In the baseball world, it’s synonymous with being irredeemably awful. No, this phrase isn’t “Mets ownership” — it’s the “Mendoza Line.” It’s named for Mario Mendoza, a guy who, according to Google, was a “baseball player.”
Over his nine-year career, one shy of being eligible for Hall of Fame consideration, the third baseman and occasional shortstop came to the plate 1,468 times. He finished his career with a .215 batting average, nine homers, 101 runs batted in somehow, and per Baseball-Reference, a WAR of -2.7. He was forgettably bad.
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But he wasn’t forgotten. For some reason — we’ll get there, don’t worry! — Mario Mendoza has entered the lexicon of baseball fans everywhere. Batters who can’t seem to hit more than .200 for the year are said to have hit below the Mendoza Line. For example, for the past two seasons, Yankees first baseman Greg Bird has struggled with it, yo-yo-ing above and below the .200 mark. Bird’s continuing flirtation with that line took the notice of many, including The Athletic’s Lindsey Adler, who tweeted the following:
Greg Bird crossed back onto the right side of the Mendoza Line tonight.
— Lindsey Adler (@lindseyadler) June 30, 2018
And then my curiosity got the better of me. I wondered: How accurate is the Mendoza Line? Historically speaking, I mean.
You probably guessed this, but the reason a batting average of .200 is given a special name isn’t that a .215 career hitter batted .200 — he, most obviously, did not. It’s because .200 is a round number, and our brains like round numbers. A guy who hits 40 homers had a much better season than a guy who hit 39, a .300 hitter is a thing, and 20-game winners are great but 19-game winners are just okay. The same can be true for suckitude: if you’re batting .202, you’re not very good, but if you’re batting .198 —dear lord, why are you even on a roster? Hence, the Mendoza Line.
History, though, demands accuracy. Or, at least, the hyper-sensitive brains of those enamored by baseball trivia do. Where does the term “Mendoza Line” come from? And where is it, really?
A 2010 interview withMendoza and Dave Seminara of the St. Louis Post-Dispatchis likely our best chance at an answer. Here’s the important part:
The “Mendoza Line” was created as a harmless clubhouse joke amongst friends. “My teammates Tom Paciorek and Bruce Bochte used it to make fun of me,” Mendoza said in a recent telephone interview from his home in Sonora, Mexico. “Then they were giving George Brett a hard time because he had a slow start that year, so they told him, ‘Hey, man, you’re going to sink down below the Mendoza Line if you’re not careful.’ And then Brett mentioned it to Chris Berman from ESPN, and eventually, it spread and became a part of the game.”
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There’s a bit to unpack there. The phrase “that year” refers to 1979 or 1980; it’s not entirely clear. Seminara says 1980, and normally I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but something doesn’t sit right. Brett and the Royals didn’t face Mendoza’s Mariners until September 22 of that year, and Brett came into the game batting .394 — that’s like, almost double Mendoza. Unless Paciorek and Bochte decided to call up Brett one day in May for some reason, the story doesn’t make a lot of sense.
But if the year is 1979, it fits perfectly. The Royals came to Seattle in mid-May of that year, and Brett was sporting a .257 batting average, well off his career norms. That was inflated a bit, too; he had just had two really good games, going a total of 4-for-9 with a double, homer, and three RBI. Before that, he was mired in a 21-game slump, where he recorded only 17 hits in 84 at-bats and his season-to-date batting average dipped all the way to .244. I’m going with 1979.
Now that we’ve nailed down the year, let’s narrow down the dates as much as possible. Here are our choices:
May 14: The Royals and Mariners meet for the first game of their four-game series. As explained above, Brett’s slump was still probably fresh in everyone’s mind. Mendoza entered that day batting .207. Brett goes 0-for-4, adding to the narrative. Mendoza goes 0-for-2.
May 15: The teams have a double-header. Mendoza enters the twin bill at .202, but gets a hit in the first game to momentarily scrap .206. He goes 0-for-2 with a sac fly in the nightcap, falling back to .202. Brett goes 2-for-5 and 2-for-3, respectively.
May 16: Brett goes 1-for-4. Mendoza puts up a goose egg in three at-bats. The batting average, for the first time all year, falls below .200, to .196.
It’s possible — possible — that Paciorek and Bochte ribbed Brett only after the fourth game. But that’s really unlikely. Brett just went a perfectly cromulent 5-for-16 during the series and the Royals took three out of four, so that seems like an odd time to crack such a joke. And besides, the players probably weren’t able to talk then — it was a night game and the Royals had another one the following day back in Kansas City.
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Most likely, the conversation happened before a game. And if so, Mendoza’s batting average was no less than .202. And no, Mendoza’s 1978 season — or his career to that point — doesn’t help make the case for the .200 barrier, either. He finished the year prior with a robust (for him) .218 batting average and a career-to-date mark of .204.
There’s really not a lot of historical basis for .200. But it’s much easier to remember, so let’s go with it.
(Top photo of Greg Bird:Mike Stobe/Getty Images)
