I don’t know if this is a cool thing or a cynical thing to mention, but here goes: During Joe DiMaggio’s 56-game hitting streak in 1941, he hit .408, with a .463 on-base percentage and a .717 slugging percentage. During that stretch, Ted Williams hit .412 with a .540 on-base percentage and a .684 slugging percentage. You could make the argument that while DiMaggio was more consistent, Williams was more productive.
Andre Ethier’s Hitting Streak: An Overrated Curiosity?
And that’s the thing about hitting streaks: They’re more than just a curiosity, but just barely. Why should we focus on a hitter who has 50 hits over his last 150 at-bats but not focus on another hitter who had 50 hits over his last 150 at-bats, just because the former had the good sense to space the hits out more evenly? If a hitter goes 1-for-5 with a single in two straight one-run losses, why should he get more credit than the hitter who went 5-for-5 in a one-run victory before having a hitless game?
Hitting streaks are like hitting for the cycle. There’s a neat little symmetry to them. There are clearly defined starting and ending points. They’re easy to understand, and root for. But at the end of the game, hitters would rather have two doubles, a triple, and a home run. If you give a hitter the choice of 56 games with a .408 average and a .463 OBP or 56 games with a .412 average and a .540 OBP in 56 games, they’ll always choose the latter. Fewer outs, more hits. Who cares about the distribution?
So that’s it, then. Hitting streaks aren’t all that impressive because they don’t tell us how a player’s really hitting. They’re something for the casual fan. But that’s it, right?
Nah.
Hitting streaks are just ... fun. They aren’t especially useful in telling us who the best players are -- sorry, Jerome Walton fans -- but who cares? There’s something special about waiting for a player’s lineup spot to come back around. You start calculating how many people would need to reach in order to bring our protagonist up in the ninth inning. You curse the pitchers who issue poorly timed walks, just as you silently praise the hitter for being patient enough. When a hitter with a streak gets a hit in the first inning, it feels like a weight was lifted off from your shoulders, so imagine how the hitter feels. The hitting streak is one of baseball’s greatest byproducts. It’s exciting in an in-game setting, and it’s exciting to talk about during an off day.
You know what’s even cooler than noting that Williams was more productive during DiMaggio’s streak? The little-known fact that DiMaggio hit safely in 56 FREAKING GAMES IN A ROW. Those sorts of things are the little details that make it a cool story. The 56-game hitting streak is one of the most entertaining records in sports because it’s an optical illusion -- it seems to allow for constant challenges, but it’s just about impossible to break.
For the record, I would like Andre Ethier’s streak to be snapped on four line drives that ricochet off the pitching rubber and go right to first base. I hope that every one looks like sure hit off the bat before disappointing everyone who is rooting for the streak. This is because I’m a Giants fan. And also a small, petty man.
But overall, here’s to the hitting streak: When they start creeping up into 30-straight-games territory, the country takes notice. People who don’t know Vladimir from Wilton start talking about baseball. Every season should have a 40-game streak to get us excited, but it’s the rarity of such streaks that gets us excited in the first place.
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