 252 triples, 1,732 RBI, 1,739 runs scored, 723 stolen bases, and eight batting titles among them. Often referred to as "Mr. Shortstop" in the press, the burly, bow-legged—yet amazingly agile—"freak of nature" still ranks fourth at the position in career putouts and eleventh in range factor-per-game. As one unidentified scribe put it: "[Wagner] walks like a crab, plays like an octopus and hits like the devil."

Deeply in debt and eager to return to the game he loved, Wagner was hired on as a Pirates coach in 1933. The affable "Dutchman" soon became a beloved fixture during spring training, doling out baseball wisdom and grandfatherly advice to rookies and veterans alike. By the late-1940s, Wagner's health had begun to fail; he was no longer able to attend spring workouts—though he stubbornly remained on as a coach during the regular season. "I won't quit baseball until it quits me," declared Honus following a health scare in 1950. Hospitalized again in December 1951, he remained optimistic about returning, but by mid-February, Wagner—at the insistence of his doctor—announced his retirement. Pirates' GM Branch Rickey, who procured a pension for Wagner, declared his uniform (No.33) retired forever.

On February 15, 1952, a group of newspapermen and photographers descended upon Wagner's modest home in Carnegie, Pennsylvania. "Shucks, how about that," chuckled Honus, grinning ear-to-ear as he answered the door. "Guess old Father Time has caught up with me. Never knew anybody to retire so young." Wagner then collapsed into an easy-chair, a large wad of chewing tobacco visible in his jaw, as he prepared to be interviewed. Following a few questions about his health, the talk turned to his playing days.

Though he stole the show during Pittsburgh's victory over the Tigers in the 1909 World Series, Hans said that "the biggest thrill of my life" came in 1900, when he hit a double in his final at-bat to beat out Elmer Flick "by a mere percentage point" to win his first National League batting crown. (The records show that Wagner was mistaken: he hit .381, a full 14 points better than Flick's .367 mark, though it had remained a close race going into the final days of the season.)

As the reporters on hand looked over Wagner's impressive collection of trophies and mementos that nearly enveloped the small but well-kept parlor, Honus pointed out his favorite of the bunch—a large silver loving cup awarded to him in 1908 for pacing the majors with a .354 batting average. The trophy was presented by Vaudville star Honeyboy Evans. "See that cup," exclaimed Wagner. "Honeyboy bought the cup with the idea of giving it to his friend, Ty Cobb, but I beat Cobb out that year and got it!"

"Who was the toughest pitcher you ever faced?" asked an Associated Press reporter. Honus thought for a bit, before listing a who's who of legendary hurlers: Christy Mathewson, Cy Young, Pete Alexander, Rube Waddell. "Those pitchers were great," explained Wagner, "but I could always hit them. The guy who had me going was a bullpen pitcher for the Chicago Cubs—Jack Taylor. . . . [H]e was always the toughest for me to hit. It looked like I ought to knock his pitches seven miles, but for five years, I couldn't do anything with him. Finally, I got so disgusted I turned around and batted left-handed against him. It worked: I got a three-bagger, and my luck against Taylor changed."

Honus Wagner signs autographs, circa 1948. 

The same AP scribe then asked Wagner about Branch Rickey, who had awarded him a lifetime pass to games at Forbes Field in appreciation for his 37 years of service to the club. "Do you know what Mr. Rickey told me?" asked Honus. "He said I could sit anywhere in the ballpark. Upstairs, downstairs, center-field, right-field, any place. How about that?" Around this time, Wagner's devoted wife, Bessie, chimed in: "Guess he'll never be the same now. Baseball is all he ever knew." Sensing a bit of sadness in his wife's statement, Honus explained: "It still is great to be alive. . . . I still love baseball. It looks like the game gets bigger and better every year."

As the interview drew to a close, Wagner—eager to put his newly acquired season tickets to use—flashed a buoyant smile and exclaimed: "See you on opening day!"

– BK2

   ◾Sources: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov + https://www.newspapers.com

Al Simmons: Baseball's Graying Warrior

"[Al Simmons] had that swagger of confidence, of defiance. . . . I’ve always classed him next to Ty Cobb as the greatest player I ever saw." — Cy Perkins, Philadelphia Athletics

                                                                                                                                                    Aloysius Simmons – born Alois Szymanski – posted eye-popping statistics during his tenure in Philadelphia. Between 1925 and 1932, he hit .366 while averaging 25 home runs and 132 RBI per season. Said the venerable Connie Mack of his star outfielder: “I wish I had nine players named Al Simmons.” Beginning in 1933, "Bucketfoot Al" bounced around the American League – Chicago, Detroit, Washington – before joining the senior circuit's Boston Bees (Braves) in 1939. Though no longer a superstar, the 37-year-old was still a formidable batsman, having hit .302 with 21 homers and 95 RBI as a member of the 1938 Senators.

In March 1939, Simmons reported to Boston's spring training camp in Bradenton, Florida. "There is a lot of speculation, Al, on how you will hit," relayed one of the many sportswriters on hand. "The Boston park is fairly spacious, and they say the wind is blowing right in the hitter's faces." Unconcerned by the scribe's theoretical postulation, Simmons retorted: "Maybe so, but it can't be any harder to hit in than Washington's park. Shucks, that's the worst park I ever saw for a long hitter." After answering a few more questions, Simmons excused himself to prepare for batting practice.

With a youthful gleam in his eye, baseball's graying warrior stepped up to the plate as his fellow Bees buzzed with anticipation. "Tell him to throw me a curve," Simmons instructed the catcher. The pitcher obliged, and the venerable slugger didn't disappoint: he hit a majestic flyball that cleared the left-field fence with ease. "Now a fastball," yelled Simmons, who promptly hit another impressive blast. "I'll be a monkey's uncle," bellowed Casey Stengel, who was entering his second season as Boston's skipper. "How can the American League let a hitter like that fellow get away?" After smacking another pair of homers, Simmons stepped out of the box to have a drink of water.

During the lull following his initial power display, Simmons was asked about Boston's chances in 1939. "This club can win the National League pennant," replied an optimistic Simmons. Annoyed by the comment, a Cincinnati-based reporter vociferously boasted that the Reds would blow Boston – and all other teams – out of the water in the battle for National League supremacy. "That's what you think!" Simmons barked. "The Reds look good, all right, but they're a young club. Those kids may blow up. They are just like the Athletics were back in 1925. Everybody said we were going to win the American League pennant, and we got tight and were lucky to finish in the league. We're going to have something to say, we Bees."

Unfortunately, the 1939 season turned out to be a bust, as Boston finished the year 25 games under .500. Ironically, Simmons – who hit .282 with 29 extra-base hits during his 93 game stint with the Bees – was acquired by Cincinnati that August. Just as the native newshound had predicted in the spring, the Reds would go on to capture the National League pennant, though Simmons had little to do with their success. Relegated to a pinch-hitting role, the aging slugger posted an anemic .143 average (3-for-21) down the stretch. Simmons, who had previously hit .333 with six home runs in three World Series appearances with Philadelphia, went 1-for-4 during the 1939 Fall Classic – a laughable four-game affair versus the Yankees. — BK2 

                                                                                                                                                     "It was something to see. When Al Simmons would grab hold of a ball bat and dig in, he’d squeeze the handle of that doggone thing and throw the barrel of that bat toward the pitcher in his warm-up swings . . . he would look so bloomin’ mad, even in batting practice." — Tommy Henrich

◾Sources: https://www.baseball-reference.com + https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov + https://www.newspapers.com + https://www.ootpdevelopments.com + https://sabr.org

Ty Cobb holds court aboard 'Cooperstown Express'

On the night of June 12, 1939, a trainload of baseball legends traversed the vast virescent hills of upstate New York following a joint appearance at the newly opened National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown. "Nearly all the living Hall of Fame men were on the train—Ruth and Grover Cleveland Alexander and George Sisler," noted Francis Stann, a sportswriter with The Washington Star. "But Cobb, sitting at a table with Walter Johnson, held the center of the stage." As each man enthusiastically recalled their run-ins with "The Georgia Peach," Cobb sat back with an incredulous look on his face before chiming in.

"There are a lot of old stories," explained Cobb, "but honestly, some of those about me are exaggerated to beat the band. I hear about a time when I walked to first base, stole second while the pitcher held the ball, went to third when he threw it into center field and scored when I drop-kicked the outfielder's throw to the plate into a dugout. But doggone if I remember it."

As the chatter subsided, a reporter asked Ty if he would still play the same style of baseball under "modern" conditions. "What's the use?" Cobb groused. "What good is one run? Now there are four or five fellows in every lineup who can hit the ball over the fence and score half a dozen runs. . . . No sir! I'd just go along and take a good cut and try to knock the ball as far as I could." About this time, Walter Johnson began to laugh.

"Yes, he would—not," joked Johnson. "If he came up now, he'd play the same way. It's the only way he ever knew how to play . . . hard, rough, and better than anybody else." A huge grin enveloped Johnson's face as he collected his thoughts. "By gosh," he exclaimed, "if Cobb was a-running bases today a lot of our modern pitchers would have to learn how to hold a man on base in a hurry. He'd steal the gold out of their teeth in one trip around the circuit." — BK2 
                                                                                                                                   ◾Source: Stann, Francis. "Win, Lose or Draw." Washington Evening Star. 14 June. 1939: C1.

Perry Werden: The Story of Baseball's Forgotten Home Run King

"The Bambino again shoved the ball into the right-field bleachers," reported The Washington Times on September 5, 1920, "bringing his total for the year up to forty-six for a new world's record. Perry Werden's total of forty-five had been passed." You may be asking yourself, "Who is Perry Werden?" Described by The Kansas City Times as "the rooters' friend, the delight of the bleachers, [and] the idol of small boys," the 6-foot-2 inch, 220-pound behemoth was among the most popular and feared sluggers of the nineteenth-century.

In 1894, the 32-year-old—who two seasons earlier hit 29 triples (the fourth-best total in MLB history) as a member of the St. Louis Browns—joined the Western League's Minneapolis Millers and promptly put on a show never before seen in pro baseball. That year, the big righty hit .417 with a record 43 home runs, throwing in 33 stolen bases for good measure. Amazingly, Werden was even better in 1895. Playing his home games in Athletic Park, noted for its short foul lines, "Moose" hit .428 with 45 long balls, including a two-game stretch that saw him go 9-for-9 with six big flies.

In July 1895, Werden—who claimed he once "hit the ball so hard that it broke in two"—became the eighth pro baseballer to slug four homers in a single game. In its coverage of the contest, The Saint Paul Daily Globe wrote that Werden sent "severe shocks to the soughing curves of the Detroit twirlers. . . . Four times did the young Scandinavian deliver to the sailing leather an impetus which carried it . . . out of the grounds." Though his 1894-95 stats are inflated due to the bandbox in which he played, make no mistake about it: Big Perry Werden could hit the ball a "country mile." Hardly an obscure record, following Ruth's 29 home run performance in 1919 (Babe surpassed Ned Williamson who hit 27 HRs in 1884), article after article pointed out that the all-time professional mark still belonged to Werden.

When his record finally fell in 1920, Werden expressed admiration for the new home run king. "There is no doubt that Babe has it on all of them—modern and ancient," said Werden. "There wasn't much talk about my 45 home runs [at the time]. The truth is, some fans panned me because I swung too hard." Home runs aside, Werden had much in common with Ruth. Both men stood 6-foot-2 and weighed well over 200 pounds; like the Babe, "Peach Pie Perry" was famous for his voracious appetite. Both began their careers as top-notch hurlers and possessed speed and athleticism that belied their pudgy physiques. Each had larger than life personalities and were noted for their fun-loving, jovial nature. And, according to an Associated Press article from 1921, "Werden stood at the plate with his feet close together [and] his grip was like Babe's clear down to the handle."

A Missouri native, Werden began his big league career as a pitcher with the Union Association's St. Louis Maroons in 1884. That year, the multi-talented phenom posted a 12-1 record with a 1.97 ERA over 141 innings pitched. Following an arm injury, Werden was sent packing to the minors. Undeterred, the youngster reinvented himself, becoming a capable first baseman and feared batsman in short order. In 1887, he set the Western League ablaze, finishing the season with 34 doubles, 12 home runs, and a .384 batting average.

Following an 1889 campaign that saw him hit .394, Werden was given another shot in the majors, this time with the American Association's Toledo Maumees. The 28-year-old went on to slash .295/.404/.456 with 59 steals, 72 RBI, and a league-best 20 triples in 1890. Werden followed that by hitting .290 with 18 triples and 104 RBI with the 1891 Orioles; in the field, he paced the circuit's first sackers with 1,422 putouts while finishing second in fielding percentage. Werden joined the National League St. Louis Browns the following year; he posted a paltry .258 average but nevertheless drove in 84 runs. The 1893 season would be among Werden's finest in the majors: he hit .276 with an astounding 29 triples, two shy of the existing record set by Dave Orr in 1886. (Owen "Chief" Wilson slugged an all-time record 36 three-baggers in 1912.)

Following his epic three-year run (1894-96) in the Western League, Werden played one last big-league season with the 1897 Louisville Colonels, finishing the year with 14 triples, 83 RBI, and a career-high .301 batting average. All told, Werden hit .282 with 109 doubles, 87 triples, 26 home runs, and 151 stolen bases over parts of seven major league seasons. Werden would go on to play nine more years in the minors, though he never approached his earlier production, finally hanging up his spikes at age 46. Combined with his major league stats, "Moose" finished his 23-year pro career with 2,294 hits—including 384 doubles, 143 triples, and 155 home runs—357 stolen bases, and 1,120 runs scored.

Shortly before Werden's death in 1934, The North American Newspaper Alliance interviewed the former home run king. When asked to name the most powerful batsmen of all-time, the 70-year-old opined: "Big Ed Delahanty would have equaled or bettered the home run record of Babe Ruth if the lively ball had been in use. . . . I have watched them all—Delahanty, Pop Anson, Dan Brouthers, King Kelly, Larry Lajoie, Hans Wagner, Ty Cobb, Tris Speaker, Sam Crawford, Bill Lange, and George Van Haltren of the past, and Ruth, Rogers Hornsby, Joe Jackson, Jimmy Foxx, Al Simmons and Chuck Klein of the present—but of all these mighty sluggers I rank Delahanty and Ruth as the greatest." – BK2

👑Sources: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/ + https://www.baseball-reference.com/ + https://baseballhistorydaily.com/ + sabr.org