Why On-Base Percentage and OPS+ Are Better Than Batting Average, According to Baseball History
From Ted Williams to Moneyball, a deep dive into why modern stats like OBP and OPS+ tell the real story of offensive value in MLB.
Since the inception of professional baseball in the 19th century, batting average has reigned as the dominant metric for evaluating offensive performance. From Ty Cobb’s .366 career average to Ted Williams’ .406 season in 1941, batting average became synonymous with hitting prowess. Moreover, when we discuss the tragedy of the 1994 players strike, we usually mention Tony Gwynn missing out on a chance to finish the season with a batting average over .400 as he was on pace to do.
However, a closer inspection of the game’s evolution reveals that batting average, though long considered the gold standard, presents an incomplete picture of a player’s contribution. Modern statistics such as On-Base Percentage (OBP), Slugging Percentage, and OPS+ have emerged not merely as alternatives, but as historically necessary correctives to a flawed and outdated system of evaluation.
This article examines the historical context in which batting average became the dominant offensive metric and traces the rise of OBP and OPS+ as more comprehensive and accurate indicators of offensive value. Ultimately, OBP and OPS+ do not replace baseball’s statistical tradition—they sharpen it, aligning evaluation with the game’s most essential goal: run creation.
Batting Average: Tradition Without Context
Batting average was popularized by journalist Henry Chadwick in the late 1800s, adapted from cricket to measure a batter’s success as hits per at-bat. This early metric offered a sense of clarity in an emerging sport (Thorn, 2011). Over time, batting average became embedded in baseball’s cultural mythology; every kid knew that .300 was elite, .250 was average, and anything below .200 meant trouble. But batting average is limited and often an incomplete look at a player's overall offensive contribution. It disregards walks, sacrifices, hit-by-pitches, and extra-base hits. It doesn’t reflect how often a player reaches base or contributes to run creation.
By the mid-20th century, batting average had become a symbol of aesthetic success. Players like Rod Carew and Tony Gwynn were celebrated for their contact abilities, even when their teams lacked offensive depth. The metric provided clarity but at the expense of completeness.
Ted Williams understood what most in his era did not: the true goal of a hitter was to avoid outs. In his autobiography, Williams wrote that "a hitter’s job is to get on base" (Williams, 1969). He ended his career with a .482 OBP—still the highest in MLB history. While his .406 batting average in 1941 garners the headlines, it was his ability to draw walks and extend at-bats that made him a truly transformative offensive weapon. He had the ability to make the pitcher work and waste pitches while waiting for a pitch he could drive. (Williams famously advises not swinging until you see and time a fastball during your first at bat against a pitcher—unless, of course, there are 2 strikes against you. This tells you something about his plate discipline).
His rival, Joe DiMaggio, hit .325 for his career with a .398 OBP—respectable, but far less efficient than Williams in terms of total offensive value (Baseball-Reference, 2024). Yet in the eyes of the public and much of the baseball establishment, DiMaggio’s higher contact rate and fewer strikeouts made him appear more polished. This preference for visual polish over run efficiency persisted until the sabermetric revolution.
Sabermetrics and the Fall of the Old Guard
By the late 20th century, Bill James and other baseball theorists began deconstructing the flawed assumptions behind traditional stats. OBP, they argued, was far more predictive of team scoring than batting average (James, 1984). The Oakland A’s under Billy Beane applied these ideas in the early 2000s, famously prioritizing players with high OBPs, even if they had lower batting averages or lacked other traditional “tools” (Lewis, 2003).
Scott Hatteberg, for example, was considered washed up by most clubs, but Beane signed him because of his ability to reach base (we’ve all seen the movie). His .374 OBP in 2002 helped power the A’s to a 103-win season (Baseball-Reference, 2024). The lesson was clear: a single is no more valuable than a walk if the goal is to avoid outs. And extra-base power? Even better.
OPS and OPS+: Expanding the Conversation
OPS (On-base Plus Slugging) combines OBP with slugging percentage, providing a broader snapshot of total offensive production. But even OPS, though popular among analysts and fans alike, has its flaws: it treats OBP and SLG as equally valuable, and it doesn’t adjust for league or park context. This is where OPS+ enters the equation.
OPS+ takes a player’s OPS and adjusts it relative to league average, also factoring in ballpark effects. The league average is always 100. So, a player with a 150 OPS+ is 50% better than league average. This allows for historically fair comparisons, Barry Bonds vs. Babe Ruth, Mike Trout vs. Mickey Mantle, across eras, parks, and conditions (FanGraphs, 2023).
Consider Bonds: his .298 career batting average masks the fact that his .444 OBP and 182 OPS+ place him among the most efficient offensive players in the sport’s history (Baseball-Reference, 2024). In 2004, Bonds reached base in over 60% of his plate appearances—a number so absurd it forces us to rethink what dominance looks like.
When Batting Average Misleads
Conversely, players with high batting averages but low OBPs often produced less than fans realized. Ichiro Suzuki hit .311 in his career, but his .355 OBP and 107 OPS+ suggest that his value was context-dependent (Baseball-Reference, 2024). He was a contact machine, yes, but one who walked infrequently and didn’t slug for power. This isn't meant to knock Ichiro, he was obviously a valuable player, but it is to stress the importance of what makes a quality hitter. In certain eras or lineups, that profile is less effective than one might assume.
Meanwhile, Adam Dunn, a career .237 hitter, routinely posted OBPs above .360 and finished with a career OPS over .850. Dunn’s approach, while ugly to traditionalists, generated runs (FanGraphs, 2023). His low average obscured his true impact.
The Broader Implications
The shift from batting average to OBP and OPS+ is emblematic of a larger movement in sports and analytics: the pursuit of context, not just surface stats. It reflects a desire to understand why teams win—not just how they look doing it. In this way, OBP and OPS+ are not enemies of tradition, but refinements of it. They reassert the core baseball truth: players who avoid outs and produce extra bases are more valuable than those who simply hit the ball often.
To be clear, batting average still has narrative value. There is poetry in a .400 season or a 20-game hit streak. But for those seeking to understand offensive efficiency, OBP and OPS+ are indispensable.
Conclusion
In the end, the conversation about how to evaluate hitters is not about new vs. old, it is about accurate vs. incomplete. Batting average was never a lie, but it was always a half-truth. Hitters with a high batting average are great at generating contact but not necessarily great at bats or runs. OBP and OPS+ reveal the full picture. They reward discipline, power, and context. They honor not just what a player does, but how it helps their team win.
Baseball is a game of runs, and runs are born from base runners and extra bases. The statistics that best capture those realities are the ones we must learn to trust, not because they are new, but because they are right.