Player review: Jung Hoo Lee

2025 stats:150 G, 617 PA, .266 / .327 / .407, 107 wRC+, .141 ISO, .291 BABIP, 7.6 BB%, 11.5 K%, 2.4 fWAR

Remember April? Remember how great the Giants were — the kind of great that got people ridiculously excited, that caused young men to see visions and old men to dream dreams and millennial bloggers to tap dance their fingers across their computer keyboards. San Francisco by the end of April would have a .600+ winning percentage. They were just two games behind the coastal poles of LA and NYC for the top of the National League, and their record would’ve been tied for the top in the American League.

All of this positivity and vibes and joie de vivre surrounding our Giants had a whole heckuva a lot to do with what Jung Hoo Lee was doing in the batter’s box. The numbers he produced had the energy and desire of a dog let out of their crate after a six-hour flight wrapped in the disciplined, purposeful, and stoic manner of a cat perfectly content to muse for hours within the confines of a shoebox. People were talking about him — and not just Bay Area people either. Video essays were filmed, fan groups assembled, articles were written about his swing mechanics: how he was consciously shifting his point of contact deeper to better use all fields; he adjusted his front foot landing closer to the plate and lengthened his swing to better cover the outer-third of the plate. There was data and then devotion. The Hoo Lee Gans lit their heads on fire. Away stadiums boasted a pocket of Lee supporters. One excitable writer’s headline implied that Lee’s bat served as a sort of divine divining rod. After homering twice in a game at Yankee Stadium, and thrice in the series, rain poured from the heavens.

April ended with Lee’s 151 wRC+ a-top the Giants’ leaderboard. He paced the offense in average (.319), slugging (.526), and OPS (.901). While we hoped Lee’s natural contact rate would help him produce a .300 average, the power numbers he produced meant he was clearly swinging out of his shoes. It was a pace he couldn’t sustain. 

Rather than settling in at a reasonable cruising altitude after the rapid take-off, Lee unfortunately plummeted. April crashed into May, and everything came to a screeching halt. Swings that had barrelled pitches on the outside part of the plate, producing improbable line-drives in the first month, started to generate weak groundouts. Holes found by well-struck grounders were patched up by defenders. Over the next 51 games and 216 plate appearances, Lee recorded a team-low .193 average. His slugging (.313), OPS (.586), and wRC+ (67) were bottomed out only by numbers produced by Tyler Fitzgerald, who had been relieved of his position by the end of June. 

Lee nose-dived, and the whole team went with him. The slump was a real vibe killer. Fire wigs were solemnly removed. Eye-contact avoided as heads were scratched. Articles were written. Grant Brisbee for The Athletic mused that this was part of the deal. Lee as a high-contact, low-power type of player was uniquely susceptible to these kinds of surges and slumps because he is so reliant on the notoriously fickle BABIP. Another explanation: the league adjusted to him. And it was a simple tweak, too: throw more fastballs down the middle. The ol’ here-hit-it heater exploited his long bat and slow swing, and often disconnected his top half from his bottom. More routine groundballs and more routine fly-outs to left and less squared-up line-drives. Opposing pitches kept throwing the pitch until he could prove that it was a mistake to do so. 

He did eventually. It’s easy to forget this too, because of how bad the whiplash was from the sudden slump. We’re still sucking our teeth and rubbing our necks, doubting everything. Two years in, and we’re still unclear on this guy. Is Lee the .320 hitter and a doubles machine, or is he doomed to roll weak grounders to the right side for the rest of his Giants tenure? 

I think what Lee produced at the plate over the last three months of the season feels like the real thing. We saw the extremes and then we saw him settle in. His batting average flirted with .300 and led the team from July to the end of the season (273 PA). His slugging (.425), OPS (.773) and wRC+ (118) ranked third behind Willy Adames and Rafael Devers. The line-drive swing-path returned, helping him to pull the ball without rolling over it. He tucked flares inside the right-field foul line and legged out doubles. A baseball would occasionally find a gap off the bat, and the helmet flying as he churned around second, the jet-black hair flowing as he blew into third. It wasn’t the face-melting offense of April, but geez, it was pleasant, like a soft ocean breeze against your skin. Sounds about right. If we follow a genealogical breakdown of air — a breeze would probably be the grandson of the wind. 

So I cling to hope with his bat in 2026. He’ll bulk up a bit, hopefully speed up his swing, hopefully get more aggressive stealing bases (just 10), and of course, he won’t be learning and adjusting on the fly as much with a full Major League season’s worth of on-field experience under his hat. 

Can we be as optimistic about his defense? Lee’s fielding metrics on both Fangraphs and Baseball Savant are pretty damning. Savant graded him well on his arm but docked him with a -5 OAA (11th percentile) for an overall Fielding Run Value of -2. His -18 Defensive Runs Saved ranked the lowest out of all qualified centerfielders, separated from leader Ceddane Rafaela by 48 runs saved. While defensive stats have been notoriously finicky, that kind of extreme result certainly grabs one’s attention. Can some of this be explained away — again — by the fact that this was essentially Lee’s rookie season, meaning he was adjusting to a lot of different park dimensions, environmental variables, the demands of playing the position over a longer season, as well as learning to assert himself as the meat of the outfield sandwich? Sure!  Lee’s struggles weren’t as in your face as a line-drive clanging off Heliot Ramos’s glove — though Lee did catch a flyball with his knees (fun! but ill-advised).

The adjustments that need to be made are all tough to pick-up on in the moment — they’re all jumps and reads and routes measured in partial seconds and degrees. I think he’s a better defender than 2025’s numbers say, and I don’t think it’d be the worst thing in the world if he manned center again in 2026 — especially if someone like Kyle Tucker (haha!) is populating right and papering over a multitude of other outfield production issues.

All in all, Jung Hoo Lee’s 2025 was fine. For what he’s getting paid, fine won’t cut it in 2026. A hot month is just too short. April, so long ago. Fans are desperate for an excuse to light their hair on fire again, and they’re desperate for Lee to be the reason.