Where have all the power-hitting first basemen gone?

Let’s take a look at two first basemen with nearly identical playing time and production.

Player 1 is 2024 Vladimir Guerrero Jr. The Toronto Blue Jays star’s .940 OPS was 42 points higher than any other first baseman. Only Bryce Harper and Freddie Freeman were even in the same ballpark. Guerrero finished sixth in MVP voting, one of only three first basemen to appear on a ballot.

Player 2 is 1999 Sean Casey. His .938 OPS ranked eighth among first basemen, more than 100 points behind Mark McGwire and Jeff Bagwell. Five first basemen finished higher in MVP races than Casey. Numbers that now stand alone made Casey just one of the guys, because the first basemen of 25 years ago were expected to do one thing.

“You had to bang,” Casey said. “You had to separate yourself. Everybody’s banging — that was the standard. If you don’t bang, you don’t play.”

That’s not the standard today.

In 2024, first basemen had their lowest collective slugging percentage since 1984 (.407). It wasn’t a one-year fluke. By wRC+ (Weighted Runs Created Plus), which adjusts for era and ballpark, their collective 104 mark in 2024 was the lowest at that position since 1962, and seven of the 15 worst offensive seasons at first base, as measured by wRC+, have happened in the past nine years.

From the early 1990s through the early 2010s, first basemen were the superstars of an offensive game. It seemed every team, even those without a Hall of Fame first baseman, could find a hulking slugger to play first and swat 25 home runs.

But the all-bat first baseman has disappeared — from everyday action, at least — and the current class doesn’t have nearly the same depth, offensive impact or subjective star power. Such limited supply has made Pete Alonso and Christian Walker, two prototypical power-hitting first basemen, all the more coveted in free agency.

“It does seem like we’re at a moment in time where there’s not as deep a roster (of first basemen),” Pittsburgh Pirates general manager Ben Cherington said at last week’s Winter Meetings in Dallas. “I don’t know why.”

The offensive landscape is remarkably different than it was 25 years ago — Casey had a 132 wRC+ in 1999; Guerrero in 2024 had a 165 wRC+ — but the direct comparison is less important than what it says about the position as a whole. In 1999, there were 15 first basemen with wRC+ above 120. In 2024, there were five.

So where have all the first-base bangers gone?

Scrapping the prototype

There was a time when you could pick the first baseman out of a lineup. Big. Tall. Batted cleanup.

First base was the position where teams found power.

If the New York Mets fail to re-sign Alonso this winter, they will surely miss his power. (Alonso’s full-season homer totals: 53, 37, 40, 46, 34.) But they also have a shortstop, Francisco Lindor, coming off his fifth 30-homer season.

Now that’s a profile that didn’t used to exist.

“Those offensive positional profiles that maybe 10, 15, 20 years ago we used to attribute to certain positions on the diamond, aren’t perhaps quite as needed now,” Mets president of baseball operations David Stearns said. “Power has proliferated throughout all sorts of positions.”

There were more 30-homer shortstops in the majors last season (five) than 30-homer first basemen (four). MLB’s home-run leader was a center fielder (Aaron Judge). Alonso, the top first baseman, ranked 12th overall. Among those ahead of him were a second baseman (Ketel Marte), a shortstop (Gunnar Henderson) and a third baseman (José Ramírez). Fourth on the leaderboard was right fielder Juan Soto, who may step into Alonso’s place in the Mets lineup.

Now teams find power all over.

“Power is really important,” Stearns said. “Hitting home runs is the most effective way to score runs. So we take all that into account, but there are other aspects of how we’re gonna contribute to wins as well.”

Another aspect: defense.

When Terry Francona got his first managerial job with the Philadelphia Phillies in 1997, the conventional wisdom at first base was, as Francona remembers it: Put the big slow guy there. Today, as Francona starts a new gig in Cincinnati, the idea of stashing an unathletic slugger at first base just to get another big bat in the lineup seems shortsighted. The elimination of the infield shift has brought back a need for range and athleticism at the position.

“I don’t think you can hide over there,” Francona said last week. “They impact too much that goes on in your infield. Having a good first baseman makes everybody else better in the infield.”

One-dimensionality is being rooted out of today’s game, which explains why almost every front office and fanbase is interested in Walker. Sure, he’s 34, but his blend of 30-homer power with three Gold Gloves is hard to find. Walker checks a lot of boxes, both old and new.

“I think they’re evaluating players more athletically,” Casey said, “and they’re putting more guys over there who maybe aren’t just first basemen.”’

Mix and match

A position once known for its mainstays — Carlos Delgado, Todd Helton, Mark Teixeira — now often resembles a revolving door. From 2002 (as far back as FanGraphs splits stats by position played) to 2013, an average of 10.8 players per season played at least 140 games at first base. Since 2014, that average has fallen to 7.5 players per season.

“There are some,” Casey said, “but not as many.”

Freddie Freeman. Bryce Harper. Matt Olson.

Guerrero. Alonso. Walker.

Some star power remains, but most clubs address the position with lesser names or platoon partners. In San Diego, contact savant Luis Arraez and career 104 wRC+ hitter Jake Cronenworth share first base and second. In Pittsburgh — a franchise ahead of this curve, having nine years ago replaced slugger Pedro Alvarez with on-base-oriented converted catcher John Jaso — filled a long-standing need at first base by trading for Spencer Horwitz, who didn’t reach the majors until 26 and projects for little power. In Tampa, Yandy Díaz (a right-handed contact hitter) will cede some time at first base to Brandon Lowe (a left-handed power hitter).

“We want them both in the lineup,” Rays manager Kevin Cash said in Dallas. “I’m not overly concerned with where they’re playing as long as they’re being able to be the offensive producers they’ve shown for many years that they have.”

The designated hitter might have some impact on cratering first-base production, but the trend predates the addition of the DH in the National League in 2022. Most teams use DH to rotate regulars through to give them a day off from fielding. Of the few everyday DHs across the sport, almost all are former corner outfielders.

The biggest change in the game, Cash said, is how hard it has become to hit. Casey echoed that analysis. It’s difficult to find any batter, even a one-dimensional one, who can mash against this caliber of pitching. So, more and more teams are mixing and matching part-time players, sifting through batted ball and pitch data to find matchups that just might squeeze one more run across.

“Pitching is so dominant,” Cash said. “I don’t know if it goes to that one position, but I think teams are going to do everything they can to maximize their roster.”

And for teams without a first base mainstay?

“They’re going to put a defense-first guy over there,” Cash said.

Golden age of first basemen

Some of the downward statistical trend can be attributed to the end of an era in which many of the greatest first basemen in major-league history roamed the baseball world.

The sluggers of the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s were predominantly outfielders, but from 1990 to 2010, first base was the position of power. Not exclusively, but significantly. Balls flew, records fell, and superstars were born. According to Baseball-Reference, only two of the top 20 first basemen by WAR debuted in the half-century between Johnny Mize in 1936 and Mark McGwire in 1986. But nine of the top 20 have debuted since 1990.

The past 35 years were a golden age of first basemen, producing at least seven Hall of Famers — nearly one-quarter of all first basemen currently or soon to be enshrined — and perhaps as many as 10 depending on the candidacies of Freeman, Joey Votto and Paul Goldschmidt. Those decades might have produced even more Hall of Famers if not for steroid suspicions impacting a few cases. Undoubtedly, the golden age of first basemen aligns with the steroid era, but it is perhaps not exclusively a product of the steroid era.

“First basemen always bulked up once (Babe) Ruth introduced the home run era,” baseball historian John Thorn said, “because the position demanded so little in the way of range. A fine-fielding first baseman of the early days — Fred Tenney, Hal Chase, George Sisler, et al. — soon proved anomalous when post-deadball teams were in need of runs.”

As the offensive environment exploded, so did the offensive expectations at first base. Eventually, Thorn noted, even an MVP like Keith Hernandez couldn’t measure up to the power numbers of McGwire and Co.

When Fred McGriff hit 31 homers in 1991, he ranked ninth in the majors. When he hit 31 again in 2001, he ranked 34th. Ten first basemen hit more. The game had changed around him until eventually McGwire, Jim Thome and Albert Pujols became the only first basemen ever to hit more than 580 home runs.

“The best hitter on your team was the first baseman,” Casey said.

Notice the past tense.

When Casey reached the big leagues in 1997, first basemen accounted for seven of the top 14 players in slugging percentage. Last season, they were two of the top 23.

First base just doesn’t bang like it used to.

— The Athletic’s Tim Britton and C. Trent Rosecrans contributed reporting to this story.

(Top photo of Pete Alonso: G Fiume / Getty Images)