In the very short time I’ve been involved in sports media, I’ve gained a reputation for taking radical stances on a number of topics. It’s probably because I’m loud and because I’m not a big fan of backing down—and honestly, it’s probably warranted in some cases.
I do like to think I eventually measure my responses, though, because I love to crunch numbers and analyze data. In the end, no opinion is truly valid unless it can be justified in some way.
After saying all that, let me now blow you away with a statement that you will surely dismiss immediately as a complete load of garbage.
Freshman Seth Beer is on his way to the greatest individual season in the history of Clemson baseball.
I can hear the nonbelievers now. Qualk, it’s only been 20 games. Let’s wait until he plays better competition. You’re putting too much pressure on the kid. Eventually, pitchers will catch up to him. His pace is unsustainable.
Worst of all, this narrow-minded appraisal of Beer’s play is a microcosm of the world’s view of millennials like me. We live predominantly in the moment. We are easily distracted by anything remotely interesting. We lack historical perspective.
This goes way beyond any of those criticisms. Pegging Beer as potentially the greatest Clemson baseball player ever merely one-third of the way through his first season was a process that required significant consideration.
We’ve already gone past the stage where Seth Beer was an impressive freshman. We’ve already gone past the part where he’s the best freshman in the program’s history. Now, we’re at the point where his accomplishments deserve to be placed in rarified air.
With 20 games played in his freshman campaign—when he should have been busy getting intentionally walked by helpless high schoolers—Beer’s stat line reads like something from a video game where the player needs to bump up the difficulty a few notches.
Before you see these numbers, I’d encourage you to find a pair of sunglasses to protect against the glare of greatness:
.448/.548/.940, 9 HR, 26 RBI, 21 R, 14 BB, 7 K
Let’s begin with his nine home runs in twenty games. Only six freshmen in Clemson history have hit double digits in that category. Beer’s pace has left them all in the dust.
He’s so far ahead in the ratio stats that it’s not even worth bringing up another player. Within the next month, he should surpass Matt LeCroy’s team record of 15 homers by a freshman. His 2:1 BB:K ratio also seems like something a wily veteran might compile, not a player who has barely darkened the door of a college classroom yet.
See why categorizing Beer as simply a great freshman misses the point?
Baseball is a game of regression, so many might believe Beer’s numbers are destined to go down. I’m not so sure about that, though. Beer only strikes out once every 14 plate appearances, once every 9.6 at bats. His batting average on balls in play is currently .500, which is astronomical.
It’s true that both of those numbers will likely come down some, but being strong in both categories helps soften the blow. Typically, hot streaks in baseball can be traced back to an abnormally low K rate or an abnormally high BABIP, and the inverse is also true during cold spells. Generally speaking, if a player does both really well, that player is more immune to slumps than most.
Let’s say Beer continues at his current pace, just for fun. We’ll assume a season’s length of 60 games, for easy math and since that will essentially run through the regular season and ACC Tournament. If Beer’s slash line doesn’t change at all—a hefty assumption, but one we’ll gladly make—here’s what his numbers would look like at that point:
.448/.548/.940, 27 HR, 78 RBI, 63 R, 42 BB, 21 K
Just for a historical reference, that would put Beer at the top of Clemson’s all-time leaderboard in home runs, tied with Khalil Greene. He would blow away Greene’s school record for slugging percentage. He would rank fourth in batting average (second in the modern era), third in extra base hits, and fourth in total bases.
Furthermore, the first-semester freshman is leading the country right now in OPS, my favorite way to measure a hitter’s statistical value. You could make the case he’s the best hitter in the country, and I’m not sure many people would argue with that.
There is really only one season in Clemson baseball history that can compare to Beer’s: Khalil Greene’s 2002 season in which he won the Golden Spikes Award.
Greene hit .470 that season with 27 homers and 91 RBI. He accumulated 134 hits, including 33 doubles, scored 93 runs, and stole 17 bases. That season remains the gold standard, especially since he led the Tigers to the College World Series.
Beer’s numbers will likely be inferior to Greene’s overall, but there are two factors that could—and I emphasize “could” here—make Beer’s season more impressive. One is the change in equipment designed to make it more difficult to be productive on offense. Greene played with superior equipment when he had that landmark 2002 campaign.
The other is age. Greene was a senior when he won the Golden Spikes Award. Beer is as young as a freshman can possibly be.
The time to pump the brakes is over. The time for patience has passed. The time for skepticism has ended.
There have been twenty combinations of manager, pitching coach, and pitcher that have failed to solve the Seth Beer conundrum. I haven’t seen any perceptible holes in his swing or approach. The scouting report might as well read “Good Luck”.
Beer may not eclipse Greene’s greatness this season, but it’s not a certainty that he won’t at this point. And even if that’s true, it might still be more impressive.
Coaches have talked about how rare his talent is. His teammates have raved about his unnatural abilities. I’ve called him the best college hitter I’ve ever seen.
Don’t put a ceiling on this guy. Once you do, I’m convinced he’ll smash through it just like an ill-placed fastball.
God Bless!
WQ