Baseball players lying about their age is probably about as old as the professional game itself. There's even an old term -- "baseball age" -- associated with the practice.

How common was this practice, way back when? To get at least a rough idea, I went back 50 years, to 1951. The 1952 edition of the Baseball Register lists most of the men who played in the major leagues the previous season. For the first 50 hitters listed (Cal Abrams through Chuck Diering) and the first 50 pitchers listed (John Antonelli through Phil Haugstad), I entered their birth dates as listed in that '52 Register, and then their birth dates as listed in the latest edition of Total Baseball.

And you know what I found? Fifty years ago, a lot of baseball players lied about their age. Among the 100 players that I checked, there's a discrepancy for 17 of them; nine hitters and eight pitchers. Ten of them are one year off, seven are two years off. And of course, this didn't happen just in the 1950s. When Rube Marquard reached the majors in 1908, he claimed he was 18; he was actually 21. When Hal McRae reached the majors in 1968, he said he was 22; he was actually 23.

Today it's extremely rare for an American-born player to shave a year or two from his age, but of course it's not at all rare for a foreign-born player to do so. Just a year ago, we discovered that Rookie of the Year Rafael Furcal was quite likely not 20 years old, as he claimed, but 23. And three years makes a real difference when you're evaluating a young player's future.

Which brings us to Albert Pujols. According to the Cardinals' 2001 Media Guide, Pujols was born on January 16, 1980 in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, and, "at age 16, moved with his father from the Dominican Republic to Kansas City."

Maybe that's true. Probably is true. But when you consider how easy it would have been for Pujols' father to "reinvent" his son's birthday and how rarely a 21-year-old player does what Pujols did last season, wouldn't we be foolish if we didn't at least question his true age?

Of course, none of this has even the slightest thing to do with Pujols' worthiness as the National League's Rookie of the Year. Jimmy Rollins and Roy Oswalt certainly had nice seasons, seasons that might have been good enough for the award in some seasons. But whether Pujols is 21 or 41, he was the best rookie in the National League by a fair piece.

My ballot would read:

1. Pujols
2. Oswalt
3. Rollins
4. Shawn Chacon
5. Adam Dunn

Actually, that's not exactly how it would read, because a Rookie of the Year ballot only has space for three names. And remember when Ben Sheets was the best rookie pitcher in the National League?

Over in the American League, the choice is just as obvious, but let me say that if any baseball writer doesn't place Ichiro Suzuki on his ballot because of Suzuki's experience, that baseball writer should never be allowed to vote for an award. Whether you believe that Ichiro should be eligible or not, the fact is that he is eligible, and if he's eligible he's the obvious and proper choice.

1. Ichiro
2. C.C. Sabathia
3. David Eckstein
4. Alfonso Soriano
5. Joel Pineiro

As you know, Rookie of the Year awards aren't given for potential, they're given for performance. But what if they were given for potential? Who would you vote for then?

The best indicator of future stardom is not performance, per se. It's age. That is, if Player A has inferior stats to Player B but is three years younger, Player A is significantly more likely to be the better player in five years. What's more, impressive young pitchers often -- what, half the time? -- flame out early because of injuries. So if I could have my pick of the 2001 rookies for the next five years, here's my draft list:

1. Albert Pujols
2. Ichiro Suzuki
3. Adam Dunn
4. Jimmy Rollins
5. Alfonso Soriano

No, I'm not sure that Pujols is really 21. But even if he's 23 or 24, that was one heck of a season he just had, and so we can expect him to still be an excellent player in five years. Suzuki turned 28 in October, but fast high-average hitters typically age well, and it's not like Ichiro hasn't been consistent over the years; this year he won his eighth straight batting title. Dunn's a monster and he might be the No. 1 power hitter in the National League five years from now ... but at this moment, his career reminds me of Ben Grieve's, so I'd like to see a little more. Why does Jimmy Rollins rate slightly ahead of Alfonso Soriano? Simple. Rollins plays shortstop and he's 22; Soriano plays second base and he's 23.

Rob can be reached at rob.neyer@dig.com, and to order his books, including the just-published Feeding the Green Monster, click here.