Best Catcher Seasons Ever

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At the end of 2003, the Kansas City Royals spent way too much money to sign catcher Benito Santiago, who was, according to carbon dating, approximately 834 years old. Those were heady days in Kansas City. The Royals had somehow managed to stay in first place in the American League Central for most of the 2003 season. The reasons for this minor miracle (it was not quite as large a miracle as turning water into wine – more like the minor miracle of making one day’s worth of oil last for eight days) would become apparent over time. Heck, the reasons were probably apparent then:

-- Lousy division.
-- An unrepeatable and fluky .304 batting average with runners in scoring position.
-- The supreme talents of the soon-to-be-gone Carlos Beltran.
-- The steadiness of the soon-to-be-gone Raul Ibanez.
-- A month and a half where Jose Lima improbably pitched like Greg Maddux (He was, at one point, 7-0 with a 2.17 ERA).
-- The artificial emergence of Angel Berroa.

It took all these things and many more for the Royals to finish the season at 83-79 – a mediocre season for most other clubs but a godsend for Kansas City. After so many awful years, everybody wanted to believe (so much so that Tony Peña’s “Nosotros Creemos” T-shirts could be found all over town). And this was especially true of Royals management. They failed to re-sign Raul Ibanez, but they went free agent crazy in that moderate, self-defeating small-market way. The re-signed Brian Anderson, who was coming off his best season, and they re-signed Joe Randa. They re-signed Curtis Leskanic. They re-signed Jason Grimsley. They went outside the organization too – they signed Tony Graffanino. They signed Matt Stairs. For the big headline, they nabbed Juan Gonzalez. Nostros Creemos, indeed.

As you know (if you care) the Royals 2004 season was a disaster and just about every one of the players Kansas City signed turned in catastrophic seasons. But I didn’t bring up any of this to relive bad Royals’ memories. I brought it up because one of the many bad signings that year was Benito Santiago.

And here’s what I remember about Santiago. He would not give a target to the pitcher. He just wouldn’t. He crouched behind the plate, kept his glove down between his legs, and basically wore a look that said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah throw whatever you want, I’m too old to lift up my glove for some young punk like you. I’ve been catching baseballs since the Mesozoic Age, kiddo.”

There were a few complaints, from what I recall, mostly on talk radio. And then Tony Peña, who knows a little something about catching, said that giving a target was overrated anyway. A couple of pitchers agreed and gave quote that basically said: “Hey, this isn’t Little League – we don’t need catchers to give us targets.” And so on.

The Royals had so many other problems that year the no-target thing blew over, but I’ve thought a lot about it. If holding up a target doesn’t really matter then what the hell is a catcher out there for except to block balls in the dirt, catch pop-ups and try to throw out base stealers?

In other words: How important is catcher’s defense anyway?

People in baseball generally believe that catcher’s defense is pretty important – more important than, say, a good energy policy or homeland security. Royals’ manager Buddy Bell is pretty typical, I think – he won’t even talk about his catcher’s offense. He just won’t. When Kansas City catcher John Buck got off to a hot start with the bat (a start that, apparently, is over now), Buddy would more or less refuse to answer any questions about it. He believes catchers are out there for one thing, and one thing only. Defense. In Buddy’s world (and the world of most managers, I would say), catchers handle pitchers and block balls in the dirt and call the game. And this explains why Jason Larue’s .194 batting average is in the lineup every other day. Buddy thinks LaRue handles pitchers well.

On the other hand, there seems to be a strong counter-group that believes catcher’s defense belongs in Woody Allen’s Museum of the Overrated. Statistically, it is very difficult to find much evidence that pitchers throw better to certain catchers or even evidence that catchers’ defense is any more important than, say, a second baseman’s defense or a centerfielder or whatever.

All of this comes up because in today’s blog were are ranking the 10 best catcher seasons ever, and it’s hard to know just how much defense to throw in there. The best offensive seasons are easy – it begins with Mike Piazza’s 1997 season. But Piazza that year had 10 passed balls, 16 errors and threw out pretty much nobody on the bases. How do you compare that with, say, Johnny Bench in ’72 or Ivan Rodriguez in ’99 or Bill Dickey in 1936?

So I came up with another mathematically unsound system that tries to rate all those things a catcher does. The system fails miserably, as is apparent from the very first guy on the list. But the system took too long for me to come up with it … so you’re stuck with it too.

10. Chris Hoiles, 1993.
Catcher score: 140
Key statistics: .310, 29, 82, .416 on-bat percentage.

Thoughts: Yikes, the system is off to a very bad start. Hoiles in 1993? And he beat out Carlton Fisk in 1977 and Jorge Posada in 2003 by one point each. There’s something very, very wrong here. I feel like one of those ventriloquists who acts surprised when his dummy says something crude.

That said, Hoiles did pound the ball in 1993. He wasn’t embarrassingly bad against base stealers (he threw out 47 of 114). He only had a couple of passed balls. And the Orioles pitching staff that year did not appear to wildly underachieve – they just weren’t much good.

INTERLUDE: That was some pitching staff, by the way, the 1993 Orioles. Those Orioles had a young Ben McDonald and a young Mike Mussina. They had Jamie Moyer, who was 30 and just beginning to figure things out. They had an ancient Rick Sutcliffe. And, this is the one I don’t remember at all, they had Fernando Valenzuela.

With a time machine, how good could that staff have been? And what would be the best time machine staff in baseball history? Maybe we’ll do that one later.

Back to Hoiles. I think the system has this wrong. I think Fisk in 1977 (.315, 26, 102) had a better year than Hoiles, but so it goes.

9. Ivan Rodriguez, 1999
Catcher score: 145
Key statistics: .332, 35, 113. 25 stolen bases.

Thoughts: Pudge v.2.0 won the MVP award – this was that crazy Pedro Martinez year – and I don’t think he deserved it. BUT this might be the greatest defensive year a catcher has ever had. Bill James thinks so – Rodriguez earned 11.95 Fielding Win Shares this season, and that’s more than any other catcher, any other year.

His defense really was amazing. That’s why he’s on this list – his offensive numbers, in context, are not as impressive as many others who missed the list (including Dick Dietz in 1970 – what a year. Dietz hit .300, walked 109 times, banged 22 homers, drove in 107 runs, wow. Dick Dietz!).

Rodriguez’s arm was so overwhelming that hardly anybody tried to steal bases against him – and those who did usually ended up dead. He threw out 41 of 75 runners. The Rangers pitching staff was pretty brutal, and there were rumors than Rodriguez was bad at handling pitchers. In retrospect, the Rangers’ pitching problems might have had something to do with the fact their rotation was Rick Helling, Aaron Sele, John Burkett, a 493-year-old Mike Morgan, Mark Clark and Ryan Glynn.

8. Yogi Berra, 1953
Catcher score: 150
Key statistics: .296, 27, 108.

Thoughts: Everybody loves Yogi. The guy’s lovable. His role as Yogi in the barber’s chair is the DeNiro in Godfather II performance of the AFLAC commercials. (The new AFLAC goat? I’m not getting it. Though that “Nyah nyah nyah” thing is pretty funny). And even though Yogi admits that he didn’t say half the things he said, his quotes remain a classic part of the game:

-- “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over.” (He probably said this).
-- “This is like déjà vu all over again.” (He didn’t say this – no way).
-- “I want to thank you all for making this day necessary” (Yogi Berra Day, 1947, yeah, he probably said this).
-- “How the hell you gonna think and hit at the same time.” (I think he said this).
-- “Nobody goes to that restaurant anymore. It’s too crowded.” (I doubt it’s his).
-- “If the fans don’t come to the ballpark, you can’t stop them.” (Supposedly said about Kansas City fans – it’s probably his).
-- “You should always go to other people’s funerals otherwise they won’t go to yours.” (I doubt it.)
-- “Why buy good luggage? You can only use it when you travel.” (That’s his).
-- “It gets late early out there.” (Talking about the Yankee Stadium outfield).
-- “You can observe a lot by just watching. (Sounds like Yogi).

The key thing here is that you can invent a Yogi Berra quote pretty much anytime you want. It’s easy. There are three ways to do it.

(1) Take a famous cliché of some kind and switch out a couple of the words so that it loses its meaning:

Cliche: “You’ve got to take it one day at a time.”
Yogified: “You’ve got to take it one time a day.”

Cliche: “Sometimes you’ve just got to tip your cap to the other guy.”
Yogified: “Sometimes you’ve just got to tip the other guy.”

Cliche: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
Yogified: “Like the man said, it was the best of the worst times or something.”

(2) Say two opposing things in the same sentence so that it sounds vaguely wise.

New Yogiism: “The best time to sleep is when you’re awake.”
New Yogiism: “I only vote for politicians who I wouldn’t vote for.”
New Yogiism: “You should only bunt when you shouldn’t bunt.”

(3) Say something that shows a childlike lack of understanding:

New Yogiism: “The sun rises every morning except when it’s cloudy.”
New Yogiism: “I only read stories that have words in them.”
New Yogiism: “It’s amazing how clouds are always the shape that you think they are.”

7. Gary Carter, 1984
Catcher score: 152
Key statistics: .294, 27, 106.

Thoughts: OK, so how many baseball players through the years have been called “Kid?”

Well, there was Kid Nichols, Kansas City’s own. Won 361 games. He was an instant sensation – won 27 game his first season with the Boston Beaneaters – and won 20 or more the next nine years. Beloved player. Don’t know why they called him Kid.

Then again, in those early days, every other player was called Kid. There was Kid Baldwin, Kid Carsey, Kid Camp, Kid Keenan, Kid Madden, Kid Mohler, Kid O’Hara, Kid Speer, Kid Summers, Kid Wilson, Kid Durbin, Kid Withrow and two Kid Butlers, one Butler hit .169 in 71 games in 1884, the other Butler hit .220 in 1907.

Of course, there was Kid Gleason, the lovable ol’ Black Sox manager who played by lovable ol’ John Mahoney in “Eight Men Out.” Kid Gleason led the league in sacrifice hits as a player. Twice.

They called Billy DeMars “Kid,” even though most of us only remember him as the seemingly ancient coach with the Phillies and Reds. They called Mal Eason “Kid,” and then they hit him like a kid – his career record was 36-72.

Ted Williams was, of course, “The Kid,” along with being “The Splendid Splinter,” “The Thumper” and “Teddy Ballgame.” You will notice that three of Williams’ nicknames begin with the honorific “The.” He wasn’t “Kid Williams.” He was “The Kid.”

George Stutz managed only nine at-bats in the big leagues, but he had two nicknames – Kid and Satan. It’s hard to see how Stutz managed to create such a huge impression in such a short time – though he was only 5-foot-5, and really short and really large people are usually the first to get nicknames.

Ron Moeller was “The Kid” for obvious reasons – he came up to the big leagues in 1956 when he was only 17 years old. Amazingly, he was not even the youngest player in the league that year. The youngest player was 16-year-old Jim Derrington. They called him “Blackie.”

Eddie Foster, who has six homers in more than 5,000 at-bats – that’s a record – was called Kid. So was Willie McGill, who came up when he was 16 and pitched to the rip old age of 22.

There were other kinds of kids too – Ernie Smith was the Kansas City Kid, even though he was born in Totowa, New Jersey. Johnnie Seale was the Durango Kid. Norman Elberfeld played 14 years, and everybody called him Kid, but that was short for The Tabasco Kid. George Susce lived a full baseball life as a player and coach – his son played as well. They called George “Good Kid.”

And, of course, they called Gary Carter “Kid.” He was a good Kid, but they didn’t call him that.

6. Mickey Cochrane, 1933.
Catcher score: 155
Key statistics: .322, 15, 60, 106 walks, 157 OPS+

Thoughts: Between 1921 and 1952, there were 35 seasons where a batter had 500 or more at bats and 10 or fewer strikeouts. Mickey Cochrane had one of those seasons in 1929 – he had 514 at-bats and struck out just eight times.

Nobody has had that sort of non-strikeout season since 1952, and I wonder what this says. The theory I’ve heard most often is that men were men in those days, and they were embarrassed by strikeouts and they simply refused to whiff.

I think a more likely explanation is that pitchers in those days generally did not have the same assortment of strikeout pitches. I asked a scout friend of mine to rank the pitches that players strike out on most these days. I’m not sure he’s right, but he ranked them like so:

1. High fastball (swing and a miss).
2. Split-fingered fastball in the dirt (swing and a miss).
3. Slider breaking in on the hands (or away from the right-handed hitter).
4. Fastball painting the outside corner (looking).
5. Curveball that breaks into the zone (looking).
6. Change-up (swing and a miss).

Generally speaking, pitchers of that era did not have either pitch No. 2 or pitch No. 3. Of course, you could strike out a lot of guys with just a high fastball and huge curveball – that’s all Sandy Koufax and Bob Feller threw. But there haven’t been many who threw a fastball or a curveball like Koufax or Feller.

5. Mike Piazza, 1997
Catcher score: 156
Key statistics: .362, 40, 124, 1.070 OPS.

Thoughts: This is, bar none, the greatest offensive season a catcher has ever had. And it isn’t particularly close. Here are the Top 5 offensive catcher seasons since Deadball as ranked by runs created:

1. Mike Piazza, 1997: 149
2. Bill Dickey, 1937: 132.
3. Gabby Hartnett, 1930: 128
4. Roy Campanella, 1953: 127
5. Yogi Berra, 1950: 123

So the tough question to answer is this: How much did Mike Piazza’s defense hurt the Dodgers in 1997. On one level, it did not seem to hurt the Dodgers at all. Los Angeles had the second best ERA in the National League even though they had a pitching staff made up of Ismael Valdez, Hideo Nomo, Chan Ho Park, Pedro Astacio and Ramon Martinez.

On another level, though, Mike Piazza is quite possibly the worst throwing everyday catcher in baseball history. In fact, someone went back and ranked all the catchers going back to 1957 – the first year Retrosheet has stolen base statistics for catchers – and calculated that Mike Piazza IS the worst throwing everyday catcher at least in 50 years.

In 1997, base runners stole 112 bases on Piazza’s watch, and he was only able to throw out 43. That was actually significantly better than 1996, when Piazza only threw out 34 of 189 base runners – that’s one of the worst years ever.

So compare him to, say, Ivan Rodriguez in 1999. Only 34 base runners swiped bases against Pudge v.2.0 – that’s 78 fewer bases allowed. That equals quite a few runs. And Rodriguez threw out 41, so he created almost as many outs as Piazza in many fewer chances. Add in that Piazza led all catchers in errors (most of them throwing errors, so that’s even more bases) and he had those 10 passed balls (after leading the league two straight years), well, it’s hard to imagine that Piazza’s ability to handle pitchers made up much of that ground.

But we really don’t know. That’s the crazy thing about catcher’s defense – even after all the studies, we really don’t know much. We don’t how important it is, how much it affects pitching, how many bases are stolen off the pitcher rather than the catcher and so on. Everybody has an opinion about it, though. There are people in baseball I know who would not have put Piazza in the Top 50 list no matter how good an offensive season he had because of his defensive liabilities. And there are others I know who will believe that Piazza belongs at No. 1 – he had the best offensive season and no amount of brilliant catcher defense can make up the difference.

I probably fall in the middle somewhere. And so he’s here.

4. Gabby Hartnett, 1930
Catcher score: 158
Key statistics: .339, 37, 122, 1.034 OPS.

Thoughts: Gabby Hartnett has one of those great old time baseball stories, the kind that never seems to happen anymore.

Leo Hartnett broke his arm when he was young and so, to help it heal, his mother had him carry around a bucket of rocks. A strong arm was a big thing to the enormous Hartnett family – Fred Hartnett, the Dad, was a semi-pro catcher apparently famous for his powerful arm. And Leo’s brother Chickie supposedly had the greatest arm scouts had ever seen (he went to play ball, got homesick, and came home). I love that one of Gabby’s 13 siblings was named Chickie. I wish I knew the other Hartnett clan’s names. It’s like they had their own Snow White/dwarves thing going on.

Leo was apparently not much of a player in high school – nobody even noticed him. He kept working, though, and when he was 21 – against all odds, apparently – he was invited to a tryout with the Chicago Cubs. His mother – and remember, this was the woman who had him carrying around that bucket of stones – told him to keep his mouth shut. Leo always listened to his mother so the legend is he did not say a single word to anybody. That’s why they called him Gabby.

Two years later, he was the Cubs regular catcher. And then he was a star. And then he hit the Homer in the Gloaming. And then he was in the Hall of Fame.

He was, by accounts, the greatest defensive catcher of his time, a whiz at blocking the plate and, of course, he had that incredible arm. Bill James rated him an A+ defender using Win Shares.

This was, by far, Gabby’s biggest numbers year offensively, though 1930 was a crazy offensive year in the National League. This was the year Bill Terry hit .401, the year Hack Wilson drove in 191 runs, the year the top nine guys in the league had OPS higher than 1.000. So, in context, the numbers are not as good as they look. But with his defensive abilities mixed in, he still ranks No. 4 overall.

3. Roy Campanella, 1953.
Catcher score: 160
Key statistics: .312, 41, 142, 1.006 OPS.

Thoughts: I sometimes wonder what baseball integration would have been like had Jackie Robinson not been the first. Just about everybody believes that Robinson was the right man because of his indomitable spirit – he simply would not fail. In 1947, that was exactly what was needed. The worst possible thing would have been for the first black Major Leaguer to come up, hit .148, make errors and fold under the enormous pressure. That could have happened too. It did happen to some talented players after Robinson.

There is no sure way to know what effect a failure might have had on baseball. Maybe it would not have mattered at all – maybe someone like Bill Veeck would have signed Larry Doby anyway, and he would have succeeded, and integration would have gone on pretty much as it did. Or maybe it would have been stalled for 10 years.

Still, the first player did not have to be Jackie Robinson. Buck O’Neil firmly believed that Jackie Robinson was the right man, but he used to say that integration might have gone in a very differently direction had Satchel Paige been the first. Paige was already pretty famous throughout America. He had been written about in Time and the Saturday Evening Post. Joe DiMaggio had called him the best he ever faced. Players throughout baseball knew him and, in their own way, respected him.

So Buck believed that the players would not have taunted Paige the way they taunted Robinson. It would have been a very different experience. But, at the same time, most people back then saw Satchel Paige as belong to a whole different category – a friend of mine makes a great comparison: Many basketball fans do not respect or like women’s basketball, but almost everybody respects Pat Summitt. She’s obviously an amazing coach. It’s like she’s larger than the women’s game. If Pat Summitt went on to coach in the NBA, for instance, and she succeeded, people might not naturally take that to mean that OTHER women could coach men’s basketball. That’s how it was with Paige. Even if he had come in and been a star, that might not have opened the door as wide as Robinson did.

Roy Campanella might have been first too. That might have been interesting. Whenever you read about that time, you will read numerous quotes from people who could not stand Jackie Robinson but liked Campy. Robinson was a hard case, a proud man who fought hard and never gave in and rocked every boat he saw. He had the stuff of a pioneer. Campy was a gentler soul, funny, not as eager for a fight, proud in a different way. Jackie Robinson also said he had a little Uncle Tom in him.

Campy was undoubtedly a great player – perhaps even greater than Robinson. He won the back-to-back MVP awards. He was a great offensive and defensive catcher. He was beloved by most of his pitchers.

Martin Luther King said that change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability. We look back at integration in baseball now as something that had to happen, but that’s just not the way it was in 1947. I do believe that Jackie Robinson was the right man, right time, right place. But I wonder how baseball history would have been changed – if at all – if Campy had been first.

2. Bill Dickey, 1936
Catcher score: 161
Key statistics: .362, 22, 107, .428 OBP.

Thoughts: Seven things about Bill Dickey that may not have known:

(1) He was the only active player to play himself in “Pride of the Yankees.”
(2) He was the one who broke Carl Hubbell’s famous strikeout streak in the 1934 All-Star Game. He singled.
(3) He holds the record for most games caught in a World Series (38).
(4) He was fined $1,000 and suspended for 30 days for breaking Carl Reynolds jaw with one punch after the collided at home plate.
(5) He never played a single game at any position but catcher.
(6) His .313 career batting average ties him with Piazza for second on the all-time list among catchers (behind Cochrane).
(7) This year he struck out only 16 times in 472 plate appearances – there was something then about catchers making contact, I guess.

1. Johnny Bench, 1972
Catcher score: 162
Key statistics: .270, 40, 125, 100 walks.

Thoughts: One of my favorite all-time baseball stories – and I have absolutely no idea if it’s true – involves Johnny Bench when he was a rookie in 1968. Apparently he was catching Jim Maloney in spring training and Maloney was getting hit. Every time Bench called for the curve, Maloney would shake him off. So Bench went to the mound and said something like, “Uh, Jim, you’re fastball just isn’t popping. We should throw some curves.”

To which Maloney said something sensitive like: “(Bleep) you you (bleeping) (bleepity) (bleeper) rookie.”

Bench shrugged went behind home plate and promptly called for the curve again. Maloney shook him off. So Bench called for the fastball, Maloney threw, Bench dropped his glove and caught it barehanded.

See, now, that’s proving a point. Bench was amazing. His 1972 season is possibly the second-best offensive season for a catcher behind Piazza. But, get this: In 1972, Bench allowed 24 stolen bases. All year. And he caught the runners 31 times. He was a machine – people simply did not run on him. And that might be the best compliment of all – nobody even TRIED to run on him.

Assorted great throwing seasons for catchers:
Elston Howard, 1963: 37 attempts, 15 caught
Ivan Rodriguez, 2000: 39 attempts, 19 caught
Ivan Rodriguez, 2002: 41 attempts, 15 caught
Ivan Rodriguez, 2006: 51 attempts, 26 caught
Johhny Bench, 1972: 55 attempts, 31 caught.
Johnny Bench, 1973: 55 attempts, 27 caught.
Mike Matheny, 2001: 58 attempts, 28 caught.
Bengie Molina, 2005: 64 attempts, 20 caught

Assorted terrible throwing seasons for catchers
Mike Piazza, 1996: 189 attempts, 34 caught
Jason Varitek, 1999: 170 attempts, 46 caught
John Flaherty, 1997: 175 attempts, 50 caught
Ted Simmons, 1978: 190 attempts, 65 caught.
Pat Borders, 1992: 167 attempts, 51 caught
Mike Piazza, 2001: 147 attempts, 33 caught.
Mike Piazza, 2002: 152 attempts, 27 caught
Mike Piazza, 1999: 152 attempts, 37 caught
Darrin Fletcher, 1996: 136 attempt, 27 caught.
Jason Kendall, 2005: 123 attempts, 22 caught.
Mike Piazza 2006: 110 attempts, 13 caught

The other thing that I love about Bench is that, supposedly, he could hold six baseballs in one hand. That’s amazing. I remember once seeing the famous Sports Illustrated photograph of Andre the Giant’s hand, and he was holding a beer can in the palm of his hand. The can looked to be about the size of a quarter. That doesn’t really have anything to do with anything, but, hey, I’m all blogged out.

All Stars Then and Now: NL Edition

I think a lot about the kind of baseball fan I was at 10. More to the point, I wonder if I would be the same kind of fan if I was 10 years old today. That’s not to say that it’s a better time to be a fan today – or worse – but it’s definitely different. In 1977, there was no 24 hour sports talk on the radio, for instance. There was only one sports talk show in the world as far as I knew, and that was The Pete Franklin Show on 1100 WWWE (I can still hear the jingle: “Eleven hundred, Cleveland, 3WE!”).

Pete, you probably know, was one of the original – maybe THE original – sports shock jock. The guy ranted about everything. He hung up on people. He yelled at kids. When he disagreed with a caller (which was pretty much all the time) he would subtly make his point by saying something like, “Did the asylum loosen your straight jacket so you could make this call or did someone dial the phone for you?”

In other words, he was absolutely great, but he was on after the games, and that was way past my 10-year-old bedtime, so I didn’t hear him that much then. There was no other sports talk. There was no Internet to read up on the teams. There was no USA Today. The Indians back then, I would say, broadcast about 18 games on television. Maybe. My Dad could take me to about five games a year, if I begged.

So there were really only three or four places where I could learn about my team:

-- The radio broadcasts. That would be announcer Herb Score. I’ve written this before, but people in Cleveland called him “Herb No Score” for the obvious reason that he would sometimes go hours without giving the score of the game. It’s really funny to think about it now, but you sort of built your listening habits around it. You might tune into the game to catch a score, and if there was nobody out you would just turn off the radio and check back later because the only time Herb ever gave the score was at the end of innings or during pitching changes.

He was beautiful though. I loved him – every kid should love the radio voice that calls the games. I remember once reading an answer Herb gave to my friend Terry Pluto – Plutes had asked Herb why he didn’t discuss strategy during the game. For instance, if there were runners on first and second and nobody out in the eighth inning, tie score, Herb would never say something like, “Well, this might be a bunting situation.” Terry asked him why not, and Herb said: “That’s not my job. That’s a father’s job to tell his son.”

Sure, I know it’s sappy, but I’m sappy, and I can remember listening to the games with my Dad and him filling in the gaps, just like Herb said. Anyway, Herb was great, but he obviously wasn’t giving the full picture of the club. With Herb at the mike, you always expected Ron Pruitt to come through and Don Hood to put out the fire. And you were always surprised when they didn’t.

-- The newspaper accounts. Of course, I loved reading the newspaper. But you know what I used to love to read most of all, though? The “How They Scored” feature. Am I alone in this? I just loved going through the How They Scored, imagining the situation, visualizing Rick Manning dancing off second while Sugar Bear Blanks stood at the plate and … I am alone in this, aren’t I?

-- The Sporting News. This was the heyday of the Sporting News, back when it was the only place you could find trade rumors and minor league reports and little tidbits like, “Duane Kuiper has 12 hits in his last 43 at-bats.” Really? He does? That’s awesome! And then you would do the math (maybe) and you would find that meant Kuiper was hitting .279 in his last 43 at-bats, which really isn’t that good. But who cares! It was information. When I was 10 years old, I realize now, I was dying for good information, anything I could get, anywhere I could get it. Anywhere. Such as …

-- Baseball cards! Yes. I would spend hours looking at the back of my baseball cards, memorizing the details. For a while, I used to keep a little notebook of things I had learned scouting players through my baseball cards. I lost that notebook years ago, sadly, but I know it had entries such as:

John Lowenstein is a speedy base runner (Editor’s note: He is?). He is the only Major Leaguer born in Montana.

Charlie Spikes was voted the Tribe’s most outstanding Player in 1973 Training Camp by the news media! (Editor’s note: This was on his 1977 baseball card).

Buddy Bell almost quit baseball in 1969, but he called his Dad Gus (a former Major Leaguer!) and told him his feelings. His Dad drove 19 hours to make Buddy feel better!

Each baseball weight 5 to 51/2 ounces.

Rick Manning’s first Major League homer was an inside-the-park homer.

Ron Pruitt once played semi-pro ball in Alaska.

I have absolutely no idea how any of this was supposed to help my knowledge of the Indians or the game. But, hey, it’s all we had. It’s just different now. It’s like video games. These days, kids have baseball games so realistic you can actually get fired as manager of your own game. You can see the batter’s eyebrows move. When were kids, we played handheld video games where a blinking was supposed to represent the baseball and another blinking light represented the bat and other blinking lights represented base runners. We thought it was great. We didn’t know any better. You know why? We were stupid.

Now, a 10-year-old in Cleveland can watch every single Indians game on television. The highlights are on countless times. He (or she) can scout one of dozens of Cleveland Indians blogs – heck, he can create his own. He can listen to countless hours of talk radio chatter about Mark Shapiro (I’m pretty sure at 10 I didn’t even know who the Indians general manager was) and potential trades and Jhonny Peralta’s laser eye surgery and God knows what else. Nobody needs to wait for The Sporting News now. He can get the statistics updated instantly, and buy baseball cards that are so sharp you could cut tomatoes with them (but without the chalky gum), and get information sent directly to their cell phone (if parents allow 10 year old kids to have cell phones – I think I’m against that). Yes, it’s a great time to be a young baseball fan.

The only thing we had, I guess, was a lot more room for imagination.

OK, it’s time for the match-up, 1977 vs. today, National League.

First base: Prince Fielder vs. Steve Garvey.
My pick: Garvey.

Thoughts: It’s just too early to pick Fielder – he may very well end up being better than Garvey, he probably will, but he’s only in his second full year, and I want to give Captain America his due respect. I should tell that story again about Buck O’Neil and Prince Fielder from The Soul of Baseball: The Book because apparently I’m doing a terrible job using this blog as a promotional device. One friend sends this email: “Love the blog, but (I’m telling you this as a friend) it has to be the worst promotional blog I’ve ever seen. How are you going to sell Buck O’Neil books by looking at Yaz’s season from 1967?” Sigh. I was never any good at selling stuff.

It’s hard to imagine a player who has been slapped around more by history than Steve Garvey. Kids today might find it hard to understand, but Garvey was a superhero in 1977, he was one of the two or three most popular (and anti-popular) American athletes. I’m not sure there’s an athlete today who permeates American culture to the extent that Garvey did at that time – Garvey did game shows, he hosted talk shows, heck his WIFE at the time was relatively famous. She would become again, but for different reasons.

As a ballplayer, he seemed to have it all. Who knew about on-base percentage in 1977? Nobody. Garvey batted .300 every year, he knocked 200 hits every year (he would write “200” in his glove; apparently he had some sort of involved system for getting 200 hits in a year – a system that included, if I recall correctly, 12 bunt hits per season). He drove in 100 runs most of his prime, he hit 15 to 33 homers, and he won Gold Glove awards every year at first base. He’d steal the occasional base, score 90 runs, and give you 35 doubles or so. We thought he was invulnerable.

And then things started happening. First of all, he fathered those two kids out of wedlock. That was a major deal – Garvey was supposed to be squeaky clean. He was a Boy Scout; he wasn’t supposed to be starting his own Boy Scout troupe. The Garvey jokes were everywhere. There were the “Garvey is not my Padre” bumper stickers. I remember Pete Rose calling me over once to ask me: Did you hear about the Breeders’ Cup?”

“No,” I said.

“Mantle drank out of it, I bet on it and Garvey won it.”

(I’ve always loved that Pete Rose could tell a joke where he was a part of the punch line. The only thing cooler would be if you were playing some sort of Trivial Pursuit type game, and you asked a question where you were the answer).

Also, our focus shifted a bit. All those things Garvey did that seemed so great in 1977 – 200 hits, double-digit homers, solid number of RBIs, solid first base defense – do not seem quite so wonderful now. We like OPS now – and Garvey’s .775 OPS isn’t all that great (it’s about the same as George Hendrick, Doug DeCinces and lower than Kevin Seitzer and Dave Kingman). He really almost never walked; it’s rather stunning. He didn’t quite hit for the power you would hope for in a first baseman, even in the no-power 1970s. Garvey, perhaps more than any player of my childhood, played for the values of his time. He wanted to be a star, and so he did all the things you had to do to be a star in the 1970s. Then, the values changed.

I suppose that kind of stinks, really. Imagine you’re a car salesman, and your job as you understand it is to sell the most cars. And you sell more cars than anybody else. You are the star. You set car-selling records. And then, at the end of your career, it becomes apparent that the key is not selling the MOST cars, it’s selling the MOST EXPENSIVE cars. You look back and realize that 2/3 of the cars you sold are Ford Escorts – and now everybody thinks you weren’t much good. That’s got to hurt, no?

Anyway, I would say Garvey looked to be a sure Hall of Famer right up to 1985 – the last true Garvey year. He was 36 years old, he banged 184 more hits, hit 17 homers, drove in 84 runs, hit .281, made the All-Star Team. At that time, he had 2,441 hits and looked to be at least an even bet to get to 3,000.

But that was pretty much it. The next year, he did knocked 21 homers, but he hit just .254 – his lowest average for a full season. And it was clear that it was coming to an end. In 1987, he got only 76 at-bats, and he retired. It seemed quite possible that he might become president someday, and then the paternity suits were filed, his ex-wife wrote a vicious book about him, rumors about numerous shady dealings were whispered – and those are still whispered about Garvey now.

Then Garvey’s baseball career was re-examined. His first eligible year, he received 41 percent of the Hall of Fame vote – which isn’t bad at all for a first year guy. Most people who get that many votes their first year get into the Hall. By 2002, though, he was at 28 percent. Then 24 percent. Then 21 percent. So it goes. I’m not saying anything happened to Steve Garvey that is unfair – it’s just strange and a little sad to see someone who was so much larger than life in 1977 fall back to earth.

One other point: Had the voters chosen Pujols instead of Fielder, this would have been no contest.

Second base: Joe Morgan vs. Chase Utley
My pick: Morgan.

Thoughts: Morgan is, in many ways, the opposite of Garvey. I’m not sure many people realized just how good he was in the 1970s. Yes, everyone knew he was good – I mean, he did win back-to-back MVPs – but in retrospect he was better than that. Take 1977. He did not receive a single MVP vote in ’77. Not one. It’s pretty remarkable. I mean, there are logical reasons why he didn’t get a vote – he was coming off the back-to-back MVP years already, so people were tired of voting for him maybe. The Dodgers finally passed the Reds. His teammate George Foster hit .320 with 52 homers and 149 RBIs – numbers that seemed like an optical illusion in those no-power 1970s. He won the MVP, and the voters obviously felt like that was enough for the Reds.

Still, I do recall people thinking that Morgan had something of a down year in 1977 – that his career was winding down. But lookit: In 1977, Morgan walked 117 times, he had a .417 on-base percentage, he hit 22 homers, he stole 49 bases, he scored 113 runs, he won a Gold Glove. Sure it may have been Morgan’s third- or fourth-best season. But it’s also probably one of the 10 best all-around seasons for a second baseman ever. I just don’t think we knew that at the time.

Morgan did so many things that were not appreciated by the 1970s crowd – he didn’t (generally) hit for a high average, he didn’t get a lot of hits, he didn’t bang 30 homers, he didn’t steal 80 bases, he didn’t drive in 100 runs (well, he did once – his second MVP year).

Instead, he got on base, he stole bases at a high rate, he scored runs, he walked a ton. Joe Morgan was the best player in baseball when I was a kid, and probably by quite a lot. But I had no idea.

(We are going to try to have an entire Morgan entry without commenting on his announcing).

Chase Utley is a very good player who might win a batting title in the next few years.

Shortstop: Jose Reyes vs. Dave Concepcion
My pick: Reyes.

Thoughts: I got an email from someone about Reyes, and how he has to be the most overrated player in baseball. I can’t find the email right now, sadly, but it seems to me the point was that Reyes was a fraud who didn’t get on base, didn’t get much done, wasn’t exciting to watch, etc. I think you might have made that argument in 2005 when Reyes had the .300 on-base percentage and the 80 OPS+.

But the Reyes we’re seeing this season – with the .396 on-base percentage, the 41 steals in 52 attempts, the 130 OPS+, the guy on pace to get 210 hits, 34 doubles, 16 triples, 8 homers, 90 walks and score 116 runs – I’d take him any day. And I do love to watch him play.

Concepcion was a personal favorite of mine in 1977, the one guy on the Big Red Machine that I allowed myself, as a Clevelander, to like. He really was a dazzling defensive shortstop, one of the best ever, and he probably was cheated a little by fate. He won five Gold Gloves, which is nice, but he could have had more. He only played half a season in 1973 – and still probably should have won the award over Roger Metzger. I think Metzger might be the worst pick ever for Gold Glove shortstop – worse than Jeter. At least you understand WHY Jeter won the Gold Glove (he always makes a few high-impact plays, he’s a great hitter which influences voters even if it shouldn’t, the AL shortstop crop is pretty thin). But Roger Metzger?

Larry Bowa took the Gold Glove away from Concepcion in 1978, and Bowa was OK, steady, didn’t make many errors, but I don’t think Bowa on his best day was in Concepcion’s class as a fielder. And then in 1979, Hurricane Ozzie took over, and the Gold Glove was (rightfully) his for the next 13 years.

Anyway, because of the Gold Glove situation, I’m not sure people have ever appreciated that Concepcion was a truly magnificent defensive shortstop, better perhaps than Luis Aparicio. And I think he was a better hitter than Aparicio too. I’m not making a Hall of Fame case for him here because I’m not sure Aparicio should be in there either. But Aparicio IS in there, and I think Concepcion was better.

Third base: David Wright vs. Ron Cey
My pick: Wright, but it’s very close.

Thoughts: The National League team is so young, that it’s sort of hard to compare these guys. But it appears Wright is settling into a nice pattern -- .300 average, .380 OBP, .520 slugging, 25-30 homers, 100-plus RBIs, 20-plus stolen bases, 100 runs, a nice 137 OPS+.

Cey did just about all of those things in a much tougher hitting environment. He didn’t hit .300, but he walked 90 times a year so his on-base percentage was in the .380 range as well. He’d give you 25-30 home runs when that really meant something. He’d drive in 100 runs. He didn’t steal bases (he was the Penguin, after all), but his OPS+ for his five prime years was 134. Close. Very close.

Left field: Barry Bonds vs. Greg Luzinski
My pick: Duh

Thoughts: Barry Bonds is 42 years old. He’s beat up. He’s disliked. He’s got intense pressures weighing on him every day. If most of us think he was taking steroids and other performance enhancing drugs before, I’d say most of us also think he probably isn’t taking the stuff now. There’s too much heat now.

And yet Barry Bonds, RIGHT NOW, is having one of the greatest offensive seasons in baseball history. It’s amazing. He’s been so good the last few years, so unbelievably good (using all meanings of the word “unbelievably”), he has set such absurd standards, that I’ve actually read stories saying that Bonds is having some sort of off-year.

Look:

-- Barry Bonds has a .517 on-base percentage. You know how many players since 1900 have had an on-base percentage that high for a season? Three. Babe Ruth. Ted Williams. Barry Bonds.

-- Barry Bonds had a .614 slugging percentage. That leads the National League.

-- Bonds is hitting a homer every 11.6 at-bats. That’s better than Babe Ruth’s career average.

-- Bonds has a 200 OPS+ -- which is the same as Ty Cobb in 1912 (when he hit .409), Musial in 1948 (when he had his legendary season – he hit .376 with 46 doubles, 18 triples, 39 homers and 131 RBIs), and Dick Allen’s MVP year in 1972.

-- He also has been intentionally walked 30 times. At age 42. He’s made a mockery of this game.

Hey, how about a weird list? How about players who were intentionally walked more times than years they have lived? Sure, why not? There have been 20 seasons. One guy sort of dominates the list.

+81 -- Barry Bonds, 2004 (120 IW, 39 years old)
+31 -- Barry Bonds, 2002 (68 IW, 37 years old)
+23 -- Barry Bonds, 2003 (61 IW, 38 years old)
+15 -- Barry Bonds, 1993 (43 IW, 28 years old)
+14 -- Willie McCovey, 1969 (45 IW, 31 years old)
+11 -- Ryan Howard, 2005 (37 IW, 26 years old)
+9 -- John Olerud, 1993 (33 IW, 24 years old)
+8 -- Willie McCovey, 1970 (40 IW, 32 years old)
+6 -- Vlad Guerrero, 2002 (32 IW, 26 years old)
+5 -- Kevin Mitchell, 1989 (32 IW, 27 years old)
+5 -- Sammy Sosa, 2001 (37 IW, 32 years old)
+5 -- Barry Bonds, 1992 (32 IW, 27 years old)
+4 -- Miguel Cabrera, 2006 (27 IW, 23 years old)
+4 -- Adolfo Phillips, 1967: 29 IW (25 years old)
+2 -- Barry Bonds, 1997 (34 IW, 32 years old)
+3 -- Will Clark, 1988 (27 IW, 24 years old)
+2 -- Ken Griffey Jr., 1993 (25 IW, 23 years old)
+2 -- Albert Pujols, 2006 (28 IW, 26 years old)
+2 -- Albert Pujols, 2005 (27 IW, 25 years old)
+2 -- Frank Thomas, 1995 (29 IW, 27 years old)

I don’t know why, but I just like that list. I didn’t realize people intentionally walked Skinny Bonds as much as they did.

This, by the way, is not to downplay Greg Luzinski. He had a terrific year in 1977 – his best year, in fact. He hit .309, walked 80 times, banged 39 homers, drove in 130 runs. The Bull was up in the big leagues at 19, and he really was a good player, but his career ended at 33.

Centerfield: Carlos Beltran vs. George Foster
My pick: Don’t make do this, Part II.

Yes, George Foster played centerfield in that All-Star Game. Everybody knows how much I love Carlos – I watched the kid grow up. He’s the greatest percentage base stealer ever. He hits with power. He plays a huge center field. He struggles a bit this year, but last year he walked and got on base. And he’s doing it all in a lousy hitters’ park.

On the other hand, Foster’s 1977 season was absurd, better than anything Beltran has thrown out there yet, and Foster was almost as good in 1978. Foster’s career was hurt by two things. He did not break through with the Reds until he was 26 years old. And his career tailed off badly after he traded to the Mets. But in his prime, he was a premier player.

I suppose if I’m a manager, I take Beltran. He can play Gold Glove centerfield. Foster was a left-fielder, and a not very good one.

Right field: Ken Griffey Jr. vs. Dave Parker
My pick: Griffey Jr.

Thoughts: Would you say that Griffey is the one great player from the Steroid Era who is utterly and entirely beyond reproach on the subject? I mean, NOBODY thinks Griffey did anything with performance enhancing drugs. Heck, the guy barely worked out.

So if it’s true – if Griffey was clean while so many of the other great players of the age were not – then he really did have much of his legacy taken away from him, didn’t he? I mean, look: He’s going to reach 600 homers – something only Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron and Willie Mays had done before the Stera. He played a great centerfield – maybe not worthy of all 10 of those Gold Gloves, but awfully, awfully good. He hit for average, stole a few bases, drew some walks, and was the most popular player in baseball.

This should have been his time, right? His era. I mean, Skinny Barry was around too, but he was so surly (though not to me) and he didn’t play center, and he didn’t have that beautiful Griffey swing. He could be Ted Williams to Griffey’s DiMaggio. Or Mays to Griffey’s Mantle. At the end of the day, even with all his injuries, Griffey will probably finish his career with a .290 average, close to 3,000 hits, 650 homers, 500-plus doubles, 1800-plus RBIs – I mean, these are absurd numbers. And yet they have been overshadowed. He has been overshadowed.

Dave Parker might be in the Hall of Fame had he done anything at all from 1981-84. Those were the drug years, and he simply collapsed as a player. The average plummeted, the power plummeted, he stopped walking (he actually was beginning to walk more in the late 1970s), his defense fell apart. If you just take Dave Parker in 1977, he was fabulous, a .338 hitter, 44 doubles, 8 triples, 21 homers, 17 steals (though 19 caught stealing – yikes), 215 hits. Wow.

Catcher: Russell Martin vs. Johnny Bench
Edge: Bench.

Thoughts: What is the greatest single season for a catcher?

Ah, for that tune in tomorrow, same bat time, same bat channel. And oh by the way, please buy a book.

Final tally:
1977 NL All-Stars: 3 (Bench, Garvey, Morgan),
2006 NL All-Stars 5 (Beltran, Bonds, Griffey, Reyes, Wright).

Dotel v. Beltre: Dance Remix

Editor's note: Monday night, on a tight deadline for The Kansas City Star, I wrote a long column about one at-bat between Octavio Dotel and Adrian Beltre. It was, naturally, too long. I do that. The copy editor did an amazing job of cutting the column on a very tight deadline without taking away the essence of the column -- that really is an artform. We have great copy editors at the Star. Still, I thought the full version should run somewhere, so what better place than my blog?

This is about one at-bat, 11th inning, Royals vs. Seattle. Octavio Dotel is pitching. Adrian Beltre is hitting. The score is tied, of course, and there are Seattle runners at first and second base, a single breaks the game open, and the crowd is punchy and tired and anxious all at the same time. It has been a long game. Each team has had chances to win. One more time, the game is on the line.

Dotel and Beltre have met before. Lots of times. They have faced each other 18 times over nine seasons – 17 official at-bats – and in that time Beltre has managed only three hits, a .176 average. Beltre did hit a home run against Dotel once, on an 0-1 fastball, though that was a long time ago, way back in 2000. They were different men then. Dotel was a 26-year-old late-inning reliever for Houston trying to harness his fastball and control his emotions. Beltre was just 21, gifted beyond words, and trying to prove to everybody that he belonged in the Major Leagues.

Dotel starts off with a slider. He’s not stupid. He knows Beltre is a dead fastball hitter. In 2004, Beltre mashed 48 homers for Los Angeles. He hasn’t been nearly that intimidating since then – in fact he’s only hit 54 homers in the two and a half years after that – but everybody in baseball knows that Beltre can still turn around a fastball. The slider sweeps outside, and Beltre does not swing. Ball one.

“He’s looking for a fastball so how does he not swing at that slider?” Dotel would ask. “I’ll tell you how: It’s because this is Major League Baseball. He knows what he wants to hit. He’s a great hitter.”

Throwing a ball on the first pitch entirely changes the dynamic of an at-bat. When Dotel starts the batter off with a strike, they hit only .180 against him. When he throws a ball, it’s a different story. Dotel breathes out. He knows what’s coming next. It’s time to throw the fastball. Beltre knows it too.

“I’ve been around in the big leagues a long time,” Dotel would say. “Everybody knows what I pitch. There’s no mysteries here. Octavio Dotel throws fastballs.”

He throws the best fastball he’s got – a 94-mph fastball that he gets up a little higher in the strike zone than he would like. Beltre’s bat flashes. He still has the quick bat. He crushes the ball down the third-base line – it’s the hardest ball hit all day. But it shoots foul.

The count is 1-1.

There’s a lot for both men to think about now. Dotel just saw his fastball absolutely smashed down the line. That can’t do much for confidence. But he’s been around long enough to know that just because a guy got a good swing against his fastball doesn’t mean anything – a foul ball is just another strike. Beltre meanwhile, knows he may have just missed his pitch. One thing every hitter understands: When you’re facing a good pitcher like Dotel, you are only likely to get that one mistake pitch. You better do something with it. Beltre sent a screaming line drive foul. Not good enough.

Dotel throws the slider again on the next pitch – he doesn’t really want to challenge Beltre’s bat speed again just yet. Beltre watches it bend outside. The count is 2-1.

Here’s a dangerous pitch – Beltre is hitting .327 in his career on 2-1 pitches. He knows how to pick out the pitch he likes and drive it. Dotel tries to throw his fastball with a little bit extra, and he overthrows it just a touch, and it is outside. Dotel kicks the dirt. The count is 3-1. He’s in trouble now.

A few fans weakly chant, “Let’s go Royals.” They are tired too. The American flag blows hard toward left field – if Beltre can get the ball up into that wind it could go a long way. And hitters love 3-1 pitches. It’s the one moment when they have control – this year batters throughout Major League Baseball are hitting .348 on a 3-1 count, and they have a .648 on-base percentage.

“In this situation, you gotta have a good feeling,” Dotel would say. “You have to believe in what you got. I have a fastball. That’s what I have. And I have to believe that when I throw that fastball, I’m going to get the guy out, no matter how good he is. I have to believe that.”

Dotel rears back and throws his fastball, 94 mph. Beltre swings out of his shoes – it’s one of the most violent swings in baseball. It’s the swing you imagine Mighty Casey used in the poem. And Beltre connects. But he hits the ball straight ball into the crowd. Foul ball. Beltre bangs himself in the helmet. He missed his pitch again. Dotel steps back to the rubber and gets ready to do it again.

And now they’re on even terms. The count is full. The potential winning run is on second base. The crowd – those who have waited out 10-plus innings and more than three hours of baseball – start clapping rhythmically. There is no strategy now, no slick moves, nobody outsmarting anyone else. Dotel throws fastballs. Beltre hits them.

Dotel rears back and throws another fastball, this one with a little extra something, this one at 95 mph, and Beltre swings hard again – so hard his neck seems to snap back at contact – and again the ball spins back into the crowd.

The tension begins again. This is when baseball is at its best. The crowd claps rhythmically again. One more time, Dotel rears back, another fastball, 94 mph, only this time it seems to sweep a little bit to the left, and Beltre swings with a little less confidence. He fouls the ball down into the ground.

Now, who has the advantage? The line from baseball people is that the longer an at-bat goes on, the more likely it is that the hitter will get a hit. But something seems to shift after that last pitch. A little doubt may have crept into Beltre’s swing. Did Dotel see it? Sure he did. He’s a knockout artist. He has fanned 748 batters in just 625 innings – one of the best strikeout ratios in baseball history.

And he seems to have a little more confidence now. It’s all attitude in the moment, all confidence. “Who believes in themselves more?” Dotel says.

Dotel looks in for the sign, but there no reason to look. He has thrown four straight fastballs, and everyone knows he will throw another one. He winds up, he throws, a 94-mph fastball which bends hard to the left, and this time Beltre is overmatched. He waves at the ball. Strike three.

Beltre hits himself with the bat. Dotel waits for the next batter Jose Lopes. He strikes out Lopez too, only this time with a slider. “I have other pitches,” he says.

In the bottom half of the 11th, Kansas City’s Emil Brown hits a long sacrifice fly to centerfield that easily scores David DeJesus and give the Royals a 3-2 victory. It’s a good win. Afterward, of course, everyone gathers around Brown, and then they gather around DeJesus. Those are the heroes. But there are always lots of heroes in a baseball game.

“You know,” Dotel will say after the game, “it’s hard to hit that little ball with that little stick.”

Yaz '67

Yesterday, I wrote a little something about George Brett and how he carried the 1985 Royals to the World Series. I suggested (I suppose) that Brett may have done as much for his team in 1985 as anyone ("It's hard to fathom any one player carrying a team more than Brett did in 1985" -- yes, I'm now quoting myself, it's pathetic).

Then, two things happened. I got a six-word email from someone: “Did you just forget Carl Yastrzemski?” And in the snail-mail I got Baseball Prospectus’ excellent upcoming book called “It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over” The book is about pennant races (I believe it's coming out in August), and it’s just the good stuff you expect from Prospectus. The first chapter revolves around the amazing 1967 pennant race. It reminded me just how good Yaz was down the stretch that year – it’s unprecedented, really.

So, for fun, let’s go game-by-game down the stretch with Yaz in '67:

September 18: Red Sox 6, Detroit 5 (10 innings).

Yaz: Went 3 for 4 with a double, homer and 2 RBIs.

Key blow: With the Red Sox down 5-4 in the ninth inning, one out, Yaz banged a game-tying home run. Boston won it in the 10th when Dalton Jones homered. That victory pushed the Red Sox into a first-place tie with Minnesota. According to the Prospectus' IAOTIO, just before Yaz stepped to the plate in the ninth, Boston Globe columnist (and apparent loudmouth according to reputation) Ray Fitzgerald barked: "Right now is when an MVP should hit a home run."

September 19: Red Sox 4, Detroit 2

Yaz: Went 0 for 3 with a walk and a run scored.

Key blow: This was Yaz’s only hitless game during the streak, but even here he played a huge role. The Red Sox were down 2-1 going into the ninth inning, when Jerry Adair led off with a single against Mickey Lolich. Yaz never did much against Lolich – he hit .226 against Lolich in his career – but he worked a walk. George Scott then singled in Adair, Yaz went to third on a sacrifice bunt by Reggie Smith. Yaz scored the game winning run on a wild pitch. Boston remained in a tie with Minnesota for first (the Twins battered the Kansas City Athletics).

September 20: Red Sox 5, Cleveland 4

Yaz: Went 4 for 5 with a homer, two runs scored and an RBI.

Key blow: There were a couple of key blows, actually. With the Red Sox down 2-0 in the sixth, Yaz banged a home run off of Sudden Sam McDowell – the only homer he would ever hit off of Sudden Sam. In fact, he would only hit .173 in 73 at bats against McDowell in his career, hey, we’re talking here about one of the most unhittable left-handed pitchers in baseball history. But Yaz got three of his 12 career Sudden Sam hits on this day. The Red Sox, keyed by his home run, managed to tie the game entering the ninth.

The in the ninth, facing George Culver**, Yaz singled (thanks to a brilliant reader -- I had originally matched up Yaz with his '67 teammate Sparky Lyle. Culver is correct). He went to second on a wild pitch. He scored the game winning run on Reggie Smith’s single. Third straight game Yaz scored the game-tying or winning run.

Minnesota beat Kansas City again, so the two teams were still tied.

September 21: Red Sox 6, Cleveland 5

Yaz: Went 1 for 4 with a walk, a double and a run scored.

Key blow: There wasn’t really a key blow in this one. Yaz did drive in the Red Sox first run, but it was when he hit a fly ball that Cleveland’s Richie Scheinblum lost in the lights or something and dropped. That scored Mike Andrews – no RBI for Yaz on the error. In the sixth, Yaz walked and scored as part of a three-run Boston rally that gave the Sox a 4-0 lead. In the seventh, Boston tacked on two more – though Yastrzemski’s double did not play a role. And then they held on as Cleveland rallied to make the game close.

Minnesota beat Kansas City again – I’m sure Red Sox fans by now were ready for that never ending Athletics-Twins series to end.

September 22 (Game 1): Baltimore 10, Red Sox 0

Yaz: Went 1 for 3 with a walk.

Key blow: None. Baltimore scored two in the first – Curt Blefary’s triple being the big hit – and never looked back in the first game of a Friday doubleheader. Could you imagine a Friday doubleheader being played during a pennant race these days?

September 22 (Game 2): Red Sox 10, Baltimore 3

Yaz: Went 1 for 4 with an RBI, an intentional walk and 2 runs scored.

Key blow: Baltimore actually led this game 2-0 after three innings. But in the fourth, Yaz led off with a single to center field. He went to second on a walk to George Scott and scored on Reggie Smith’s single. And then everything fell apart for Baltimore. Luis Aparicio booted Ken Harrelson’s ground ball. One batter later, Aparicio booted Jose Santiago’s ground ball. Boston scored five and never looked back.

Minnesota smashed the Yankees 8-2 behind Jim Kaat, and the Twins had a 1/2 game lead on the Red Sox.

September 23: Baltimore 7, Red Sox 5

Yaz: Went 2 for 3 with a homer, a walk, an RBI, 2 runs scored and a stolen base.

Key blow: Well, the guy did all he could. Baltimore took an early 4-0 lead. In the fourth, Yaz singled and eventually scored on a groundout to make it 4-1. In the fifth, he came up with Boston down 4-3 and a man on base, and he crushed a long home run to give Boston a 5-4 lead. In the seventh, with Boston still leading, he singled and stole second with one out, but they could not drive him in.

And Boston pitching could not hold on. Brooks Robinson hit a two-run homer in the eighth that proved decisive. Yaz never came up again.

Minnesota finally lost, though. And the Red Sox still trailed by a 1/2 game.

September 24: Red Sox 11, Baltimore 7

Yaz; Went 1 for 4 with an RBI and a run scored.

Key blow: This one was over early – more or less. The Red Sox scored at least one run in each of the first five innings. Yaz was in the middle of two of those rallies, and he was pulled out of the game in the seventh with Boston up 7-0. Then things got a little bit screwy, Baltimore scored three runs to make a game of it. Boston scored four in the ninth, thanks in large part to a George Scott homer. But Baltimore scored four in the bottom of the ninth – thanks to five straight hits – and then Dan Osinski was finally able to slam the door shut.

The Twins beat the Yankees 9-4 to maintain their 1/2 game lead. But the Twins lost to the Angels the next day while the Red Sox were off, so it was tied up again at the top.

September 26: Cleveland 6, Red Sox 3

Yaz: Went 2 for 3 with a double, a homer, an intentional walk, a run scored and 3 RBIs.

Key blow: None. It's amzaing how, even when Boston lost, Yaz did just about all anyone could ask. With a man on second, Yaz was intentionally walked in the first inning – this is how much respect he was garnering by now – and then Luis Tiant struck out the next two batters.

In the fifth, with Cleveland ahead 3-0, Yaz doubled but George Scott could not drive him in. In the seventh, with Cleveland up 6-0, the Red Sox had two runners on and Yaz hit a three-run homer to make it a game again. But Tiant shut things down right there and Yaz did not get any more at-bats.

Minnesota beat California behind Jim Kaat and now had a full one game lead with three games to play.

September 27: Cleveland 6, Red Sox 0

Yaz: Went 1 for 3 with a walk.

Key blow: Sonny Siebert and two Indians relievers held Boston to just five hits, and the Indians scored four runs in the second to put the game on ice – Vic Davalillo’s two-run single was the decisive hit.

But the key blow on this day actually belonged to California’s Roger Repoz, whose RBI single proved the game-winner in California’s 5-1 victory over Minnesota. Had the Twins won that game they would have been up two on Boston with two games to play and would have clichéd at least a tie. Instead, the Red Sox and Twins would end up playing a two-game series in Boston for everything. And Yaz would be ready.

September 30: Red Sox 6, Minnesota 4

Yaz: Went 3 for 4 with a homer, run scored, 4 RBIs.

Key blow: I am making it sound like this was a two-team race when, as you almost certainly know, it was actually a four-team race. Detroit split a doubleheader on this day and was only a half game back. The White Sox came into this weekend with the pennant within their reach, but they got knocked out on this day by losing 4-0 to the Senators. It was the second straight day the White Sox were shut out by Washington.

Still the focus was in Boston. The Twins took a 1-0 lead in the first and had the bases loaded with just one out against Jose Santiago. Rod Carew lined out to second though, and Ted Uhlaender grounded out to end the threat.

Minnesota's Jim Kaat, who was pitching well, came out in the third becuase he heard a pop in his elbow. Jim Perry relieved him. The Twins held the lead until the fifth. Then Boston's Jerry Adair singled in a run to tie it. Yaz’s infield single gave Boston the lead. In the seventh, with Boston clinging to a 3-2 lead, Yaz decided to put the game away once and for all with a monstrous three-run homer against Jim Merritt. That did it, all right.

The Twins and Red Sox were tied with one game to play. Detroit had another doubleheader on Sunday and could still fit into the picture somewhere with a sweep.

October 1: Red Sox 5, Minnesota 3

Yaz: Went 4 for 4 with a double, a run scored and two RBIs.

Key blow: In one of the most famous games in Boston history (and Minnesota history, I guess), the Twins had a 2-0 lead going into the bottom of the sixth – Tony Oliva drove in one run, Harmon Killebrew the other. Yaz, once again, was doing everything. He singled in the first. He doubled to lead off the fourth (but was eventually doubled off on a George Scott line drive).

Then came the sixth inning against Dean Chance. Boston pitcher Jim Lonborg led off with a bunt single. I’m trying to imagine a pitcher in a big game today leading off with a bunt single. Jerry Adair singled. Dalton Jones singled to load the bases. And up came Yaz. It is probably the only time in baseball history when the BEST anyone rooting for the Twins that day could hope for was that Yaz would walk. If there was ever a time to intentionally walk someone with the bases loaded, this was it.

Instead Yaz singled, two runs scored to tie things up. Ken Harrelson’s fielder’s choice scored Jones to make it 3-2. Chance was pulled for Al Worthington.

And then it all fell apart for Minnesota. Worthington threw a wild pitch and Yaz went to third. Worthington threw ANOTHER wild pitch and Yaz scored to make it 4-2. After an out and a walk, Reggie Smith reached on Harmon Killebrew’s error, another run scored, and it was 5-2.

That was it. The Twins had a rally going in the eighth – they scored one on Bob Allison’s single – but then Allison tried to stretch that single into a double and got thrown out to end the threat.

Meanwhile in Detroit, the Tigers lost the first game of the doubleheader against the Angels – the fatal blow being a two-run homer by Don Mincher – and that ended their hopes. Boston had won. The Impossible Dream season.

In all, Yaz had hit .523 in those crucial 12 games. He hit five home runs, scored 14 runs, drove in 16, had an OPS of 1.559, and he played the crucial role in probably six of the Red Sox eight victories down the stretch.

He also won the Triple Crown that year, and it was this last stretch that did it. He came into the stretch hitting .314 – he ended up hitting .326 (15 points better than Frank Robinson). He tied Harmon Killebrew for the home run lead (44) – so those five he hit were critical. And he won the RBI title by eight over Killebrew (121-113). That year, Yaz also led the league in on-base percentage, slugging percentage, hits, total bases, times on base, extra base hits and adjusted OPS (an amazing 195).

Where does this year rank in baseball history? I think it probably has a special place. There were others who put up more impressive numbers – Ruth, Bonds, Williams, Mantle in ’56 and ’57, Musial in ’48, Hornsby, and so on and so on – but considering the place (Boston), the time (nobody was hitting in 1967), the situation (the Red Sox had not even been in a real pennant race in about 15 years), the fans hunger and the ridiculous and amazing tension of the final weeks, I think you could make a real argument that Yaz’s ’67 is a contender for the best season by any player ever.

All Stars Then and Now: AL Edition

I have this theory that the best age to be a baseball fan is 10 years old. That was my favorite baseball year. At 10, you’re already old enough to read the stories and study the box scores but not so old that you think the manager is a complete idiot. At 10, you aren’t the least bit offended by how much money the players make – in fact, you think it’s really cool that they’re millionaires. At 10, you believe the players care just as much as you do. At 10, even the players hitting .185 and the pitchers with 6.00 ERAs seem special. At 10, you can fall asleep with the radio on under your pillow.

At 10, the players are larger than life – larger than they will ever seem again – but, at the same time, they’re closer than they ever will be again. At 10 you feel sure that you will be one of them someday.

Yes, 10 is a good age. I was 10 in 1977, and so those players, those teams, that year will always be special to me. The fact that was 30 years ago both (1) depresses me to no end and yet, in a strange way, also (2) really depresses me. I had a wonderful talk with Buddy Bell about the 1977 Cleveland Indians, my favorite team ever, and he told me some things about that team and that year that would make the beginnings of an amazing book, if anyone else cared about the 1977 Cleveland Indians. I think it’s fair to say that wasn’t necessarily the best-run organization on earth. Maybe when I’m rich and famous I’ll write some coming of age book about that team sort of the way John Feinstein wrote that book about the 1978 Duke team that nobody else cared about (everybody bought that book anyway because he’s John Feinstein – and it was really pretty good).

In the meantime, though, let’s go back in time and compare this year’s All-Star starters with the 1977 All-Star team. We’ll start in the American League. I will admit, right up front, to being slightly biased toward those players from when I was 10, but we’ll try to be fair.

First base: David Ortiz vs. Rod Carew.
My pick: Carew
Thoughts: Well, it’s not a fair comparison because Ortiz is not a first baseman. He has played seven games at first base all year, and I have a scout friend who saw him a couple of those games and gave me this one word report on Ortiz’s defense: “Brutal.” Meanwhile, I’m not sure that any team would put Carew and his lack of home run power at first base these days. But he could at least play the position. He got to more balls than any first baseman of his day.

In any case, Carew in 1977 was about as locked in as any player in the last 50 years. He would end up hitting .388 with 38 doubles, 16 triples, 14 homes, 100 RBIs, 128 runs and a 178 OPS+ -- which is higher than Ortiz has ever had. He was hitting .394 at the break, and at the time I remember people being almost CERTAIN that he would hit .400. Carew really was an almost mystical figure in 1977, with his 1,001 batting stances and his magical ability to hit the ball wherever he wanted to hit it.

Papi has a little mysticism as well because of his knack for hitting in the clutch. He’s hitting .360 this year with runners in scoring position.

Second base: Placido Polanco vs. Willie Randolph
My pick: Wow, close. Let’s say Randolph.
Thoughts: I’ve already said that I wanted Polanco to get a little recognition, and I’m thrilled that he gets his All Star start. That said, it’s also true that he’s not the best second baseman in the league. Brian Roberts is a better player, and he’s a better player than Randolph was too.

But these are the picks – Polanco vs. Randolph – and while it’s very close, I think Randolph was a little better over his career. The thing that stands out about Randolph is that he found a way to get on base – his .373 on-base percentage is about 50 points higher than the average second baseman of his time. He didn’t strike out, he stole bases at a high percentage, he was a sharp player. The only thing is there were very mixed reviews about his fielding – I always thought he was pretty good, his numbers look really good (he did make errors, though), and Bill James ranked him a B+ fielder.

Shorstop: Derek Jeter vs. Rick Burleson
My pick: Uh, Jeter.
Thoughts: Obviously shortstop was more of a defensive position in 1977 – and Burleson was a good defensive shortstop, significantly better than Jeter. Burleson even hit a bit in ’77 – he ended up batting .293 with 36 doubles. But that wasn’t much offense compared to Jeter, even if you adjust for the time. This isn’t close.

One thing is that in 1977, defensive positions were more defined.

First baseman: Could be high-average, slick fielding guy. Or could be fat power hitter with soft hands.
Second baseman: Little flea who could run and field.
Shortstop: Little flea who could run and field.
Third baseman: Rocket arm guy who could hit 20 homers.
Left field: Strikeout guy with 30-homer power.
Center field: Burner who could steal 50 bases and make all the plays.
Right field: Rocket arm guy who could hit 20 homers.
Catcher: A low average hitter with a little pop who could “call a good game.”

That was it. The thing is: Everybody who played the positions had these qualities. There were no real freaks in 1977 – no 30-homer shortstops, no big RBI second basemen, no .340-hitting catchers. And so it was easy to tell your superstars because they could also do a little more – any second baseman or shortstop who could hit even a little was a star. If your center fielder had a little power in addition to those other characteristics, he was a superstar. If your catcher could hit with power, he was a superstar. And so on.

Now things are so much more confusing. You have catchers who hit, but they’re terrible catchers. You have shortstops who are among the best hitters in baseball but they can’t field a lick. You’ve got centerfielders who can’t run, power hitting second basemen who can’t turn the double play, right fielders with weak arms, it’s a baffling world. It’s probably better when players are not so narrowly defined, but it’s harder to compare them.

Third base: Alex Rodriguez vs. George Brett
My pick: Don’t make me do this.
Thoughts: OK, it’s clear that A-Rod has the better numbers and is the better overall player. Even in the context of the times, he has better numbers and is the better overall player. I am granting that right up front.

And, yes, I’m skeptical about clutch hitting – I don’t want to be one of these guys who rates one player above another because he supposedly hits better in the clutch.

And yet …

And yet, I can’t help it. Brett was SO good, so often in the big games; we are talking about the guy who hit .373 in his two World Series appearances, the guy who single-handedly beat Toronto in crucial Game 3 of the 1985 ALCS, the guy who hit three homers off of Catfish Hunter in Game 3 of the 1978 ALCS in a desperate attempt to keep his team alive, the guy who homered in the eighth inning of Game 5 of the 1976 ALCS, tying the game (and setting up Chris Chambliss’ heroics), the guy who always, always, always, seemed to come through when it mattered most. He was quite easily the best player on those Royals teams that always made the playoffs, always-always, and many years he simply would not let them lose. We’ve done this before, but take a look again at the lineup for the 1985 World Series Royals?

1B: Steve Baloni, .243/307/.477, 36 homers, 88 RBIs.
2B: Frank White, .249/.284/.414, 22 homers, 69 RBIs.
SS: Onix Concepcion, .204/.255/.245 (yikes!), 2 homers, 20 RBIs.
SS (2): Buddy Biancalana: .188/.277/.261, 1 homer, 6 RBIs
LF: Lonnie Smith: .257/.321/.366, 6 homers, 41 RBIs.
CF: Willie Wilson: .278/.316/.356, 21 triples, 87 runs.
RF: Darryl Motley: .222/.257/.413, 17 homers, 49 RBIs.
DH: Hal McRae: .259/.349/.450, 14 homers, 70 RBIs.

Look at that team. THAT team won the World Series. You don’t have a single guy with an OBP higher .350. You don’t have a single guy who hit .280. Sure, they did get good starting pitching and a great year out of Quiz in the bullpen. But, let’s say it again: THAT TEAM WON THE WORLD SERIES.

And, of course, there was George.

George Brett: .335/.436/.585, 30 homers, 112 RBIs, 108 runs, 31 intentional walks.

George that year hit .396 with runners in scoring position and two outs. He hit .545 with the bases loaded. He hit .550 with just a man on third. It’s hard to fathom any one player carrying a team more than Brett did in 1985.

Could A-Rod do that? It’s just a question. A-Rod has precisely the opposite reputation. It’s a reputation that I don’t think is fair – he’s actually a .304 lifetime hitter with runners in scoring position with a .953 OPS, plus clutch hitting, if it exists at all, is pretty wildly overstated – but it is true that A-Rod has a .104 batting average his last two playoff series too. And he does seem to think an awful lot about things when the game is on the line. And I don’t get the impression that his teammates have ultimate faith in him – it would be hard for me to imagine ARod walking into the clubhouse before Game 3 (the way Brett did) and said: “Climb on my back; I’m carrying us tonight..”

A-Rod is a better player than Brett, I think – he will (and should) be viewed as one of the best players in baseball history. Much more power. Gets on base more. Higher lifetime batting average (if you can believe that). More stolen bases. The whole thing.

But let me ask you this – and I know it’s not a fair question because we already know the result. But I’ll ask anyway: If you were manager of the 1985 Kansas City Royals, and you were told you had to win the World Series or lose your job – who would you take, George Brett or A-Rod?

RF: Vladimir Guerrero vs. Reggie Jackson
My pick: Vlad.
Thoughts: In 1969, Reggie Jackson was 23 years old and the best player in baseball. He hit .275, but he also walked 114 times. He hit 47 homers. He had a 187 ERA+. It is one of the great 23-year-old seasons in baseball history:

Top seasons for 23-year-old hitters since the Deadball era (ranked by RCAA – runs created above average):

1. Ted Williams, 1942: .356, 36, 136, 1.147 OPS
2. Albert Pujols, 2003: .359, 43, 124, 1.106 OPS
3. Arky Vaughn, 1935: .385, 19, 99, 1.098 OPS
4. Stan Musial, 1944: .347, 12, 94, .990 OPS
5. Mickey Mantle, 1955: .306, 37, 99. 1.042 OPS
6. Reggie Jackson, 1969: .275, 47, 118, 1.018 OPS
7. Frank Thomas, 1991: .318, 32, 109, 1.006 OPS
(tie). Willie Mays, 1954: .345, 41, 110, 1.078.

In fact, Reggie’s 47 homers ranks second all-time for players 23 and younger (only a 23-year-old Mark McGwire in that crazy 1987 season hit more – it’s amazing that the top two young home run hitters both played in that awful-hitting Oakland Coliseum).

Reggie was never quite that good again. He stopped walking for one thing. He never again came within five homers of 47 in a season. He played in a lousy offensive era and, for much of his career, in lousy offensive parks. This is not to downplay Reggie – he still ended up with a terrific Hall of Fame career, and he was Mr. October, and he had the candy bar and all that. But at 23, he looked like he might be even better – he looked like he might become one of the 10 best ever. And he didn’t become that.

Vlady, meanwhile, is a phenomenon. His advantages over Reggie are decisive – 60 point batting average advantage, 35 point OBP advantage, 90 point SLG advantage – and while some of that is context, his OPS+ is better also. And Guerrero has a chance this year to have his best season yet.

Centerfield: Ichiro vs. Richie Zisk(?)
My pick: Ichiro
Thoughts: In the actual 1977 game, Yaz started in center field, but I think we’ll leave Yaz in left where he belongs. And Reggie belongs in right so we’ll keep him there too. We’ll match up Zisk and Ichiro. Did you know that Zisk actually has a higher OPS+ (126) than Ichiro (121)? I didn’t. Anyway, Ichiro’s the better player.

Leftfield: Magglio Ordonez vs. Carl Yastrzemski.
My pick: Whew.
Thoughts: Depends on how you want to judge this. Yaz by 1977 was declining as a player. Magglio is absolutely mashing the ball – he’s on pace to hit 70 doubles this year. So (and I guess I should have figured this out before we started) if it’s Magglio in 2007 vs. Yaz in 1977, then it’s definitely Maggs. If it’s Yaz vs. Maggs as players in their peak, I’d take Yaz. What to do, what to do. I think the point here is probably to just pick the better player, the one you would rather have in their prime. I’ll take Yaz.

Catcher: Pudge Rodriguez vs. Pudge Fisk
My pick: Pudge.
Thoughts: But which Pudge?*

Is Ivan Rodriguez the greatest catcher ever? I think it probably comes down to three: Yogi Berra, Johnny Bench and Rodriguez. Berra was probably the most powerful hitter of the three over a whole career, though you would probably take Bench in his prime. Rodriguez has the best batting average, but he actually has the lowest on-base percentage of the three because he never walks. Bench was probably the best defensive catcher of the three and of all time, but it’s really close between him and Rodriguez. And Bench became a third baseman at 34, while Rodriguez at 35 is still the best catcher in the business. Rodriguez has lasted longer and has the best counting numbers, but he’s the only one of the three to not win multiple World Series, and while that isn’t his fault, it certainly isn’t something you want to take away from the other two. It’s very close.

I think looking over the evidence, the greatest catcher of all time is: Josh Gibson.

What a copout.

(I know there are Mike Piazza fans who want him high on this list, and Piazza was a better hitter than any of the three – he’s the best hitting catcher ever. And as I’ve said here before, I’ve had a scout friend tell me Piazza was actually a better catcher than his reputation. But, honestly, he could not have helped but be better than his reputation, right? He wasn’t good defensively at all, and I just think catcher is too unique a position to put a bad defender in the Top 3. As always, I’m willing to be convinced otherwise).

-- An early commenter pointed out that Fisk -- the original Pudge -- was much better in 1977 (.923 OPS -- 139 OPS+) than Pudge v2.0 is this year (.737 OPS, 93 OPS+). The objection is duly noted, but I'll stick with Rodriguez. It is worth pointing out that Pudge v2.0 has walked FOUR times this year.

*Clarified post to differentiate between the two Pudges.

So totaling it up, I’ve got three All Stars from 1977 – Carew, Randolph, Yaz. I’ve got four from 2007 – Jeter, Vlady, Ichiro, Pudge. And I’ve got the Brett-ARod tossup. Sigh. Let’s take Brett and make it an even 4-4.

Tomorrow: NL All-Stars, 1977 and Now.