If you look at the back of a baseball card today, the numbers feel somewhat sanitized. You see guys hitting .260 with 30 homers and everyone acts like they're gods. But Ted Williams? Honestly, his stats look like someone left a cheat code on for twenty years. When we talk about ted williams batting average by year, we aren't just looking at a list of numbers. We are looking at a man who turned hitting into a cold, hard science while the rest of the world was still playing a game.
He was obsessed. The "Splendid Splinter" didn't just want to hit the ball; he wanted to know the air density, the pitcher’s favorite snack, and exactly which quadrant of the strike zone gave him a 15% better chance of a line drive. He finished with a career average of .344. That’s insane. Especially when you realize he gave up five prime years of his life to fly fighter jets in two different wars.
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The Year That Changed Everything: 1941
Most fans point to 1941 as the pinnacle. It’s the year he hit .406. Nobody has done it since. Not Tony Gwynn, not George Brett, not anyone. Heading into the final day of the season, a doubleheader against the Philadelphia Athletics, Williams was sitting at .39955. Mathematically, that rounds up to .400.
His manager, Joe Cronin, told him he could sit out. He could have protected the record from the dugout.
Ted said no.
He went 6-for-8 that day. He didn't just "get" to .400; he kicked the door down. He famously said that if he was going to be a .400 hitter, he wanted "more than my toenails on the line." That season remains the gold standard for consistency. He didn't just hit for average either; he led the league in home runs (37) and walks (147). Basically, if you were pitching to Ted in '41, you were having a bad day.
Ted Williams Batting Average by Year: The Full Statistical Breakdown
To understand the longevity, you have to see the progression. His rookie year in 1939 saw him hit .327 with 145 RBIs. Most players spend their whole lives trying to have one season that good. Ted did it as a 20-year-old kid.
- 1939: .327 (Led the league in RBIs)
- 1940: .344
- 1941: .406 (The legendary season)
- 1942: .356 (Triple Crown winner)
- 1943–1945: (Military Service - WWII)
- 1946: .342 (MVP)
- 1947: .343 (Second Triple Crown)
- 1948: .369
- 1949: .343 (MVP)
- 1950: .317 (Elbow injury limited him)
- 1951: .318
- 1952: .400 (Only played 6 games before Korea)
- 1953: .407 (Only played 37 games after return)
- 1954: .345
- 1955: .356
- 1956: .345
- 1957: .388 (At age 38!)
- 1958: .328 (Oldest player to win a batting title)
- 1959: .254 (The only "bad" year of his life)
- 1960: .316 (The swan song)
Look at 1957. The guy was 38 years old, practically an ancient relic in baseball years, and he hit .388. He had an on-base percentage of .526 that year. He was reaching base more than half the time he stepped to the plate. It's almost comical.
The Gap Years: What If?
It’s the biggest "what if" in sports history. Williams missed three full seasons from 1943 to 1945 and most of 1952 and 1953. We’re talking about five years of his absolute physical prime. If he stays in the lineup, does he hit 700 home runs? Does he collect 3,500 hits?
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Probably.
But Ted didn't complain about it. He was a Marine. He flew 39 combat missions in Korea. He once had his plane hit by small-arms fire and had to crash-land it at 200 mph while it was on fire. He walked away from the wreckage and played a game of baseball shortly after. The discipline he learned in the cockpit—that hyper-focus—is exactly what made his ted williams batting average by year so remarkably stable. He didn't have "slumps" in the traditional sense; he just had periods where the pitchers were smart enough to walk him.
The Science of the Strike Zone
Williams literally wrote the book on hitting. The Science of Hitting is still the bible for many MLB players today. His core philosophy was simple: wait for your pitch. He broke the strike zone down into 77 individual baseball-sized cells. He knew that a ball in the "happy zone" (middle-in) meant a .400 average, while a ball on the low-outside corner meant .230.
He refused to swing at the .230 pitch.
This made him the most feared eye in the game. He walked 2,021 times in his career. Think about that. He spent the equivalent of about four full seasons just walking to first base. Because he wouldn't expand his zone, pitchers had to come to him. When they did, he punished them.
Why 1959 Was Such a Shock
If you look at the list of averages, 1959 sticks out like a sore thumb. .254. For anyone else, that’s a respectable, middle-of-the-road season. For Ted, it was a catastrophe. He was dealing with a nagging neck injury and, frankly, he was 40 years old. People told him to quit. The press—whom he famously had a love-hate (mostly hate) relationship with—was calling for his head.
But Ted was stubborn.
He came back in 1960 for one last ride. He hit .316 and smashed 29 home runs. In his very last at-bat at Fenway Park, he hit a towering home run into the right-field seats. He didn't tip his cap. He didn't acknowledge the crowd. He just ran the bases, went into the dugout, and retired. It was the perfect ending for a man who cared about the craft more than the applause.
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Actionable Insights for Modern Fans
To truly appreciate the ted williams batting average by year, you have to stop comparing him to modern "sluggers" and start comparing him to a master craftsman.
- Contextualize the OBP: While batting average is the headline, his career .482 On-Base Percentage is the real record. It's the highest in the history of the game. He reached base nearly half the time for 19 years.
- Watch the 1941 splits: He didn't just hit .406; he hit .400+ against both lefties and righties. There was no "platoon" advantage against Ted Williams.
- Study the "Science": If you’re a player or a coach, look at his "red zone" charts. The discipline to let a strike go by because it isn't your strike is what separated him from everyone else.
Williams ended with 521 home runs and 2,654 hits. Without the wars, he’s likely the all-time leader in multiple categories. But even with the time lost, his year-by-year performance proves that he was, quite simply, the greatest pure hitter to ever live.
To dig deeper into his mechanics, start by analyzing how his stance widened as he aged to compensate for lost hip speed—a move that allowed him to keep that average above .300 well into his 40s. Also, check out the Sabermetric "Era Adjusted" stats; many analysts believe his 1941 season is even more impressive when adjusted for the pitching he faced.