1986 Topps #345

Baseball has the power to mortalize men as much it can do the opposite. Herb Score, Dickie Thon and Tony Conigliaro had promising careers derailed when they were struck by balls, either pitched or lined. Ray Chapman was famously killed by a pitch thrown by Carl Mays in a 1920 game. In 1940, Willard Hershberger filled in for an injured Ernie Lombardi. Though he played rather well, his teammates whispered that a particular game versus the New York Giants would not have been lost if Lombardi were playing instead. Two days later, after Cincinnati lost again to an inferior Braves team in extra innings, Hershberger slit his throat and wrists in a Boston hotel. Lombardi himself would attempt the same in his old age.

In Game 5 of the 1986 American League playoffs, Donnie Moore came in the ninth inning of a 5-4 game with two outs to shut down a rally against Boston. Literally one strike away from sending the Angels to the World Series, Dave Henderson promptly smacked a home run for the lead and the Red Sox were able to win the game and eventually the pennant. Two years later, the former All Star was out of baseball and in 1989, he shot his wife three times during an argument before turning the gun onto himself.

By many accounts, Donnie Ray Moore was not a happy person. He battled depression, alcoholism and drug abuse and it would be irresponsible of us to single out that one pitch to Hendu as the source for all his misery, however tempting it may be after seeing the devasted look on his face in the locker room afterwards. But since athletes are sometimes branded by their crushing failures more than they are by accomplishing feats the rest of us can only name, there are those who say that Moore was simply never able to put the incident all the way behind him. For some, the boos they hear as the result of one game can completely negate the rush of cheers they heard in the 375 games before.

Shut up shut up shutupshutup.

Dear A-Rod,

My admiration for you as a ballplayer is already teetering on reluctance, even though in the past I've actually defended you when people were bitching about how you were sinking the Texas Rangers with your $252 million contract. After all, I reasoned, if you were going to overpay for anybody, it may as well be the guy who is about to enter the prime of the greatest career ever from a weak-hitting position. It wasn't your contract that was the problem; it was (among other examples) paying Chan Ho "Shitty Pitcher" Park $12 million a year and Darren "How the Hell am I Worth $7 Million a Year?" Oliver $7 million dollars a year. People are also fond of saying that you signed with a last-place team just for the money while conveniently forgetting that the Rangers had made the playoffs in three of the previous four years you joined. Therefore, you had every reason to believe that they would continue to be competitive.

When you won the 2003 AL MVP, people asked, "Well, how valuable can he really be if his team finished in last place?" and I'd say, "Because, dummy, what could be more valuable than a Gold Glove shortstop who hits 50 home runs a year?" Even after the infamous fallout of the non-trade of you for Dumb Blonde Ramirez with the Red Sox, I still didn't blame you for wanting to join the Yankees. I mean, who wouldn't want to share the left side of the infield with their girlfriend for the most storied franchise in sports history? And still, even after all that, I had to objectively agree that you deserved the MVP last year over Cookie Monster Ortiz. While he had a sick 1.001 OPS and didn't field at all, you had a slightly sicker 1.031 OPS while playing outstanding defense.

But now? With this whole WBC thing? At first, I thought it was funny how you were walking on eggshells by trying to be patriotic to two countries at once. But like most things that were originally funny, now it's getting annoying. I mean, have you really listened to what you said the other day?

"Just to make it clear, I only spoke once and then I spoke again three months later. All the garbage in between was Major League Baseball. I didn't go back and forth. I said once I wasn't playing, and then at the end I said, 'So OK, I am playing.'"

What? Not-uh. Last year at the All-Star Game, you totally said:

"I am going to play for the Dominican Republic and I am going to make the Dominicans feel proud...I want to say it out loud: I am Dominican...I am Dominican, and that's the flag I will represent in the World Classic...We will have a great team and we will try to win the title so that all the Dominican people will feel proud of their ballplayers and of their own nationality."

Five months later (not three but who's counting? Besides me, I mean.), you were all,

"When faced with the decision to choose between my country, the United States of America, and my Dominican heritage, I decided I will not dishonor either."

And then you were all,

"In recent weeks, following dialogue with caring friends and players, both Dominican and American, I reached the conclusion that if I played in the Classic, I would play for the United States and honor my American citizenship."

And now you're trying to tell everybody you didn't say what you really said and that Major League Baseball was "leaking information" when it was really you saying what you said the entire time? Whatever. Stop acting like a passive-aggressive pussy already. You're being a total bitch.

"The game of baseball has been my whole life. It's given me everything I have. If I didn't think this was better for the game, the growth of the game, I wouldn't be playing. I felt that I owe this to the game. I've made the right decision. I'm very proud to be playing for the USA team. I plan to enjoy it."

Shut up. I don't want to hear it anymore.

"Most people are not going to understand. They're going to ridicule me and make fun of it. Unless you understand my background and where I come from-"

I said shut up! God.

1988 Topps #468

When this author was but 11 or 12, his father took him, his younger brother and his then-best friend to a Phillies game at Veterans Stadium, a concrete coliseum that resembled a cross between a toilet bowl and an unflushed toilet bowl with humongous turds floating in it. The Phillies of those years were, of course, those turds. However, no one sucked worse than Darren Daulton, whose abysmal sublevels of suckitude were so legendary in Philadelphia that they were almost unimaginable. No one could possibly suck this bad and still be good enough to be on a non-Philadelphian major league roster. In 1985, he batted .201. He made progress in 1986 by batting .225, only to undo such improvement by batting .194 the next year. In 1988 and 1989, he batted .208 and .201 respectively but suddenly, he took a giant step forward in 1990 with a very unDutch-like line of .268/.367/.416. These numbers for a catcher would be much more appreciated in the Moneyball era of the now but he sucked anyway. Almost as if he were trying to prove that he sucked, he went back to batting .196 the following year.

But in 1992, something amazing happened. Right before our very eyes, Dutch not only stopped sucking but became a great player; one of the best catchers in the game. To this day, I don't know what happened that offseason. Maybe he caught onto to the benefits of exercise and nutrition a bit earlier than everybody else. Maybe he starting eating Wheaties. Maybe he starting eating steroids. But Dutch clubbed 27 home runs, became only the 4th catcher in Baseball history to lead the league in RBI and his fantastic .908 OPS was 4th-best in the National League. He repeated such success the next year and part of a pretty good (if slightly flukish) line-up of Phillie hitters that went to the World Series. He became a three-time All Star, helped the Florida Marlins win a ring by hitting .389/.455/.667 in the 1997 World Series and from a performance/position perspective, was one of the most valuable players in the game during his prime. He even married a one-time Hooters spokeslady, which is more than enough to make any man feel redeemed for batting .194. Perhaps no one in the history of any sport has salvaged the suckiness of his career as well as Darren Daulton did.

But while reversing his own fortunes is admirable, he has been arrested several times for DUI, speeding, refusing to take a Breathalyzer test, failing to appear in court and for beating his poor wife. I mean, isn't it bad enough that she wasn't blessed with the smarts to not work at Hooters? Which brings me to the point I've been digressing from since the second sentence of this post. Coming home from John Kruk's bachelor party one night, he and Lenny Dykstra drunkenly wrapped a car around a tree. Sometime shortly before that aforementioned game my father took us to, the three of us were walking the complete circle (much like turds whirlpooling down a toilet) above the 300 level of the stadium and came across the bullpen where Dutch was warming up one of their crappy pitchers. With my kid brother in tow, my friend and I leaned over the railing, got his attention and shouted, "Friends don't let friends drink and drive!" Dutch promptly chucked a rosin bag at us but not before we were able to run like hell and self-congratulatory laugh our fools heads off over our ingenious wit. It is a story I have nostalgically repeated numerously ever since and I was shocked to find this article from Sports Illustrated. I am disappointed to report that it was not a rosin bag Darren threw at our heads but rather:

...just a mirage of innumerable particles constantly speeding up or slowing down. But the Fourth and Fifth Dimensions remain unseen by most people. Their vibrations are at a lower frequency.

I mean, wow. So if a tree falls and no one hears it, does it make a sound? If that rosin bag ended up hitting one of us, would we have been hurt? If a man hits .194 and every newspaper reports that it happened as millions of people witnessed it, did it really happen after all? Say what you will about Daulton becoming Baseball's answer to Tom Cruise but frankly, I think this article explains a lot. If you don't believe me, scroll back up and look at his baseball card from 1988, particularly the top left-hand side. Where is the rest of the bat? I always thought it was accidentally airbrushed by some hack intern in the Topps art department or maybe Dutch had been hitting with only half a bat for the first half of his career before he realized he could triple his home run total by hitting the same way everyone else does. This has been bothering the hell out of me for 17 years but now I see because all this time, I wasn't using my sixth sense and my vibration was at a lower frequency. The rest of the bat just isn't fucking there.

I don't know what to believe anymore.

Oh, Coco!

Finally.

After weeks of yes-no-maybe-wait-I-don't-know trade talks, Prince Theo and Mark Shapiro finally hunkered down and the Sox of Boston got their center fielder. Guillermo Mota failed his physical (which shouldn't be surprising if you heard about this) and Boston had to throw in a PTBNL or cash to sweeten the already-pretty-sweet pot. Meanwhile, Cleveland had to wait out the formalities on the Arthur Rhodes-for-Jason Michaels trade to Philadelphia. Y'know. Just in case they should suddenly need a left fielder who can also beat up cops. I'm not sure if that's the kind of slugging teams look for but whatever. He's still a heckuva fourth outfielder.

For all the players exchanged, this is basically a challenge trade of two terrific young players so it may take upward of five years to see who wins out. Though I'd be reluctant to forfeit Andy Marte (possibly the best prospect in the game), the Red Sox desperately needed a replacement for Johnny Metro and found a great one in Covelli Loyce Crisp. In addition to being a speedy leadoff hitter who will be younger, oh-so-much cheaper and (dare I say it? Yes. I dare.) better than their last speedy leadoff hitter, Coco Crisp has one of the best names in Baseball since me. Because of this, the Sox should recoup half his salary in jersey sales alone.

As for the other guys, they serve as slight upgrades for the Indians. I like Mota ever-so-slightly better than David Riske, who will be pelted by tomatoes all summer long as he comes out of the bullpen to give up lead-blowing home run after lead-blowing home run in Fenway. I like Kelly Shoppach less than I did a couple years ago but the exact same thing could be said for every single prospect in the history of ever that doesn't live up to my expectations, however modest. Still, I'd recommend him more than Josh Bard, who will battle John Flaherty in spring training for the miserable privilege of catching Tim Wakefield's knuckler.

It's hard to miss somebody who didn't even really leave.

Prince Theo of Boston has shedded his gorilla suit and returned to preside over his loyal subjects. His retirement was short-lived and by many accounts, wasn't even all that retired, as he was reportedly still making phone calls on their behalf. Still, while this is certainly good news for the front office, it's not like they were in the shambles that many believed it to be and they weren't worse off without him. In his kinda-sorta absence, co-GMs Ben Cherington and Jed Hoyer snagged Josh Beckett, Mike Lowell and Guillermo Mota for prospects they were never really going to use, fleeced an All-Star second baseman for a back-up catcher and cut their losses on Edgar Renteria by trading him for grade-A prospect Andy Marte. They have no center fielder or regular shortstop, though I think the latter can be filled with a creative platooning of Loretta, Tony Graffanino and Alex Cora until Dustin Pedroia is ready, which could be much sooner than everyone expects. Still, I can't imagine them doing things much different than Theo would've done; for all his boyish charm and people skills, even he wouldn't have kept Johnny Damon from bolting. At any rate, a formal announcement to his official title is expected in a few days and in the meantime, I have complete faith of their ability to replace their old caveman-turned-metrosexual center fielder.

In other Boston news, Bronson Arroyo signed for the low, low price of approximately 3 years, $12 million. Considering what the Mr. Anna Bensons and Alyssa Milano's Ex-Boyfriends of the world are making, this is a terrific deal for Boston. On the other hand, Arroyo's agent is right in thinking that this is somewhat naive of the guy named after one-seventh of The Magnificent Seven. It's one thing to pledge your allegiance to Red Sox Nation but it can be another thing to make yourself cheap enough so you'll be more vulnerable to be traded to a crappy team. In terms of dollars versus performance, Bronson is one of the better values around and could find himself on a crappy non-contender if the right deal presents itself. If I were his agent, I would've told him the same thing. But I also would've advise him to keep the white-boy cornrows and to not put out shitty cover albums of shittier mid-90s grunge songs, so I might not be the best guy to ask.

Isn't it presumptuous to call it a classic if it hasn't even happened yet?

In the great debate over the relevancy of the World Baseball Classic, Buster and Jimmy offer their collective four cents. No one cares about the opinion of an anonymous blogger posing as a dead 19th century ballplayer but for the record (as long as I'm recording it), I've been having my own internal debate and here is the full, unedited transcript of my Point-Counterpoint on the subject:

Point: I don't care.

Counterpoint: Me neither.

Point: Let's play video games.

Counterpoint: Okay.

In a perfect world, it would be a nice idea but it's just going to be a glorified spring training exhibition. Not all of the best will be playing and those who are will be mailing in half-assed performances in their completely-justified paranoia of getting injured in a meaningless game. Not to mention pitch counts will be monitored more closely than the Bush Administration does your telephone. But if it makes a couple people happy I just might ended up paying a little attention to it.

Still, there's been a humorous (if you're the type to find humor in poking fun at the weaknesses of others) subplot to all this and I agree with B & J on one thing: A-Rod is a passive-aggressive pussy.

Philadelphia is still Phtupid.

You can call Pat Gillick brutally honest if you want to and I realize he's only had the job for 77 days but I'm wondering if his tenure in Philadelphia is going to be just like his one in Seattle; a series of non-moves and missed opportunities to better the team and push them over from coulda-shoulda-woulda almost-contenders to actual perennial contenders. I mean, they don't call him "Stand" Pat for nuthin', folks. Like a guy in a poker game who doesn't want any more cards because he likes the hand that he already has. Y'know. Stand Pat. That's why they call him that. Because that's what he does.

Phil Sheridan from the Philadelphia Inquirer sez:

The new GM rightly says that it will all come down to his ability to find a true No. 1 starting pitcher. Not somebody else's carefully sheltered No. 2 and not a No. 3 with delusions of grandeur, but a legit top-of-the-rotation ace.

"I'm talking about a guy with power, a guy who can stop a losing streak, who can strike people out," Gillick said yesterday.

What? Like who? Even if they use Bobby Abreu as a bargaining chip as rumored, who the hell is available on the market that can bring that to Philadelphia? Nevermind that Abreu is easily the best player on the Phillies, arguably the most complete all-around hitter in the game and has a complete no-trade clause. Who can they get? Barry Zito? Possible, but Oakland can't afford the $28 million Abreu is guaranteed through this year and next. Even if Patty-Cakes agrees to eat even more salary than he's already chewing for Jim Thome, Zito has been continuing his steady decline since his 2002 Cy Young campaign, with his strikeout rate going down at the same rate his walks are climbing. He doesn't have power and he won't strike people out. Dude'll get hammered in Citizens Bank. Matt Clement? Another maybe, in a package deal, but he's certainly not the top-of-the-rotation star that Philadelphians have in their eyes. I've also heard the oh-so-low Mark Prior rumblings but while Jim Hendry has made some dumbass moves, trading Prior will not be one of them.

Given their needs and a prolific-ish offense, I can see how Abreu is expendable in the right deal. But if it's pitching they were after, then why didn't they make a run at the Let's Overpay for A.J. Burnett Sweepstakes? He wouldn't have been the stopper they're looking for, but at the very least he would've continued Philadelphia's fine-honed tradition of compiling a rotation full of #2 and #3 starters. Going into 2006, their rotation options consists of a guy who could actually be pretty darn good, followed by a guy who's just okay, two guys who suck, one guy who's out until at least July with Tommy John surgery, a completely unpredictable 23 year-old, a guy they can't figure out a role for, and some guy named Robinson Tejeda, who somehow started 13 games for them last year without my noticing.

Is it really necessary for the Phillies to play this year? I mean, can't we just award them third place and get it over with?

Haaaaaamon!

Nomar to play for Mexico in World Baseball Classic.

Funny, I thought he was Jewish. What with the nose and the cheap contract and all.

1986 Topps #649

Y'know, Ronny boy, you might've gotten the starting job over Kid Carter if you're weren't so busy congratulating the opposition on their run-scoring abilities, especially when they were actually in the middle of scoring a run.

Korrection.

Since I don't want to be one of those illiterate bloggers shooting off at the mouth and presenting things that aren't true as facts, I would like to retract my last post about available pitchers and note that two days before I had opened my big stupid mouth, Al Leiter had signed a minor-league contract with the Yankees and Byung-Hyun Kim re-signed with Colorado. I also completely neglected to mention Jeff Weaver as an available option, which he should take as an insult since he's a pretty good pitcher who should make plenty of teams happy with his performance, if not the dollars he'll eventually get.

Unlike, oh, say, everyone else, I'm still a believer in Kim. People forget that the kid is only 27 and probably the hardest-throwing submariner in Baseball's history. When Prince Theo traded one of the most overrated players in the game for him during the 2003 season, I remember wondering just how drunk he must've gotten Arizona to screw them up the ass like that, to say nothing of trading nothing for Curt Schilling when he finally decided to call them in the morning six months later.

Alas, it didn't work out for Boston. Though he helped stabilize an otherwise shaky bullpen with a 3.16 ERA in 79.1 innings of work, he blew a 12th inning save in Game One of the 2003 playoffs against Oakland, which preceded flipping off the booing Fenway faithful as he was introduced before them a couple days later. Closing championship games clearly isn't Kim's strong suit, as he also blew two 9th inning saves for the Diamondbacks at Yankee Stadium during the 2001 World Series. And that was when he was just 22. That said, you'd have to wonder about the emotional psyche of a kid who has clearly demonstrated not only the inability to handle high-pressure situations but also the public humiliation that comes in its aftermath. Fucking up three different crucial games in front of a televised audience of millions by the time you're 24? That's enough to make any man sensitive enough to give the middle finger to anyone else that boos him for it.

Psychological evaluations aside (which I won't pretend to be smart enough to accurately make), Kim is more than talented enough to justify the $1.5 million he's guaranteed in 2006. He's still young enough to get his shit together and have a damn good career but unfortunately for all the natural talent they may possess, some people just aren't mentally wired to handle being professional athletes and Kim may be one of them. Which is kind of exactly why I root for him.

Another Philadelphia Pholly.

Because the Phillies are dumb, they signed pitcher Ryan Franklin to a one-year contract worth $2.6 million. It isn't the dollars that I'm concerned with (in fact, that's damn reasonable money for a fifth starter these days); it's that they signed him at all. I mean, are they aware that the man has given up 95 homes runs in the past three years, all while calling Safeco (a notorious pitcher's park) home? I realize that the pickens on the FA table are slim these days, what with Byung-Hyun Kim, Kevin Brown and Al Leiter being your best options. But why, why, why, why, why, WHY in hell would Pat Gillick make such a dumbass move as to sign the most flyball prone hurler in the game to play in Citizens Bank Park? Look, Pat, getting Aaron Rowand to cover center and gobble up those extra flies was a nifty move but the fact remains that he can only catch balls that fall INSIDE THE PARK. Anything that goes over the wall is pretty much out of his hands. I also realize that moving out the fences a few feet will help as well but if I haven't said this before (and I'm too lazy to scroll up a couple lines to see), Safeco Field is a notorious pitcher's park. If it didn't make any difference there, why should it make any difference in Philly?

1979 Topps #324

I don't care if it's not the same guy or not I'm still not fucking with him.

1988 Topps #717

The porn 'stache? The jheri curl? The jungle of chest hair? The mesh jersey? Two layers of cheap bling? And his last name is Baller? Amazing is the man who manages to be 10 years behind the times and 10 years ahead of the times while still accurately representing the times in which he lives.

1987 Topps #321

March 21, 1987

Busch Stadium
250 Stadium Plaza
St. Louis, MO 63102

Dear Mike,

Don't you ever fucking show up to play for my team wearing a pink jersey ever fucking again.

Best,
Whitey Herzog,
Manager - St. Louis Cardinals

Marathon Postscript

See, this is why I love this game. You can't make this shit up.

Quite possibly the Luckiest Boy in the World.

1985 Topps #706

In 1984, Rickey Henderson was incredulous to discover that he was named to the American League All-Star team instead of the Hall of Fame.

Instead of playing two, let's play one twice as long.

Holy crap, what a marathon. 18 innings and 14 pitchers. This is playoff baseball. I mean, when was the last time Rocket came out of the bullpen in the 16th inning? If box scores are poetry, then this is goddam Homeric.

In other news, the guy with the single greatest pitch ever recorded his 7,326th post-season save. I think that's some sort of record or something.

Paul Punk-Ass Konerko.

Doesn't quite roll off the tongue as well as Bucky Fucking Dent or Aaron Bleeping Boone but the Sox season came to a near-abrupt halt last night. I'd be a lot more devastated if they kept me teetering on the brink like the last two years but now it feels like a mere shoulder shrug away from getting over it.

On the other hand, I do take much perverted pleasure in Randy Johnson's line last night in Game 3 against the Angels:

3.0 IP, 9 H, 5 R, 5 ER, 0 BB, 2 K, 2 HR.

Yummy. Thanks, Randy.

1987 Topps #481

Von Hayes: Okay, guys, I didn't want to bring this up around the rest of the team but just between us three, who do you think sucks the worst?

Glenn Wilson: Oh, it's Steve Jeltz. Definitely Steve Jeltz.

Juan Samuel: Really? I was thinking Rick Schu.

Von Hayes: Those are good answers but I'd say Darren Daulton.

Juan Samuel: Darren Daulton? He's a three-time All Star! He once lead the league in RBI!

Von Hayes: Dude, it's not 1992 yet.

Juan Samuel: Oh, right.

The Comeback Kids.

Ken Griffey Jr. just may be the most root-able player in the game. Of all the top sluggers in the 1990s, he's virtually the only survivor who has escaped the "is-he-or-isn't-he?" whispers of witch hunt finger-pointing frenzy that steroids ignited in Baseball. True Class Acts are rare in sports; what athlete is without some sort of controversy? And what athletes are impossible to hate? I think we all root for the Cincinnati Kid, a bizarro pedigree of his Big Red Machine father and another certain left-handed outfielder born in Donora, Pennsylvania on November 21st, because he plays the game like we did when we were 9.

If he retired today, he would be a first-ballot Hall of Famer. As he is now, 2005 was the closest year he's had to a full season since 2000. Like Andruw Jones today, we used to forget how young Griffey really was. Now we're forgetting how old he's really getting. But in his Age 35 Season, Ken Griffey Jr. smacked 35 home runs in 128 games on his way to a fantastic .945 OPS, good for 14th in the majors. Giving the freak injuries that have numbed his decade so far, Junior's 2005 is a welcome return to form for fans and is exactly the kind of player this award was invented for.

Jason Giambi, on the other hand...Well, of course, he had a torrid July-on, re-establishing himself as a force in the deep Yankee lineup. But isn't it obvious what he was coming back from? Considering how steroids has revealed itself as a stain on Baseball's blouse, what's the lesson they're teaching to ballplayers and the public at large here? Look, I actually pride myself on not really giving a shit about the morality issue concerning steroids but does this bother anyone else? I mean, giving a $13,428,571 first baseman who can't play first base an award for not doing drugs anymore? I know his OBP was sick and all but come on, now...

P.S. - Because they just couldn't pass up an opportunity to be involved with another one of McCain's suspects, Viagra, in conjunction with Major League Baseball, is now sponsoring the Comeback Player of the Year Award. One performance-enhancing drug company rewards another performance-enhancing drug user. Horray!