Showing posts with label Sports. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sports. Show all posts

Monday, April 8, 2024

My 100 All-Time Favorite Oakland A's

Way back in 2011, I posted a list of my 50 Favorite Oakland Athletics of All Time.

Not long after it went live, a wonderful friend of this lightly read blog (thank you, Carrie!) sent me this shirt commemorating a great baseball name, his random placement in the rankings and my incessant need to talk about myself at any and all times. 


I had never worn the shirt to a game, so I pulled it over my enormous head and scheduled an Uber pickup from my hotel in Phoenix to the Spring Training complex in Peoria, Arizona for a Mariners v. A’s game.

I lost count of the number of comments and questions from other fans – which increased throughout the game as the innings and beers went by – but it was a wonderful afternoon under a cloudless sky spent remembering some guys with likeminded men, women and children.

The original list was long overdue for a refresh.

The criteria for inclusion, though, remains mostly unchanged. And that dovetails nicely into a hasty explanation why YOUR favorite Oakland A’s players may be higher or lower on my list. 

(1) I’m old. I turned 51 recently and I’ve been an A’s fan longer than some of you have been alive. That’s not a flex! I’ve seen some shit, son! But I go back to 1981 and the list of my favorite players is long. Some players you’ve never heard of are going to be on here and some you hold near and dear to your heart aren’t. 

(2) My fandom was first forged in the 1980s and reached its zenith during The Bash Brothers era from 1988 to 1992. As I got older, my life and identity became less and less about the A’s. So, while I enjoyed their subsequent runs of success in the ensuing decades, those teams resonated less and less with me over time. 

(3) Personality matters. You’re going to see some generationally great players ranked in the 60s or lower. You’re going to see some flash-in-the-pan players ranked in the top third or so. For me, the guys with the charisma of stir-it-first, sugar-free peanut butter don’t move the needle as much. 

(4) You can also miss me with the sporadic over-the-top “dude-bros” who’ve worn the green and gold, but I’m here for those who might have been unfairly maligned by the media, team management or the masses. False hustle aficionado? Nope. Short-term tenure, but accompanied by an interesting story? Yessir.

Settle in for a silly and subjective ride, you guys. But one that also serves as the definitive determination by your favorite A’s (f)ancestor. 

100 – Zack Gelof (2023-current) 2B: There was far too much recency bias in my original rankings, so let’s step back, take a breath and ask one fair and rational question that I totally won’t regret in 10 years: Is Zack Gelof about to be the greatest homegrown second baseman in Oakland A’s history?! IS HE?! 

99 – Dallas Braden (2007-11) SP: For a guy who didn’t miss many bats and finished his five-year career with a 26-36 record…Braden was kind of underrated! In 52 combined starts between 2009-10 – his longest stretch of consistent appearances – he posted a cumulative 5.4 bWAR! But, of course, he’s here because he decided to be legendary on Mother’s Day 2010. He’s also here because he got on the bad side of former manager Bob Geren which, like his perfect game, puts him on the right side of history. 

98 – Lawrence Butler (2023-current) OF: Since the Bash Brothers era ended more than 30 years ago, you can count the number of charismatic Black ballplayers who’ve suited up for Oakland with one hand. What was once a tradition for the franchise’s first 25 years in the Bay Area – and in the community, where the city’s Black population was as high as 47% in 1980 – has given way to cookie-cutter clubhouse conformance. Butler is a bombastic breath of fresh air whose omnipresent braids, shades and blinding smile could be BIG-big if the bat catches up to his reputation. 

97 – Jed Lowrie (2013-14, 2016-18, 2021-22) 2B: Today, you learned that Lowrie finished in the top 20 in total career plate appearances for the Oakland A’s. He slugged 205 career doubles under Stomper’s watchful eye and was a lifetime .270/.355/.420 hitter with runners in scoring position. He did this while looking like a lifetime 45-year-old but was as dependable as the pair of New Balance he surely slid on after every game. 

96 – David Justice (2002) LF: After he retired, Justice lived over in Poway – about a 10-minute drive from Stately Bootleg Manor. I’d occasionally see him at Target dutifully pushing the same rickety red shopping cart as me. Two light-skinned legends searching for that sale on cereal or shea butter. He was one of the leaders on that 20-game winning streak team and his whole vibe reminded me a lot of Carney Lansford ten years earlier – the seen-some-shit sheriff with a few bullets to his name who left it all out there at the end. 

95 – Cory Lidle (2001-02) SP: Lidle had been released, waived and snapped up in an expansion draft all before he was sent to Oakland in the Johnny Damon/Ben Grieve three-team deal. He had his two best years in Oakland, posting a combined 7.0 bWAR and etching a small, but indelible sidebar during The Streak as he went 5-0 that August with a 0.20 ERA. 

94 – Olmedo Saenz (1999-2002) 1B/3B: In a reserve role, he hit .313/.401/.514 – with several clutch hits – on the 2000 A's team that brought me back to baseball for good after the 1994 strike and those 1993-1998 Oakland teams threatened to snuff out my soul. 

93 – Glenn Hubbard (1988-89) 2B: Due to the basic cable ubiquity of TBS in the 1980s, baseball fans from coast to coast knew about the Atlanta Braves. Hubbard signed with Oakland after a mostly nondescript decade with the Fulton County Crew. He was a fun, obviously odd fit who had practically telepathic chemistry with Walt Weiss on the double play. 

92 – Mark Mulder (2000-04) SP: I thought for sure he’d made my original list of 50 seeing as how he averaged 16 wins per season with the A’s and I wasn’t aware of his crackpot Curt Schilling-esque peccadilloes at the time. Every A’s fan can tell you the story of Mulder’s sub-two-hour complete game on “Fireworks Night” that ended before the sun had set. 

91 – Mark Ellis (2002-11) 2B: All you need to know about the value of a Gold Glove award is that Ellis never won one. The A’s have had some defensive virtuosos in assorted keystone combinations over the decades, but Ellis made it look so easy. Maybe too easy for the untrained eye? He had the range to get to balls without the “Web Gems” dramatics and arm strength that ensured throws would beat the runner easily as opposed to bang-bang plays. Wish he’d been blessed with better health. Ellis only played 150+ games in a season twice. 

90 – Greg Cadaret (1987-89) RP: Traded for Rickey Henderson in June 1989, he came into his own as a lockdown reliever on the 1988 AL pennant-winning A’s holding left-handed hitters to a .198/.309/.217 slash line. The Yankees tried to make him a starter after acquiring him. It didn’t take, but he stuck around MLB as a reliever until the late 1990s. 

89 – Eric Plunk (1987-89) RP: Traded for Rickey Henderson in June 1989, he came into his own as a lockdown reliever on the 1988 AL pennant-winning A’s holding right-handed hitters to a .226/.316/.348 slash line. The Yankees tried to make him a starter after acquiring him. It didn’t take, but he stuck around MLB as a reliever until the late 1990s. 

88 – Mark Canha (2015-21) OF: He’ll be mentioned until the end of time – each and every December – when/if the A’s take someone in the Rule V Draft with variations of “…the beleaguered bottom-feeding A’s hope this pick is reminiscent of Mark Canha who played seven years in Oakland and posted a .370 OBP on three playoff teams there.” 

87 – Bobby Kielty (2004-07) OF: If A’s ownership is able to pull off this ridiculous relocation, they’ll be leaving a LOT of history behind. There are obvious names and Hall of Famers, sure, but, watching Kielty run around out there with a shock of Flaming Hot Cheetos-colored hair barely contained under his cap? I was in attendance up in Anaheim when he took a then-invincible Frankie Rodriguez deep into the right field seats in the 11th inning to win a late season game. 

86 – Ron Darling (1991-95) SP: The 1991 season was one of the most cursed in team history. Snowmobile fallout, bad free agent signings, injuries to top prospects and lingering locker room toxicity from the 1990 World Series. Darling came over midseason from Montreal and pitched well, but without much run support. He’d win 15 games the following season. He struggled after that, but always took the ball and was a dignified dude on some dumpster-quality teams. 

85 – Tom Candiotti (1998-99) SP: Every baseball list of 100 or more names needs at least one knuckleball pitcher. Candiotti lost 21 games over 1 ½ seasons in Oakland…but he won 14! Far from his late 80s/early 90s peak, he could still get his pitches to dance on some days, including a complete game win over the juggernaut 1998 Yankees in August. 

84 – Alfredo Griffin (1985-87) SS: The 1985 A’s were an odd hodgepodge of 20-somethings just a few years removed from ROY eligibility and 40-somethings already receiving AARP Magazine. Griffin was an inexplicable All-Star in 1984 (.248 OBP!), but his defense was otherworldly – equal parts whirling dervish and perfect jheri curl. 

83 – Mack “Shooty” Babitt (1981) 2B: I don’t remember a lot about the 1981 A’s, following from a few hundred miles away as an 8-year-old, but I do remember Shooty. He only played in 54 games, but the A’s were on a fair amount for that era and Shooty would pop in for intermittent prime time appearances – usually pinch-running – with the nasally cadence of Howard Cosell sounding out his full name. He never made it back to the bigs after 1981, but he appeared in, like, every third pack of 1982 Topps baseball cards I bought, so that’s something. 

82 – Bobby Witt (1992-94) SP: Witt was considered a phenom back in the mid-1980s with an unfuckwitable fastball and everyone just ignored his abominable walk numbers (154 BB in 196.2 college innings and an average of 122 BB/year in his first five MLB seasons). It’s been lost to history, but Witt got hosed out of a perfect game in June 1994 on a play at first base 16 years before Armando Galarraga. 

81 – Gio Gonzalez (2008-11) SP: It's fun to watch an obviously talented young player figure it out before your eyes. During his first two Major League seasons, Gonzalez was a tightly wound, overly emotional pitcher who'd fall apart at the first sign of any in-game adversity. He became a 2011 All Star who learned to roll with the punches and finally trust his stuff. 

80 – Chad Bradford (2001-04) RP: Every baseball list of 100 or more names needs at least one submarine pitcher. He got by on guile, deception and location that belied 85-mph stuff often proceeded by a puff of dirt from the mound when Bradford’s knuckles would get especially low. 

79 – Reggie Jackson (1967-75, 1987) RF: His best years were before my time, obviously, but, when he returned to the A’s as a free agent prior to the 1987 season (he was supposed to be joined by Vida Blue, but…alas) it marked a bit of an inflection point for the franchise. A nod to the team’s rich history would be centered as Oakland hosted the All Star Game and changed their primary uniforms. Reggie’s influence in that clubhouse lasted during the entire Bash Brothers era – for better or worse. 

78 – Kurt Suzuki (2007-13) C: My son was born nine weeks premature. Consequently, he was slow to reach most of his developmental milestones. He spent some time in occupational and speech therapy. One of his therapists picked up on J’s burgeoning obsession with baseball and the Oakland A’s; so, she helped him write out and pronounce the starting lineup from the previous evening. J struggled mightily with “Suzuki” and whenever he’d appear on screen, J would slowly sound out the surname and get frustrated when he inevitably stumbled over the syllables. The mile-wide smile when J finally got it right is why the starting catcher on some execrable Athletics teams made this list. 

77 – Jeremy Giambi (2000-02) DH: It’s been reported that Giambi never made peace with that moment in game three of the 2001 ALDS. I hope that’s not true. It’s certainly not the reason – or even A REASON – that the A’s lost that series. He was a joyous spirit on a few incredibly fun teams 20+ years ago. We’ll never forget you, dude. 

76 – Sean Doolittle (2012-17) RP: One of the most decent human beings to ever play baseball over in the East Bay. Aside from his on-field success (3.09 ERA, 36 saves in Oakland) he and his then-girlfriend, now wife Eireann Dolan were instrumental in the team pulling off its first Pride Night in 2015. 

75 – Liam Hendriks (2016-20) RP: A’s fans are funny. We’re used to players leaving as free agents. Most of the time, we’re resigned to our team’s frugal lot in life. Other times, we’re glad to see the guy go (e.g., Storm Davis, Jon Lester). But, on occasion, we love someone so much that we wish them well, congratulate them for escaping and swear upon our ancestors that his new team and their fans better take care of him. It was always a rollercoaster with Liam in the ninth, but he remains the good-est of the good guys. 

74 – Erubiel Durazo (2003-05) DH: Probably the first real “failure” during GM Billy Beane’s wheeling-and-dealing in those early “Moneyball” days. The long-pursued “white whale” wasn’t bad…he just was what he was: an on-base machine with moderate, but not mammoth pop, who had no other plus tools. His career was effectively over after a serious elbow injury that occurred as he was preparing to play first base during interleague play. There are two guys on this list who were ruined by the National League’s stupid anti-DH stance. I seethe. 

73 – Sean Manaea (2016-21) SP: There are some polarizing guys on this list and – to be sure – The Manaea Experience contains multitudes. No hitters! Comically untamed hair! Catastrophic postseason appearances! His haters always seemed to be mad that he never reached his pre-MLB potential. But, through it all, he was unfailingly pleasant, occasionally outstanding and the kind of middle-of-the-rotation presence that 30 teams will always need. 

72 – Daric Barton (2007-14) 1B: Hoo, boy…this guy. He hit .347/.429/.639 in 72 September at-bats during his debut in 2007 as a 21-year-old. He’d only play two full seasons in the next seven years. While he had his fair share of self-inflicted issues, he also had an odd mix of offensive skills (OBP, but no power and mostly middling batting averages) that elicited a disproportionate amount of invective. I liked him. He was underrated defensively and had one sneaky-good year in 2010 (5.5 bWAR). He’s also the Oakland A’s all-time leader in hits for anyone who ONLY played for the Oakland A’s. Forgive him already, friends. 

71 – Stan Javier (1986-90, 1994-95) OF: Back in the 1980s, Javier was a light-hitting fourth outfielder who could steal a base. When he returned in the mid-1990s, he posted back-to-back 3.5 bWAR seasons with a .350 OBP and 60 stolen bases in 72 attempts. There ain’t many Oakland A’s who leave the team, then, come back as better players. 

70 – Ron Gant (2001, 2003) DH: The Legend of Ron Gant is just glorious. He was a 155-lb second baseman who couldn’t field, so back in the 1980s, the Braves sent him down to the minors. He returned as a muscle-bound outfielder who hit 321 home runs with eight different teams. He only played 51 games with the A’s, but that extra-schmedium jersey unbuttoned down to his sternum is a helluva legacy. 

69 – Justin Duchscherer (2003-10) SP/RP: One of the game's most efficient and consistent middle relievers during his time. Relocated into the starting rotation in 2008 and won 10 of his 22 starts. Two-time All Star whose bouts with chronic hip injuries  and more famously, depression  made it impossible to root against him. 

68 – Scott Sanderson (1990) SP: Like Storm Davis before him, Sanderson used a truckload of run support to become a big winner in the A’s rotation. The quintessential “pitch-to-contact” guy, he only struck out 128 batters in 206 innings, but we couldn’t take our eyes off his awkward delivery (his back stayed exaggeratedly rigid in his windup) and his “slop drop” slow curveball could untie your Nikes. 

67 – John Jaha (1999-2001) DH: Crushed 35 home runs with a .970 OPS in 1999. Injuries ruined the last two years of his career, but he can be seen in the American League dugout whenever MLB Network re-airs the 1999 All Star Game starring Pedro Martinez. 

66 – Jerry Blevins (2007-13) RP: A dependable lefty who posted a lifetime 3.30 ERA in 281 games with Oakland, hardcore A’s dorks like myself would probably bore him with the same two stories if we ever met him: that 2012 game in Anaheim when he entered in the ninth with a one-run lead, no one out, runners at the corners…and got out of it or the following year – also against the Angels – when he came to bat in the bottom of the 18th inning. 

65 – Mike Moore (1989-92) SP: Notoriously s-l-o-w worker who won 66 games over four seasons in Oakland, but his first year was the most memorable. Moore made the All Star team, he started (and won) in front of the largest regular season crowd ever involving the Athletics – and I was there! He even swung the bat in game four of the 1989 World Series, driving in two runs with a double to centerfield. 

64 – Scott Hatteberg (2002-05) 1B: Thanks to the “Moneyball” movie, he was the retconned star of the 2002 team that won 20 games in a row. (That movie also did then-manager Art Howe dirty, but that’s another discussion.) Unquestionably hit the most famous regular season home run in Oakland A’s history. But was it the most important? Stay tuned. 

63 – Jason Isringhausen (1999-2001) RP: It was thought that Izzy might be most remembered for one of the last great nicknames in baseball when injuries curtailed the starting pitching careers of him and the rest of “Generation K”. Instead, he was resurrected as a closer and saved 75 games in Oakland – including the clincher on the final day of the 2000 season that won the AL West. 

62 – Matt Olson (2016-21) 1B: In a fair and just world, Olson would have spent his entire career in green and gold with a generation of kids imitating his batting stance just like they did 30 years earlier for Rickey and Jose. Simply astounding on both offense and defense, if he’s the last great first baseman in Oakland history, his was a worthy and deserving final chapter. 

61 – Jesus Luzardo (2019-21) SP/RP: The “Lizard King” deserved better. Luzardo showed flashes of what he could be, but that unfulfilled potential was never realized after landing in the doghouse following a freak injury while reacting – poorly – to a video game outcome. When he wasn’t rotting away in AAA-Las Vegas, he made sporadic appearances with the big club – including his last one on June 19, 2021, at Yankee Stadium where pitching coach Scott Emerson aired him out on the mound. You’re free, King. You’re free. 

60 – Matt Chapman (2017-21) 3B: In 2018 and 2019, Chapman posted superstar-level bWAR of 7.6 and 7.8, respectively. It’s not a stretch to say he was on a Hall of Fame trajectory. Then, in 2020, he injured his hip, needed surgery and hasn’t been the same since. Arguably, the greatest defensive player in Oakland A’s history, he was dropping jaws on a nightly basis. He’s not the biggest “what if…?” in Bay Area baseball, but he’s in the front row of the class picture. 

59 – Cristian Pache (2021) OF: A plus-plus defender in center, Pache only needed to be serviceable at the plate to be valuable. Instead, he broke camp with the team and flailed for months at the bottom of the order without any sign of adjustment until his confidence was asphyxiated. Watching Mark Kotsay give up on the expressive Pache in real time was akin to managerial malpractice. Glad he found a home in Philadelphia. 

58 – Reggie Harris (1990-91) RP: Harris was selected out of the Red Sox organization in the 1989 Rule V draft. Before he ever appeared for the A’s, respected scribes like Peter Gammons were anointing Harris as the future ace of the rotation. His reputation grew like a tall tale slung around the saloon. By the time he finally appeared for Oakland – after recovering from hepatitis(!) – he was…just a guy. But, for 18 total appearances, he was must-see TV…y’know, just in case THIS was the day he was gonna be great. 

57 – Carlos Peña (2002) 1B: One of baseball's top prospects, he was acquired in a trade with the Rangers and penciled in to replace Jason Giambi at first base. Fell out of favor with the A's faster than any player I can remember -- partially due to a genuinely fun and fascinating online diary he wrote for mlb.com. 

56 – Matt Stairs (1996-2000) OF: Averaged 28 home runs and 90 RBI from 1997 through 2000, but those are only my second favorite pair of stats involving Stairs. My favorite: 5'9", 200 lbs. To this day, he and my friend Smitty have never been seen in the same place at the same time. 

55 – Kirk Dressendorfer (1991) SP: It can be reasonably argued that pitch counts aren’t proven to prevent pitching injuries. What we DO know, though, is that the abuse of amateur pitchers from back in the day ain’t it, either. Dressendorfer was drafted in 1990 and debuted in April 1991 with a win over Seattle. His right arm burned bright, but only briefly. He threw just 29 more innings for the A’s (his only MLB season), after a collegiate career that saw him set a school record (University of Texas) for complete games. But, hey, at least the Longhorns retired his jersey. 

54 – Todd Burns (1988-91) SP/RP: With his bad mustache, puffy hair, paunchy physique and ass as big as all outdoors, Burns was a cult favorite on those late 80s teams. He came out of nowhere to fill-in as fifth starter in 1988, finishing 8-2 with a 121 ERA+. When Eck was hurt the following spring, he stepped in as occasional closer. 

53 – Ramon Hernandez (1999-2003) C: Hernandez supplanted A.J. Hinch as the starting catcher just before the 1999 All Star Break. Over 4 1/2 seasons in Oakland, Hernandez caught one of the best starting rotations in recent memory, introduced walk-off bunt into my vernacular and was a trailblazer in the field of Venezuelans with frosted tips. 

52 – Bartolo Colon (2012-13) SP: It seems silly to use statistics when talking about Bartolo, but in his age 39(!) and 40(!!) campaigns, he won 28 total games for the A’s and was the last Oakland pitcher to toss three or more shutouts in a single season. Charismatic and colorful, his career numbers are better than you think and – as we move farther away from “traditional” starting pitchers – I’ll bet you one of these Veterans’ Crony Committees someday puts him in the Hall of Fame. 

51 – Mike Gallego (1985-91, 1995) 2B: Started more than 100 games at a single position in a single season just once with Oakland (1991), but capably filled in all around the infield. He was also the last New York Yankee (1992-94) to wear #2 before Derek Jeter. Look at you about to win “trivia night” with these last two entries, son. 

50 – Barry Zito (2000-06, 2015) SP: It’s been more than 20 years and I’ll still never understand why the A’s kept Zito on turn for the final (meaningless) game of the 2002 regular season, instead of using him in Game #1 of the ALDS and ensuring the eventual AL Cy Young Award winner got two starts in the first round of the playoffs. I will never let this go. 

49 – Ramón Laureano (2018-23) OF: One of the more fascinating players from my lifetime of fandom, it took me awhile to understand his get-down. My friend Felina helped me peel back the bullshit perspectives with him and what was left was a guy who cared deeply, played hurt regularly and was an incredible teammate. His highlight-reel lasers from the outfield were just part of his story. 

48 – Miguel Tejada (1997-2003) SS: His two walk-off moments during the A's 20-game winning streak earned him an awful lot of career leeway from me. He might've finished in my top 20 if not for his terrible baserunning (and ignorance of the "obstruction" rule) during the 2003 ALDS. Anecdotally, I sure seem to remember him being the kind of player who'd show outward frustration if he struck out with the A's up by five or six runs. 

47 – Khris Davis (2016-21) DH: God as my witness, I just noticed that the dude synonymous with .247 is ranked #47 here. Khrush averaged 44 home runs/year from 2016 to 2018 and parlayed that into a contract extension (yes, from Oakland!) the following season. Just two weeks later, while playing the outfield during interleague play in Pittsburgh, he injured his hip and ribcage on an awkward catch of a foul ball and was never the same. 

46 – Eric Fox (1992-94) OF: Look…I’ll concede that Scott Hatteberg hit the most dramatic regular season home run in Oakland A’s history, but the most important was hit by Fox. It put the nail in the coffin for Minnesota’s 1992 division title hopes. If the Athletics had won it all that year, kids in the Oakland Unified School District would be getting Fox’s birthday off. 

45 – Jerry Browne (1992-93) UT: One of the unsung heroes of Oakland's 1992 division-winning team. Played six different positions, always seemed to be on base and hit .400 in the ALCS that year. During batting practice at a game in Anaheim, I screamed down to the field, "I voted for you, Governor!" He responded with a wave, a smile and a "thank you!" A true man of the people. 

44 – Dwayne Murphy (1978-87) CF: The biggest – and most embarrassing! – omission from my original list. He was one of the most underrated A’s of all time – averaging 5.7 bWAR from 1980-82. His defense was transcendent in centerfield, as he was famous for his cap flying off as he covered the endless Coliseum real estate with ease. He collided with teammate Mike Davis in April 1987, injuring his knee, then came back too soon. He was out of baseball two years later. 

43 – Chris Carter (2010-12) DH: There probably wasn’t a more anticipated 21st century A’s position player arrival than Carter. His Minor League stat lines were ree-goddam-diculous, culminating in a combined .329/.422/.570 slash between AA and AAA in 2009. Carter debuted with Oakland in August 2010, went 0 for his first 35(!!!) plate appearances and that was pretty much that. Still, his at bats were event-viewing for a minute. When he ran into one, he could hit it past the sun. 

42 – Ben Grieve (1997-2000) OF/DH: With vivid memories of the baseball card industry's speculative zenith, I've always had a soft spot for relentlessly hyped rookies. Grieve was the top prospect in all of baseball at one point and took home the 1998 AL Rookie of the Year award. He also grounded into three double plays in the time took you to read this entry. 

41 – Marcus Semien (2015-20) SS: One of the most inspiring players in the history of the franchise who turned himself into a perennial MVP candidate simply by working his ass off. The A’s made the playoffs in his final three years in Oakland and the franchise said “thank you” by offering one of the more insulting free agent contracts in recent memory. Beginning to think current A’s ownership is an embarrassment. 

40 – Tony Phillips (1982-89, 1999) IF/OF: His career 50.9 bWAR is the highest of any player who never made an All Star team. Phillips was injury-prone and there were already whispers about his personal demons, so the A’s let him walk after 1989. If they’d kept him, they’d have solved their eternally empty space at second base well into the 1990s. 

39 – Rubén Sierra (1992-95) OF: He contracted chicken pox right after he was acquired from Texas in August 1992 (for Jose Canseco) and then Oakland signed him to a prohibitive long-term deal (5 years, $28 million) after that season. In 1993, Sierra came to camp noticeably more muscle-y. With his new video game physique, his once respectable on-base skills disappeared as he swung for the fences at everything. He even feuded with then-manager Tony LaRussa and was hung with a derisive nickname that followed him the rest of his career. By the standard of today's entertaining train wrecks, he was ahead of his time. 

38 – Ron Hassey (1988-90) C: Every baseball list of 100 or more names needs at least one backup catcher with chronically bad knees. Hassey was well-known as Bob Welch’s personal catcher, but he also had a knack for clutch hits even well into his 30s. When he first arrived in Oakland, veteran pitchers preferred throwing to him over Terry Steinbach…which is why it was Hassey behind the plate on Black Saturday. 

37 – Luis Polonia (1987-89) OF: The A's handed him the keys to the leadoff spot as a rookie and for 2 1/2 years Polonia was an electrifying – albeit unpolished – offensive presence. His overall numbers in Oakland (.288/.332/.385) were roughly league average, but his speed (20 triples, 66 stolen bases) made for a refreshing contrast to the mashers in the middle of the order. Defensively? He was nicknamed “Catch-22” because – as the story goes – if you hit him 100 fly balls… 

36 – Todd Van Poppel (1991, 1993-96) SP: Obviously Van Poppel didn’t work out, but he gave a generation of A’s fans hope – for a few years – that the late 1980s salad days would last forever. 

35 – Billy Taylor (1994, 1996-99) RP: I am an unapologetic sucker for the "minor league lifer FINALLY makes the big leagues" storyline. Taylor debuted professionally in 1980. I first heard about him in the “USA Today: Baseball Weekly” publication sometime in the early 1990s. He was racking up saves for the Braves' Triple-A team, but never got the call to the show. Taylor pitched effectively as a 32-year-old rookie middle reliever for the A's in 1994. After Dennis Eckersley's departure, Taylor became the A's closer, recording 100 career saves with Oakland. 

34 – Frank Thomas (2006, 2008) DH: Left for dead by the White Sox, the future Hall of Famer signed with the A's for a relative pittance just two weeks before the start of Spring Training in 2006. Through May 20, he hit just .178/.300/.373. For the remainder of the season, he hit .302/.408/.603 and finished with 39 home runs on a division winning team. 

33 – Brent Gates (1993-96) 2B: My friend JP and I were so high on Gates that we bought 100 of his 1992 Topps Stadium Club rookie card and split 'em between us. Thrilled when he was called up in 1993, a wrist injury in 1994 pretty much scuttled his career. I still have the cards, if anyone's interested. 

32 – Willie Randolph (1990) 2B: Struggled with the A's after he was acquired midseason from the Dodgers, but I still remember how excited I was when one of my favorite players from the 1980s landed on my favorite team. 

31 – Willie McGee (1990) OF: Only 123 of his career 8,188 plate appearances were collected in Oakland. But, when the best team in baseball traded for McGee and Harold Baines on the same day, it made the 1990 World Series a formality -- in MY mind. At the time. In one of his first games with the A's, McGee scored from first base on an errant pickoff throw. For a naive teenage fan, McGee was symbolic of the win-at-all-costs dominance that would never be absent in Oakland! Never! 

30 – Rick Honeycutt (1987-93, 1995) RP: Depending on your perspective, he was either the most valuable left-handed middle reliever on one of the best teams in baseball or he was one of the accomplices in Tony LaRussa's plot to ruin baseball through bullpen micromanagement. 

29 – Gene Nelson (1987-92) RP: Depending on your perspective, he was either the most valuable right-handed middle reliever on one of the best teams in baseball or he was one of the accomplices in Tony LaRussa's plot to ruin baseball through bullpen micromanagement. 

28 – Steve Ontiveros (1985-88, 1994-95) SP, RP: A perfectly acceptable swingman for Oakland in the 1980s, he returned in the mid-1990s, won an ERA title and was an American League All Star. 

27 – Terrence Long (2000-03) OF: He might've been more reviled than Sierra by A's fans. After a promising rookie season (.288/.336/.452) he eroded almost overnight. Long bristled at a reduced role and was shipped off to San Diego after the 2003 season. I loved his left-handed swing when I first saw him – combining the Hriniak one-handed follow-through with a little hop at the end. He hit two home runs in the first game of the 2001 ALDS at Yankee Stadium. Long even offered up some unintentional comedy, wearing braids for a few seasons despite a hairline that resembled Hulk Hogan's. What's not to love?! Well, besides, how he struck out looking to end the 2003 ALDS. But, if we're fitting goat horns from that series, Long would've only been fifth or sixth in line. 

26 – Jemile Weeks (2011-13) 2B: Drafted 12th overall in the 2008 draft, Weeks debuted in 2011 with a .303/.340/.421 slash line in 437 plate appearances. To that point, he was the most electrifying player the A’s had in decades. The following season, my son Jalen and I flew up to Oakland and saw Weeks score from first base on a walk-off triple. He could take your breath away by just running. For a variety of reasons, however, he fell out of favor with management almost immediately. After 2012, he’d only play in 45 more big league games. 

25 – Rich Harden (2003-08, 2011) SP: The first time I ever bought tickets from a scalper – not on StubHub, but from a sketchy dude in the parking lot during pregame – was for Harden’s second MLB start up in Anaheim. Me and m’man Smitty saw Harden’s first MLB win that afternoon. There was no way we’d have missed it. Harden’s star-crossed career – flashing in fits and starts – was unfairly hexed. He’d only make 30+ starts in a season once but posted a bWAR of 3.0 or better three different times. Watching him warm up in the bullpen, I could hear the hiss of his fastball over the batting practice onlookers and obnoxious music roaring all around. Harden was legend. 

24 – Grant Balfour (2011-13) RP: In the summer of 2012, I took eight-year-old Jalen to a July game up in Oakland. Balfour came on late and – like Lynyrd Skynyrd inevitably performing “Freebird” – he gave the people what they wanted by shouting “FUUUCK” after his first pitch. My son was captivated. And cackling. The tiny crowd at the cavernous Coliseum got two more F-bombs as my son nearly hyperventilated with glee. 

23 – Kevin Kouzmanoff (2010-11) 3B: He developed a reputation as one of the game's nicest guys while playing here in San Diego. Kouz proved it to me on two occasions with my young son, Jalen. He signed a ball for Jalen in May 2010 up in Anaheim, insisting he come to the front of the crowd, ahead of all the pushing and shoving adults. The next year at Spring Training, Kouz signed again for Jalen while asking him about Little League, his favorite position and where he was from. Kouz struggled mightily in his time with the A's but, he's got fans for life in my household. 

22 – Coco Crisp (2010-16) CF: He was the unheralded leader of those 2012-2014 playoff teams, but between all that “Bernie Lean” tomfoolery, the weird media fixation on his afro and some of the larger personalities around him, he never really got his due for holding the clubhouse together. Apropos of nothing, I stood next to him while he was signing a ball for Jalen and dude was muscle on top of muscle. Still shorter than me, though. 

21 – Bob Welch (1988-94) SP: Won 84 games as the set-in-stone #2 starter behind Dave Stewart from 1988 to 1992. Welch was a recovering alcoholic and the media coverage wasn’t always fair to him or his struggles. But, on a team filled with rock stars, Welch was that often-anonymous everyman (even in his AL Cy Young season!) who was quietly one of the most important members of the band. 

20 – Terry Steinbach (1986-96) C: A three-time All Star, he was still – on a national level – one of the more anonymous players on those late 1980s/early 1990s A's teams. Steady and dependable both at the plate and behind it, he averaged 11 home runs per season from 1987 through 1995 – and then hit 35 in 1996, his free agent walk year. "Why does no one ever mention THAT?!", exclaimed 1996 Brady Anderson. 

19 – Jack Cust (2007-2010) DH: Yup. I had nothing but love for the big lug. It was easy to focus on his numerous shortcomings (terrible on defense, strikeouts, slow, strikeouts, struggled in the clutch, strikeouts) but he was the A's best hitter during his four-year tenure. According to the stathead site Fangraphs, Cust was worth more than $32 million in cumulative value with Oakland. He was worth slightly more to this little boy. 

18 – Walt Weiss (1987-92) SS: Won the 1988 AL Rookie of the Year award – admittedly over a more deserving Jody Reed – and hit a World Series home run in 1989 that led to this terrific call by ABC's Al Michaels ("And, of all people...!") His defense was unbelievable – as was the amount of chaw in his mouth at any given time. 

17 – Felix Jose (1988-90) OF: In the late 1980s, when the A's were minting Rookies of the Year on an annual basis, my friends and I got behind Jose in a big way. He was a colossally raw talent who went from mediocre minor leaguer to power-hitting prospect after a curious breakout at AAA-Tacoma in 1988. Showed infrequent flashes of what could've been, before being traded for Willie McGee in August 1990. 

16 – Lance Blankenship (1988-93) IF/OF: During the baseball card crazy late 1980s, Blankenship generated a bit of Rookie of the Year buzz going into 1989. He couldn't beat out the remains of Glenn Hubbard for the Opening Day second base job, but was a serviceable supersub on several A's teams that always seemed to need an injury fill-in. Posted a .393 OBP in his only season as an (almost) everyday player in 1992 and – to my eternal gratitude – ended the longest, coldest game I've ever witnessed live.** 

** – And, before you scroll to the bottom of that link, trust me on these two points: (1) 61 degrees during a night game in Oakland isn't like 61 degrees anywhere else on earth. (2) It wasn't 61 degrees when the game ended at 12:42 AM. 

15 – Eric Chavez (1998-2010) 3B: For a five-year stretch – 2000 through 2004 – he was arguably the best all-around third baseman in the game (.280/.357/.513, averaged 30 home runs per season, won four of his six consecutive Gold Glove awards). He signed a six-year, $66 million contract extension prior to the 2004 season, but a cascade of injuries – starting in 2007 – limited him to 154 combined games played over the last four years of the deal. He was a very, very good player during his peak. He was a pretty good person, too. 

14 – Tim Hudson (1999-2004) SP: He owned a smoldering mound presence that belied his relatively slight frame. Reminded me a lot of Dave Stewart in make-up, but with a shorter, more confrontational fuse. In August of his rookie year, Hudson outdueled Boston's Pedro Martinez – 1999 Pedro Martinez! In 2000, he won his 20th game on the final day of the season – a win that earned the A's the division title. He was 92-39 in Oakland and somehow escaped unscathed from rumors that he was involved in a bar fight the night before his game four start in the 2003 ALDS – a start he'd eventually leave after just one inning due to an injury. I wish we'd seen the other guy. 

13 – Yoenis Cespedes (2012-14) CF: In three all-too-brief seasons with the A’s, Cespy was a fucking force of nature. He could be fantastic and frustrating in a single inning, but capable of doing things you’d never before seen by the end of same game. Sometimes, I think the colorful, nonconformist spirit of the original Oakland Athletics died on the day he was traded. “Buttoned-up and boring” is fine. I personally prefer fun. 

12—Harold Baines (1990-92) DH: August 29, 1990, was one of my favorite days as an A's fan. Baines' acquisition from Texas was one of those "rich get richer" deals that don't happen in Oakland, anymore. On the same day, the team traded for All Star OF Willie McGee. Baines was a machine who just went out and hit every day. His class and professionalism fit right in – usually as batting order protection for Jose Canseco. Contrast! 

11 – Mark McGwire (1986-97) 1B: I wish I could've had him higher, but his monstrous 1987 rookie season kept my expectations unrealistically raised for the rest of his Athletics career. From 1988 through 1991, he hit just .233 (Hey, batting average was really all we knew back then). He was hurt for most of 1993-1994 after signing a big money contract after his terrific 1992 season. And, then he forced the A's hand into a terrible trade with St. Louis in 1997. Eric Ludwick? T.J. Matthews? Blake Stein? Come ON! 

10 – Jason Giambi (1995-2001, 2009) 1B: I can't ever remember an A's team that was so clearly carried by one player, but that was Giambi during the 2000 season. Yes, they had great pitching and a productive offense, but Giambi put that team on his back down the stretch and the A's rallied around his leadership in a way I hadn't seen before or since in Oakland. I'll forgive him for signing with the Yankees after the 2001 season, if he agrees that his 2009 return never happened. Cool? 

9 – Carney Lansford (1983-92) 3B: I can't help but think that Lansford would get slaughtered by sabermetricians if he played today. A third baseman with uninspiring power numbers and a defensive reputation that might've been exaggerated. I'm glad I could enjoy him in the context of his era. His "shaky bat" stance is one of my favorite memories of those A's teams from 25 years ago. 

8 – Tony Kemp (2020-23) 2B/LF: I got a story to tell 

7 – Mike Norris (1975-83, 1990) SP, RP: The ace of the Billy Martin-managed "BillyBall" teams of the early 1980s, Norris was my first favorite pitcher. Arm problems and illicit drugs truncated his peak, but he made an inspiring comeback after six years away from Major League Baseball in 1990. Me and Smitty were in attendance for his one and only win that season – the last of his career. 

6 – Jose Canseco (1985-92, 1997) OF: He was the first and only super-duper star to ever play for my A's. The lens that’s used to view professional athletes through the definition of modern-day fame was fitted during Canseco’s first few years in Oakland. He’s as responsible for baseball’s 1990s boom period as anyone (I know, I know…besides that.) 

5 – Dennis Eckersley (1987-95) RP: Forget the 390 career saves…the A’s have never had a closer since Eck who made you FEEL like the game was over when he entered. When that bullpen door opened and the always-bronzed right arm began tossing warm-up pitches? The end. 

4 – Dave Parker (1988-89) DH: Ten years before he came to Oakland, Parker was a cocky, five-tool threat and the best all-around player in the game. Other than some still-respectable power, there wasn't much left in the toolbox during his two years with the A's. To compensate, he increased his arrogance tenfold. His circuitous home run trots enraged opponents and Parker gloriously didn't give a damn. 

3 – Dave Henderson (1988-93) CF: No A's player conveyed his love for the game more openly than Hendu. His broad, gap-toothed smile is one my warmest memories from those late '80s/early '90s teams. Dude had TWO different supporting fan groups in the old outfield bleachers at the Coliseum. Arbitrary endpoints notwithstanding, from 1988 to 1991, his cumulative bWAR was 20.8. Jose Canseco’s was 20.2. Dave Henderson was one of one. "They don’t boo The Hendu."

2 – Dave Stewart (1987-92, 1995) SP: A four-time 20-game winner and MVP of the 1989 World Series, my favorite moment from my all-time favorite pitcher occurred in game five of the 1992 ALCS. Down 3-1 against the eventual world champion Blue Jays, Stewart, 35, turned back the clock and pitched a complete game – 139 pitches! – seven-hitter in defeating Toronto, 6-2. 20 years later – thanks to my son Jalen – I met the man. 

1 – Rickey Henderson (1979-84, 1989-95, 1998) LF: Did you REALLY scroll all the way to bottom of this 8000-word post to see who was number one? Hell is wrong with you? WE’VE COVERED THIS BEFORE.

Friday, January 22, 2021

He Had a Hammer



Henry (Hank) Aaron was the first legendary athlete I remember learning about. I don’t know how Black History Month is taught in elementary schools today, but in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the teachers made it feel like a begrudgingly obligatory lesson plan for a few fleeting afternoons. Every year, the cardboard cutouts of a lone snowflake or a “Happy New Year” sash symbolizing January on the classroom corkboard gave way to hearts and cupids for February. Over in the corner, though! – That’s where the sun-hastened aging of the images of Dr. Martin Luther King, Booker T. Washington and Harriet Tubman were stapled aloft for the umpteenth time.

Back then, there were only two or three athletes who your local school board might elevate to the exalted time-killing status of “biographical worksheet”. Althea Gibson was one because (a) she deserved it and (b) for the box she allowed teachers to check in the nascent days of the modern gender-equity movement. Henry Aaron was the other – presumably due to the recency effect over Jackie Robinson and the fact that the deification of Muhammad Ali – at least by a certain demographic – was always inversely proportional to the state of his health and the base in his voice.

Of course, Aaron’s life – as taught to us from that generation – was wildly whitewashed and distilled down to “born in Mobile, Alabama”, “played for the Braves” and “broke Babe Ruth’s home run record”. Sadly, today, even with the benefit of both societal hindsight AND actual insight from the man himself, the abhorrent racism that rained down upon him is wrongly viewed as something Aaron “ignored” or “overcame” and not the steadfast Faustian Bargain of being a black man in America.

After hearing the news of Aaron’s passing, I thought of my grandfather. When I was five-years-old, he got me one of those rickety plastic pitching “machines”. It might’ve been this one for all my memory can recollect these days. He put it together, we headed to a vacant lot – which hadn’t yet gone extinct in southern California – and before long all the neighborhood kids were playing a pick-up game. A couple of years later, I remember my grandfather watching a KTTV broadcast of his beloved Dodgers and going on and on about Houston Astros’ star-crossed fireballer J.R. Richard. My parents hated baseball, so my love for the game is mostly my grandfather’s fault.

Like Aaron, both my grandfather and father grew up under the tyrannical tenets of the Jim Crow south – America’s offspring of her Original Sin. And, neither the “National Pastime” for Aaron nor the decades of military service for my pops and grandpa were enough for large swaths of this country to consider beyond the color of their skin. (I won’t get into the unspeakable indignities my grandfather withstood from his white countrymen in the U.S. Navy, but my pops once told me that “Don’t salute no n*gger” was an acceptable unwritten rule in the Marines when he enlisted in 1968 and lasted…well, you probably don’t wanna hear about that.)

Of course, I thought about my 16-year-old son Jalen. I’ve shared his entire life with you guys – first in my old Bootleg music column from before he was born through an assortment of social media platforms today. He’s a high school junior. He’s driving. He can eat three pounds of chicken wings in a single sitting. HE WEIGHED THREE POUNDS WHEN HE WAS BORN.

He’s also a baseball player. He’s my favorite baseball player.

And, there’s a direct line from Henry Aaron to the opportunities afforded every black ballplayer who took up the fight out of obligation and chased their dream out of love and desire.

Jalen Cameron is a black baseball player.

Those opportunities are so precious, friends. And, always be mindful of who you’re entrusting with their dreams. The best advice I ever received was from another baseball dad who had a son a few years older than Jalen. “Get that boy around black baseball coaches whenever you can”, he said. “He needs to learn shit from dudes who have seen shit.”

I guess that’s why Aaron’s death has hit me so hard. The Hammer bludgeoned those ghosts of the not-so-distant-past so men like Tracy Sanders – who clubbed nearly 200 professional home runs – could impart hitting wisdom to my son since Jalen was five-years-old. And, then there’s Kennard Jones – a third-round draft pick of the Padres in 2002 – who also has worked with J at the plate and mentored him to fight to stay behind it for as long as he can, knowing that black catchers are cruelly considered anomalous.

As we approach the second year in the grip of this worldwide pandemic, I wonder – and worry – how many games my son has left to play. I wonder – and worry – about the world my wife and I are about to send J into after his baseball gear bag is inevitably buried in our backyard – a noxious disembodied essence left to haunt our neighbors’ open windows on warm summer nights. In that same world, Henry Aaron was objectively the best of humanity and endured the worst of it. When I think of my son, I know Henry’s hammer is in good hands.

Again, thank you, sir.




Friday, February 7, 2020

RBelieve! The Story of the Greatest Team That Almost Was…Until They Weren’t


It was time to go home.
 
Or, so they probably thought.

It was the sixth game of the 2014 Little League season and I was managing the Minors Division A’s. Our record was 4-2 and we had won our first four games by a combined score of 57-15. My then-10-year-old son Jalen was the starting pitcher on Opening Day and when he wasn’t pitching, he’d settled in as the team’s primary catcher. I’ve often celebrated J’s baseball IQ, but on a gray, damp Saturday morning in March, he ran us out of an inning by getting tagged out at third base on a groundball to short.

Later in the game, one of our better players – an eight-year-old who was good enough to play up with us – got caught in a rundown between first and second. After a few moments, he simply stopped running between the bags – becoming half-boy/half-badminton net – as the spherical shuttlecock sailed back and forth over his head several more times before the opposing manager – one of our families’ dearest friends – finally shrieked, “JESUS CHRIST, JUST TAG HIM”.

The ensuing 13-3 beatdown was the first time one of my teams had lost by “mercy rule”. You see, friends, in Little League, the game is over if one team is up by 10 or more runs at the end of the fourth inning. I’d been managing since 2011 and had never before felt that shameful white flag fluttering in my face.

One of my players couldn’t contain his excitement. “My mom brought donuts for after the game!”, he declared. Each insufferable prepubescent syllable was an assault on my ears and an insult to my soul. It was our second straight loss and the worst game we’d played to that point and…it was only 9:45 AM. “We have the field until 10:30 AM”, I may or may not have told the team between big-ass bites of a monstrous maple bar. “You guys get donuts when we’re done.”

For the next 45 minutes, I put the team through an impromptu practice. Parents who wanted to resume their weekends were grumbling behind me, just beyond the first base dugout. As the boys returned from a scenic 400-foot roundtrip romp from home plate to the centerfield fence – while carrying their bats above their heads with both hands – I felt the first fissures. This was all supposed to be fun, wasn’t it?

And, it was…

…until it wasn’t.

I’d never butted heads with players or parents before that season. Our team had several talented, coachable kids…except for the ones – talented or otherwise – who ignored the adults. The players’ parents were understanding and supportive…except for the ones who complained about everything from my defensive positioning to my weekday practices. Towards the end of the season, I’d even run afoul of the league president.

(That, however, was a COMPLETE misunderstanding, as the volunteer teenage umpires were struggling to maintain even C.B. Bucknor’s baseline level of incompetency. To that end, the league president called all five division managers to her house and told us to stop conveying the umpires’ awfulness through what she called our “constant argumentative harassment of minors”. HOW ELSE WILL THEY LEARN THO)

Like every other adult-driven administrative decision in Little League, selecting the managers for All-Star season is unnecessarily political and exists only to reward self-absorbed pomposity. There were three of us in contention for the gig and we’d have to state our case in front of the Little League board in late spring. All three of us were actually on the board, so the politics effectively cancelled each other out. And, with “self-absorbed pomposity” as the de facto tiebreaker?

Now…one of the few sacred rules of Little League Baseball is that managers are expressly forbidden from revealing ANY details regarding preseason player drafts or postseason All-Star selections. So, before I do, you guys have GOT to promise to keep this between you, me and this lightly-read blog. Cool? Cool.

The five division managers gathered at the league president’s home around Memorial Day. Each manager may nominate up to three players from their team. From that pool, the managers vote via secret ballot to select an initial All-Star roster of 12. After 12 players are selected, the All-Star manager may select up to three more players at his sole discretion.

 
My nominees were an easy call – and only kinda-sorta controversial. Jalen hit .500 during the regular season, struck out only five times all year, led the team in both plate appearances and innings pitched and possibly nepotism. Tyler was our slick-fielding shortstop who batted .375 and covered more earth than what’s left of the ozone layer. Finally, there was Ty…who happened to be moving to Virginia after the first game on the All-Star schedule.

I needed Ty on this team even if it was only for one game. Of my three nominees, he was the most natural athlete – playing centerfield and pitching, primarily. His regular season numbers made him deserving on merit, but word had gotten out that he was moving away. The year before, there was another particularly talented military kid whose family was shipping out to the east coast. When one of the managers deliberately leaked that he was moving away – which was against Little League rules – that opened up the 12th and final slot for that manager’s son.

And, with a year of illicit manipulation already under my belt, I’d have to ensure Ty didn’t fall off the ballot from lack of support. After more than a dozen votes, there were still one or two roster spots left. Another manager surveyed the list of remaining nominees and asked, “Isn’t Ty moving away soon?”

“He’ll be here for All Stars”, I replied – emphasis on 80% of the second syllable. If any other manager in that room knew the truth, they kept quiet. Maybe they wanted to give Ty one last game with his buddies. Maybe they loved his family as much as my wife and I did. Maybe they knew that I held their kids’ playing time in the palm of my hand.

All Stars were formally announced on the morning of June 1 and one of the local traditions is for the manager and coaches to drive around the neighborhood the night before, placing yard signs out announcing the good news for each player. Little League rules dictate that this cannot be done before midnight, which is how one of my coaches, Andy, was nearly shot by a father who saw a shadowy figure on his property and promptly pulled out a pistol.



My other coach was a guy named Vince. He coached in All Stars the year before and inadvertently participated in one of my favorite Jalen pictures ever (above). Both Andy and Vince had kids on our team. Andy’s son Colin was a slight second baseman who batted leadoff. His then-squeaky voice was famous among the moms and dads – and will come into play later. Vince’s son was also named Vince – a soft-spoken old soul who everyone called “Pops”.

We’d have three weeks of practices before the festivities of “All Star Saturday” and our first game. I mention the former not just for the pomp and circumstance of player introductions, the presentation of All Star pins or the old popsicles from the snack bar sold at a 750% markup. I had my eyes on the District Skills Competition – a variation of the age-old “follow the ball” drill in which each team throws the ball from home plate to third base to second base to first base and back home with each successful catch counting as a point. Most points in 60 seconds wins.

Our practices were…incredibly fun, actually. Andy and Vince were terrific instructors, their attention to detail only matched by their enthusiasm. While they weren’t officially coaches, two or three other dads set up a hitting station off to the side and worked to ensure that every kid was engaged. I mostly clapped my hands and stayed out of the way – basically, a butterscotch shade of Jason Garrett.

As All Star Saturday dawned, I just…had a feeling about this team. Our practices were loose. The boys were building chemistry and camaraderie. Maybe it was the sight of their psychedelic orange camouflage uniforms that was eliciting my hallucinations, but I believed in these boys. They were flawless in the skills competition. And, since coaches weren’t allowed on the field, I stood behind the chain-link fence channeling a traditional African folk dance. Our squad held off a pair of late challenges and won the Skills Competition Championship for the first time in our Little League’s history.

With our first game right around the corner, it was time for an uncomfortable conversation. We were carrying 14 players, which meant that five of these boys wouldn’t be starting. One of them – Ben – was a solid little pitcher who’d suffered an unfortunate foot injury a few weeks earlier and would be unavailable for most of All-Stars, anyway. Another – Justin – was openly more interested in a club soccer tournament that ran concurrent to Little League’s postseason. This allowed me to anticipate 40% fewer tears. Thankfully, they all took the news well and I was relieved to know that playing time – the source of most conflict between youth sports coaches and players’ parents – wouldn’t be a problem on MY team. Nope. No, sir. Not. At. All.

Game #1: Rancho Bernardo vs. Rancho Santa Fe – It was a 30-minute drive to Encinitas for the first game. It was a 90-minute drive for my wife, because our son left his catcher’s gear bag at home and she graciously agreed to retrieve it. So, with my blood pressure good n’ elevated, I posted the starting lineup on the dugout wall. No sooner had I turned around to begin nervously pacing when one of my players burst into tears. It was one of the five boys who stoically reacted to the “uncomfortable conversation” in the paragraph DIRECTLY ABOVE THIS ONE. And, this is why Coach Morris Buttermaker invented the boilermaker.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before, but the RSF team was managed by former Major Leaguer Mike Sweeney. In his 16-year career he batted .297 with 215 home runs and – are you sitting down? – his son was on the team. RSF’s roster also included the sons of erstwhile Seattle Mariner Bret Boone, NFL first-round draft pick Rick Mirer and the great-grandson of ageless Phillies arm Jamie Moyer – it was a middle school Murderers’ Row.

Sweeney, it should be said, might be the nicest man you’ll ever meet. My son remembered him from an otherwise execrable Oakland A’s team in 2008. I introduced him to Jalen and Sweeney couldn’t have been more gracious. Moments later, the home plate umpire had some fun with me, “Now, I know that the two of you have combined to hit 200 home runs in the Majors, but I’M the man in charge. HAW!” Sweeney put his hand on my shoulder and said, “None of that matters today. I can tell we’ve got our hands full.” Was he patronizing me? Was he trying to psych me out? Was it probably neither? “We’ll see about THAT”, I thought to myself. Wait, what?

Our starting pitcher was a burly, but baby-faced kid named Daniel. He had a fierce lil’ fastball, but also threw a mysterious off-speed “Frisbee pitch” that could spit-shine your spats. He labored through three innings, but left with the lead – doggedly retiring the last two batters on guile alone. I brought in CJ to start the fourth inning. He was going to be my starting pitcher two days later, so he could only throw 35 pitches to come back on one day of rest. He pitched well for 1 2/3 innings, but got into trouble with two outs in the fifth, loading the bases.

I called for Camden – an all-around awesome athlete who, a couple of years later, would survive a horrific car crash, then play quarterback and shortstop for our local high school. Up 8-5, he threw one pitch. The next sounds I heard were the sweet shrieks from our second baseman, Colin, “BALL, BALL, BALL, BALL, BALL!” Camden pitched a perfect final inning for the win.

Game #2: Rancho Bernardo vs. Valley Center – Our second game might’ve been decided in warm-ups and maybe I should’ve listened to my coach, Vince. “They’re shook, man”, he said to me before the game. “Who’s shook?”, I asked. “Valley Center”, he replied. “Look at their faces while we’re taking warm-ups. They ain’t never seen nothing like us.” I was skeptical…and ESPECIALLY superstitious. “Man, don’t jinx this shit.”



We jumped out to a 4-0 lead in the first inning, capped by Jalen’s two-run single (above). We got some late insurance when pinch-hitter Austin – who I just this moment realized is strong enough to be nicknamed “oxen” – drove in our fifth run with a booming double off the outfield wall. CJ, meanwhile, was single-handedly incinerating the Valley Center kids. As he reached his age-mandated 75-pitch limit, he’d gone 4 2/3 innings, struck out 11 and hadn’t given up a hit.

I went to Bennett for the final four outs. He’s the son of two D-I college athletes and exudes confidence out the wazoo. I managed him the year before and he came to the plate in a tense, late-inning situation. “Relax. Don’t be nervous. Get a good swing”, I advised. “Coach, I’m never nervous.” Moments later, he tripled off the wall before scoring the winning run one batter later.

Bennett quickly got the first out, but walked the leadoff hitter in the top of the sixth. Down 5-0, the runner tried to steal second base only to get gunned down by Jalen. The cacophony of incredulity from the Valley Center parents was such a gloriously profane (“Why the f ck are we stealing down FIVE runs?!”) moment. Three outs later, we’d thrown a combined no-hitter.

Game #3: Rancho Bernardo vs. Escondido National – After all these years, I look back at this game as the turning point for our tournament run. Oh, we won 10-0. Mercy-ruled them, even. But, we played particularly sloppily. We were also down a few players by this point as Ty had moved back east, Austin was out of town on vacation, Ben was still injured and Justin left to play soccer. Our next game – the very next day – was against the consensus best team in the district in the tournament semifinals. With almost six years of hindsight, perhaps I should’ve proposed a pre-dawn practice. Oh, relax, I’m only 70-percent serious.

Game #4: Rancho Bernardo vs. Encinitas – As a spectator sport, baseball moves at a languid – occasionally glacial – pace. It’s arguably the game’s most romantic characteristic. But, don’t be fooled. Like, the hippo, the white rhino or the New England Patriots’ whi…, er, wide receiver corps, it’s got that “deceptive speed”. And, the sport is never swifter than when bad sh t happens, friends.

For a few brief moments, we held a 2-0 lead with runners on the corners and one out. One pitch later, both runners were inexplicably thrown out during the same play. In the bottom of the first, Encinitas hung a four-spot on us. It was the first time we’d trailed in the tournament. Our boys battled like hell to keep the score 4-2 through four innings. I could tell they were feeding off of my mistake-free leadership and that alone would steer them to…

Home plate umpire: “Can I have word, coach?”

Me: “What’s up?”

Ump: “You didn’t announce that defensive replacement in left field.”

Me: “…”

Ump: “In accordance with rule number ‘1-dot-1-dot-dumbass rule’…”

We only had 10 players at the start of the game and my failure to make a royal replacement proclamation to his goddam majesty meant we were down to nine for the rest of the game. The timing couldn’t have been more terrible, too. With the smaller roster, I was able to interchange the speedy Johnny with the more bat-centric Charlie. More importantly, they were finally getting playing time after riding the pine for the first week. The look on his face when I had to pull [REDACTED] off the field and explain my mistake was bad enough. “So, I’m not even going to get to bat?”, he asked.

Yeah…that was worse.

Remember “Homer at the Bat”? That seminal episode of The Simpsons in which nuclear power plant owner C. Montgomery Burns hired nine ringers to win the company softball championship? At one point, Mr. Burns mused:

“There’s no way I can lose this bet…unless, of course, my nine all-stars fall victim to nine separate misfortunes. But, that will never happen. Three misfortunes? That’s possible. Seven misfortunes? There’s an outside chance. But, NINE misfortunes? I’d like to see that!”

In the time it took you to read that reheated – and TBG-obligatory – Simpsons quote, Jalen went down with an injury. While catching, he took a foul ball off his collarbone. He’d sneakily had a crazy-productive tournament, throwing out 3 of 4 attempted base stealers and leading the team in RBI. Now, he was flat on his back, writhing in pain and grimacing straight into the face of a cloudless sky. Before I even asked about his health, there was something slightly more important to tell him: “I f cked up a substitution, son. We’re down to nine players.” He opened his eyes slightly, still holding his shoulder and said bluntly, “Oh, COME ON, dad”. J stayed in the game.

By the top of the sixth, we were trailing 10-2 and one out away from our first loss. Jalen Cameron – the kid with one clavicle – was due up. “It REALLY hurts to swing the bat, dad”, J said. “We’re down by eight runs, son", I responded. "You don’t need to swing. We’ll be done soon enough.”

So, of COURSE, he walked on four pitches.

Game #5: Rancho Bernardo vs. Carmel Mountain Ranch – It was a double-elimination tournament, so we dropped into the losers’ bracket with a chance to play ourselves into the championship game. The year prior, we eliminated CMR on a scorchingly-hot June afternoon. On this day, we took the field on a cool, gloomy evening in July that was virtually dirge-worthy. And, right on cue, CMR helpfully finished our epitaph. We trailed 6-0 after the first inning. As we headed to the fourth inning, we were down 10-0.

Down to our last out, Jalen came to the plate. His shoulder remained sore, but his pride was in the pink. He swung at the first pitch and hit a harmless pop-up that plopped helplessly between the first and second basemen. The official scorekeeper kindly exhumed our corpse to gift us with our first and only hit. I pulled back the next batter and sent Ben up to pinch-hit. He spent the last month-plus dutifully rooting for his teammates at practices and in the dugout during games while his foot was in a cast and, at last, he was out of it. He struck out to end the game and our season.

There were tears among these young men. As I held court with one of my comically-long postgame soirees, I made sure I told the team how proud they’d made their families, coaches and community. The kids soon scattered to finally start their summer vacations. After signing the scorecard, I sat down in the dugout next to my son who was solemnly packing his gear.

Jalen: “Well, THAT sucked.”

Me: “You saying you didn’t have ANY fun during that ride?”

Jalen: “Yeah…when we were WINNING.”

Momentum is a myth. It’s there until it isn’t. And, when you lose it, you might never find it again. Hell, the tighter you grip it, the easier it’ll slip through your fingers. My advice? Don’t ever think about it. Just enjoy it while you can.

J picked up the studio apartment that stored his bats, gloves and catcher’s armor and rolled off towards his mom. I stole a few more moments looking out at the field before joining my family.

It was time to go home.



Top row: Coach Andy, Camden, Charlie, CJ, Daniel, Ben, Justin, Coach Aaron, Jalen, Bennett, Coach Vince; Bottom row: Johnny, Tyler, Colin, Ty, Pops, Austin


Me and Jalen at 2014 All Star Saturday
 
 
 
Me and Jalen at the end of the 2019 RBHS season