The Hardball Times -- Arne Christensen

Standouts in the career sub-70 home run ranks

Arne Christensen — 2012-11-27T07:43:15+00:00

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The Johnson behind the Johnson Effect

Arne Christensen — 2011-11-08T05:06:15+00:00

A couple years ago I heard from Bryan Johnson, one of the earliest mainstream journalists to write about sabermetrics, in Toronto's Globe and Mail in the early-to-mid-1980s, in the way of his comments on some excerpts from those columns that I'd posted on my baseball history blog.

Johnson is credited by Bill James with discovering the Johnson Effect: the tendency of a team to revert back to the win-loss total one would expect from its ratio of runs scored to runs allowed. Here's James' explanation of it from 1985:

The Johnson effect states that when a team wins more games than it could be expected to win in view of the number of runs scored and runs allowed ... that team will tend to decline in the following season. When a team wins significantly fewer games than could be expected in view of its runs scored and runs allowed ... that team will tend to improve in the following season.

Since Johnson was apparently the first journalist to write regularly about advanced statistics, Bill James' ideas, sabermetrics and such, I've since taken the opportunity to ask him some questions about those days to find out about the infancy of sabermetrics.

I came across your name and the articles you wrote discussing sabermetrics for the Globe and Mail when I went looking through a database for the earliest articles that I could find about sabermetrics. Obviously there were a lot of baseball columnists in the early 1980s, but do you know if anyone else in the newspapers and magazines was writing about sabermetrics back then?

Not as far as I know. Quite the opposite. I seemed to be in a constant fight with other writers, columnists, etc., both within my own paper, and versus competitors. You saw, I think, how the Toronto Sun declared Alfredo Griffin the Jays' "MVP"—after I pointed out his atrocious OBP, and pretty much demanded that the Jays bring up Tony Fernandez. That was the basic tenor of the times. The response was very negative, very hostile. New ideas seemed quite threatening to baseball writers, for reasons that weren't clear then, or now. The letters to the editor were more of a mixed bag, pro and con.

I remember, in 1985, arguing with a current ESPN guy (Tim Kurkjian, then a Dallas writer) in the press box in Kansas City, that George Brett deserved the MVP much more than Don Mattingly. But his response was utter dismissal, since Mattingly had far more RBIs. Of course, Mattingly had Ricky Henderson leading off in front of him; Brett had Willie Wilson. But, in those days, pre-internet, with very little access to detailed stats, it was harder to prove the case. And nobody realized—or cared—that Henderson's OBP was vastly higher than Wilson's. To most baseball writers, Henderson and Wilson seemed very comparable players. And nobody had a clue that Brett's RC/27 and OPS totally eclipsed Mattingly's. Those were ideas from outer space, basically.

In retrospect, obviously, the 1985 MVP was one of the worst injustices in baseball history.

In 1983 and 1984 you were the Toronto paper's drama critic and a foreign correspondent, right? It seems like your sabermetrics columns were an ad hoc thing, where you went to the paper's editor and asked if you could write about baseball too. Did that reflect the emergent nature of sabermetrics in those days, that it was mostly made up of people doing things on their own initiative?

Yes, I definitely had a 'thing" about not being a baseball writer. I was ambitious, and wanted to be considered a "serious" journalist. So, in a sense, I was just kind of playing with the column. My real jobs were very different, but I was given time to write the once-a-week Inside Baseball column. So, obviously, my own sports department viewed me as a complete outsider, a dilettante with goofy ideas.

But that was nice for me, because I thrived on the hostility, and struck a pose of haughty dismissal, to some extent. I thought it worked well in the column format: an "outsider" writing about "inside baseball." And realistically, hell, the response I got was often so absurd, so emotional, that it was easier to mock it than take it seriously. Remember, in the beginning, sabermetrics was up against "baseball Neanderthal" thinking, basically.

In the early '80s, was sabermetrics basically Bill James spearheading a movement, or was there a large community of people shaping the new way of looking at baseball statistically?

It was a very small community. James essentially invented it, at least as far as I was aware. But guys like Pete Palmer and a few others quickly jumped in with a lot of their own ideas. The funny thing was that the mainstream stat people, like Elias, were very hostile to us. They felt they "owned" the stats, and didn't like a bunch of newcomers writing about them, much less reinventing them. There were a lot of odd little battles, just trying to get our hands on more detailed statistics. Remember, this was all pre-internet, so it had to be sent by mail, etc. There were a lot of outright refusals. But I must say the Blue Jays, and their media people, were always as helpful as they could be. A lot of the stats I needed just weren't readily available then.

I've heard that James started selling his Abstracts through small ads in the Village Voice or some other New York City publication. How did you first hear his name? And how did you communicate with him and other sabermetrics people in the early '80s?

It might seem odd now, but Bill was very easy to contact and communicate with in those days. His address was right on the Baseball Abstract, and there weren't very many copies printed. Also, I was the Globe's Peking correspondent, when I first wrote to him, so I guess he must have been struck by the novelty—absurdity, almost—of our situation. I was isolated halfway around the world, hungry for baseball, with a couple of dog-eared copies of the Abstract for company on cold winter nights. Imagine how he must have felt, getting letters from China.

He was very, very generous with his time and ideas. And generous also, with giving credit to others. He was the one who dubbed one theory 'The Johnson Effect'—giving me the credit—when he actually did all the research which proved something I had only postulated in a column. I have nothing but praise for Bill James. He was only interested in baseball, and understanding it...not in the fame which eventually came his way.

As for other guys, like Pete Palmer, all I had to do was call them up. I mean, nobody else in a real newspaper was picking their brains, and asking for their research. They were delighted to get the recognition. Pete was in Boston, but the Boston papers didn't seem much interested in his work.

How did I stumble across my first Abstract? I barely recall. But as soon as I laid eyes on it, I made damn sure to be on the mailing list for every issue. Aside from everything else, Bill James was just a wonderful writer. I couldn't wait to read his stuff.

What do you think was the first key milestone for when sabermetrics became something fairly mainstream in baseball circles?

The other questions were easy. This one...hmmm? I think it's best if I only speak for Toronto, and the communities there: the baseball community, and the broader one, of fans. I think the combination of guys like Bill James and myself hammering away on one side, then the "establishment" writers getting their backs up, and hammering back at us...that really attracted a lot of attention in Toronto. It created a controversy.

I used to drive home from work and listen to the sports call-in shows on radio, which were crammed with angry, opinionated callers. "How can he say that stuff about Griff? (Alfredo Griffin), etc." I would sometimes make a cup of coffee when I got home, and call in, too...just to stir the pot a bit. It was fun, and it came at a time when baseball was really taking off in Toronto. The Jays were on the verge of being a very good ballclub.

Was there any sense at the time of the impact sabermetrics could/would have on baseball?

Yes and no. I always felt that there was no way they could cram the toothpaste back into the tube, after we had exposed the absurdity of a lot of stats, exploded so many baseball myths. But I think most people just assumed it was a passing phase. Even now, a lot of the commentators are pretty dismissive of sabermetrics.

In the beginning, the general feeling was that we were nerds, or something, over-interested in arcane and meaningless stats. The truth is that I, personally—(and James has said it several times, too)—had almost zero interest in the stats themselves. I'm not the kind of guy who would win a trivia contest. The interest came from trying to understand baseball; more particularly, trying to understand which players were really good, and which ones only seemed to be good. That was utterly fascinating to me; and still is.

In Toronto, the Blue Jays—they were starting a kind of decade-long dynasty in '83, '84: was there a sense of them being a team on the rise? Were people in Toronto paying much attention to baseball at the time, or did the fan base develop later on?

Actually, Canada had a long history of baseball, and a lot of diehard fans, even before the Jays were created. Babe Ruth hit his only minor league home run in Toronto. And I used to listen to the Toronto Maple Leafs (Triple-A, International League) on the radio all the time, as I was growing up. I was from Niagara, so I'd go to Buffalo to see the Bisons and Leafs play doubleheaders in the old War Memorial Stadium, I think it was called. And our local Niagara Falls—(Ontario, not New York)—radio station carried all the Detroit Tigers games. It was the closest big-league team. I grew up on Kaline, Cash and Colavito, and Ernie Harwell, of course.

I think most Americans have an idea that Canadians don't like, or know much, about baseball. But that's certainly a myth, in my experience. Heck, Sal (The Barber) Maglie taught me to throw a curveball, when I was a kid, at my father's company picnic. I grew up with a Wiffle Ball in my hand. Baseball was always my favorite sport. For me, the Jays were Johnny-come-Latelies, in a way. I was a Tiger fan in the AL, and Dodgers in the NL....long before there was any notion of the Blue Jays.

So, when they arrived, a lot of serious ballfans just breathed a big sigh of relief: big-league ball, at last! And then the franchise was successful, so a lot of the hockey fans, etc. climbed on board. Some sportswriters used to actually call the obsessive Jays fans "baseball snobs," because we all felt that baseball was far beyond any other sport. I'm still guilty as charged; definitely a baseball snob.

What is it like now, as a teacher in the Philippines, to be a dedicated baseball fan? Obviously the internet shrinks distances, but there's still hardly any baseball around where you live, right?

It's perfect, really. The 12-hour time difference means you wake up, make coffee, and watch a ballgame over breakfast. Meanwhile, my computer is on in the background, churning out up-to-date scores. I can even click on the ESPN stats page and switch to sabermetric stats, rank all the players by RC/27 or component ERA, or whatever. Pretty hard to beat that.

I have a friend here who's ex-US military, with access to satellite TV and the military channel. If I really need to see a game that's not on regular TV, I can go over to his place. Several local bars show satellite games live, every morning.

And we've got something here on cable that you cannot imagine: a Japanese channel which shows MLB games in Japanese—a lot of games, sometimes two a day. I assume you realize that the Japanese are THE most obsessive baseball fans anywhere in the world. It's a privilege to see how they cover a game. They're totally into it, on every level.

Nope, I don't actually speak Japanese. But I've watched it so long that I know most of the baseball terminology now. And it's fascinating to see the major leagues from their perspective. Japan is baseball's true World Champion now, after all. They won the actual "world" series.

So, these days, with modern technology, the Philippines is an ideal spot to be a ball fan.

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THT talks with Jack Perconte

Arne Christensen — 2011-09-14T09:22:15+00:00

Jack Perconte had several solid seasons playing second base for the Seattle Mariners in the mid-1980s, and several more seasons of big league baseball in the '80s. He also starred with the Dodgers' AAA farm team, the Albuquerque Dukes, from 1979 through 1981, including their 94-38 1981 squad, for which Perconte hit .346 and stole 45 bases.

Perconte returned to Albuquerque in 1987 for his last season of pro ball, then opened Jack Perconte's Sports Academy in Naperville, Illinois, near Chicago. He ran the academy for two decades before becoming a private baseball coach. He's written two instructional books, The Making of a Hitter and Raising an Athlete, and written extensively online about baseball and how to teach it. Since this is the 30th anniversary of that great '81 Dukes team, I caught up with Perconte for a conversation about his time playing in Albuquerque, on one of the most dominant AAA teams of recent decades.

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What was AAA ball like circa 1980, both in Albuquerque and around the Pacific Coast League?

Every step up in minor league ball gets better as far as stadiums, fan interest, living conditions (hotels), pay, and travel conditions. Albuquerque was one of the top places in all of those areas so it was fun and exciting. Many of the other cities in the PCL were cool places to visit—Phoenix, Hawaii, Vancouver, to name a few—so that was also exciting to be in the PCL. Additionally and of course, you realize that you are only one step away from your dream in triple AAA ball, too.

What was it like to play AAA ball all through the 1981 major league strike? Did it help create a winning atmosphere on your team, because the Albuquerque players knew they weren't going to go up to Los Angeles, and you could concentrate on winning the PCL title? Obviously, stability is extremely rare on a minor league team, and I imagine being together almost all year helped the Dukes.

I believe it did help because with nowhere to go (no big league call up possibilities) everyone just settled in and played ball. We were so loaded with talent that we probably would have won no matter the circumstances, but because of the strike, we received some notoriety from the Los Angeles and national press. Additionally, the Dodgers and other ball clubs sent out scouting personnel to see us that wouldn’t have been available if the big club was playing – people like Tommy Lasorda made the rounds so we felt like we were being showcased more than we normally would have been.

Do you have a lingering bond with the players and coaches from the ’81 team because of how good the Dukes were? Fans focus on the majors and titles won there, but how important is it to have that AAA title in the memory bank?

Once you play with any team, win or lose, a bond is created; because of how good we played and the success we enjoyed, there is a special memory of those Duke teammates. I think the memories are probably more special for players like me who only had marginal success at the big leagues and for the teammates that never made the big leagues. Players that went on to long-time major league careers may not look back on the minor league Duke team as quite so memorable. Additionally, and this may sound trite, but the chemistry on the team, including with our manager, was tremendous. We got along very well and were good friends on and off the field, and many of us even to this day.

What's your memory of the atmosphere in Albuquerque? Was the city unusually attached to the team? Did you have a sense of following a winning Dodgers tradition that extended down to the minors?

Very fond memories—great place to play with supportive and knowledgeable fans. It was definitely a Dodger town and after the great Albuquerque Duke teams of the early '70s with Lasorda and those great teams, we definitely felt the Dodger pride and tradition.

Was there really a "Dodger Way," as emphasized by Lasorda and others: did you guys on the Dukes feel you had a winning edge because of the system of training, discipline, and camaraderie the franchise had in place?

For sure—from the time you became a Dodger, you knew that it was a privilege to be a Dodger. We immediately received a handbook of the Dodger way to play baseball. It all began with Spring Training at Dodgertown in Vero Beach, Florida where you began to feel a sense of the Dodger history and tradition. Many of the all-time great Dodgers would be around instructing and giving moral support so you could not help but feel the winning edge, so to speak. Upon leaving the Dodgers I also noticed that the caliber of people the Dodgers drafted were quite high, too, which definitely helped in the areas of discipline and camaraderie.

On a side note, it is so sad to see that it seems like all those things you mentioned and the winning edge have drifted away from the Dodgers over the last many years and especially now with the current state of the franchise.

Could you talk a bit about the Dukes’ 1-0 exhibition game win over the Dodgers after the strike ended? It sounds like a memorable unofficial game that really did count for both teams—almost a one-off franchise World Series.

We (Dukes) were so psyched up for the game because, first it was just a neat thing to play in Dodger Stadium where many of the guys hadn’t played before and maybe never would and two, because of our success that season we felt like we could definitely play at their level. Even though we won, it almost felt like a loss because we knew they were rusty from the long layoff and a 1-0 win was not enough of a win. I believe we sensed that they treated it more like a spring training game and not a real game, as we did. Ultimately, we were hoping for a much more dominant outing and I know, personally, I came away with even more respect for the big league club after that game because they played well despite a long break.

Did you feel like an outsider in '81 when you got called up to L.A.? Or when you watched the team play in the playoffs? I guess maybe being around guys you'd played with in the minors made it more comfortable to be in the majors. And the strike must have affected the atmosphere with the Dodgers.

As a September call-up in 1980 I felt like a member of the team, even though I was extremely nervous when playing. It all changed in 1981—after the summer strike the Dodgers decided to call Steve Sax up from double A ball to the “Bigs” instead of me. Because of that situation and knowing I would not get much of a chance to play, I did feel more like an outsider. Having said that, “Any day in the big leagues was a blessing and I wasn’t complaining.”

I don’t recall the strike affecting the atmosphere. By the time I got to L.A. that year, it was business as usual with everyone trying to win a pennant. As far as watching them in the playoffs, I was pulling for them because of the friendships and what it would mean if we won, which they did. I have a World Series ring to show, even being just a small part of them, so in the end I feel so fortunate the way things turned out, even if I had a few bad feelings at the time.

What were the biggest differences between the minors and MLB you noticed in 1981 and 1982? In terms of both the game and the conditions around the game—travel, housing, media attention?

That is a complicated question to answer in my situation because I went from the Dodger organization, which was the elite back then, to the Indians where times were quite bleak. The big leagues are the big leagues and so the money, travel, housing, and media attention are of course better, but with Cleveland back then there was a situation where they did not have many winning years in their recent past, an old out-dated stadium to play in and anemic crowds for most games. It was the big leagues but did not feel all that special at times. Of course, to make matters worse, I played like a minor leaguer when in the majors that year so my spirits were quite low for that season. Once again, one can never complain when in the big leagues because of the “coolness” of it all, but it turned out to be a very long year for me and the team.

It's very unusual to be a very good performer over three straight years for a very good PCL team. What was your frame of mind as time went by and you didn't get much of a chance with the Dodgers? Apparently Davey Lopes was blocking you in L.A., so you just had to be patient.

Looking back, I can’t say that I dwelled on it much – Davey Lopes was a great player and I felt like my time would come, if not with the Dodgers than somewhere else. I believe playing for such great teams in Albuquerque certainly helped me stay focused. We won a ton and winning keeps a player happy for the most part. As mentioned though, when the Dodgers brought up Steve Sax instead of me, my attitude changed quickly and I felt slighted and like I wanted to be traded. That trade came in the off-season.

When you came back to Albuquerque in '87 and won a PCL title to close out your career, how did it compare with your previous time with the Dukes? During ’87, were you conscious of it being a potential last hurrah for your career? And then in ’88, what was your feeling watching the Dodgers win with players from both the earlier Dukes teams and the ’87 team?

In retrospect, that year was a Godsend in many ways. First, that championship was so exciting because we were not the most talented team as our earlier Duke teams were. The ’87 team was composed of a lot of career minor leaguers or "has beens" like me, so to win the championship was unexpected. Second, by the time the playoffs came around, I knew it was the end of my playing days for me—to go out with another ring was so cool. Third, I met some people that season that helped me get my future job (a baseball academy) going, so that was fortuitous, also.

I am always happy for friends when they win and are successful and I was for the 1988 team, especially because I know how much work goes into being the best.

Finally, what made Del Crandall such a good manager for you? And how did his managing in the minors compare to his managing in the majors?

Del showed a confidence in me that other managers did not. He often told me, "You are my second baseman, so just relax out there." The one thing I often lacked was confidence, so that was an enormous help. I do not believe he changed from the minors to the majors. Like any manager, if you do not have the best players, it is very difficult to win.

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The Greg Goossen interview

Arne Christensen — 2011-08-02T05:05:15+00:00

Former major league baseball player Greg Goossen passed away on Feb. 26 at the age of 65. In August 2009, Brad Powers and I interviewed Greg for our documentary "The Seattle Pilots: Short Flight Into History." Just before we got started that day, as the camera rolled, he told us he was having a problem with one of his teeth. He turned away for a second to deal with the problem and then turned back and faced the camera. Brad asked if he was ready and he nodded, "yes."

So Brad asked the first question and when Greg opened his mouth to answer, he revealed the most hideous pair of novelty teeth I had ever seen. He started to answer the question but he was quickly drowned out by the sound of our laughter. He took the teeth out and gave us a funny, revealing, even touching interview. Greg was one of baseball’s good guys and he is missed. The following is the transcript of the interview. It has been edited for clarity. ~ Steve Cox

Steve Cox and Brad Powers: How did you end up on the Pilots?

Greg Goossen: I started out with the Dodgers in 1964. I was put on waivers. Here's the interesting part: about a week before they broke camp in 1965, they didn't keep me on the roster and put me on waivers and 19 clubs put in bids for me. The Mets picked me up and I thought I had a chance to do good things in New York. While I was struggling in New York, in 1965 the Dodgers won the World Series—and I was that close to making the roster.

I spent four years with the Mets, in last place losing 100 games a year. In the Spring of 1969 they trade me to the Seattle Pilots. The Seattle who? And, as you know, the Mets won the World Series that year. The interesting thing was the transition from New York to Seattle. When you were in New York and you played for the Mets—like Casey Stengel said—the babies born in New York didn't go "mommy, daddy," they went "Metsy, Metsy."

So I'm in Seattle and in a bar, up came this young woman and we were just talking. No big deal. I felt sort of full of myself because I was in the big leagues again. I’d just come up from Vancouver. She goes, "what do you do for a living?" I go, "Well, I’m with the Pilots." And she says, "Oh really? That’s interesting. What airline?" And I said, "No. The Seattle Pilots. The baseball club." And she had this blank stare on her face. And I just said, "TWA.” And she went, "Oh! That’s good."

That was the difference right there. I went to Vancouver. I started off with the big league club and then was sent down to the Triple-A club. I had a good year going .300, 18 home runs. I used to call up the big club and say, "when are you going to call me up—I'm doing well." They said, "we're going to take our time."

They finally called me up around this time of the year (August). We had our first game—I think I was there for Mike Hegan—he was on reserve duty. I thought after his two weeks were up I'd be gone. But I went 3-4 the first day with a home run. Hit two home runs a couple of days later so they were forced to keep me. But I enjoyed it immensely in Seattle. It broke my heart when they moved.

SC/BP: How did you feel about Sick’s?

GG: Loved it. When I was a kid we watched old Hollywood movies about baseball, they weren't these luxurious ballyards—they were ballyards like Sick’s. Nothing better than the advertisements on the walls and they were all different. There isn't a ballpark like Sick’s Stadium. There isn't a ballpark like Wrigley field. There isn't a ballpark like Fenway. I loved those parks. The lighting could have been better. I loved it. Of course I did very well there. I hit double-digit home runs there in very few short games. Loved it.

SC/BP What did you do after the 1969 season?

GG: That was a journey that broke my heart. I used to say, "well I played and they got rid of me." To me, Joe Schultz who managed Seattle was the smartest manager I ever met in my life. You know why? He played me! It’s the truth. I deemed him a genius. And not knowing whether we were going to leave Seattle, well, we were there in spring training on the last day and had no idea. I thought if we stayed in Seattle and Joe was still there I would have been the starting first baseman. No doubt. I hit .309 in Seattle. Ten home runs, 24 RBIs in 57 times at bat which is…I should have played even more when I was with Seattle.

Dave Bristol was the manager in Milwaukee—or Seattle at the time. We didn't get along well at all. I damn near didn't make the club, much less start. I broke camp with them and ended up with Milwaukee. Not for long though, about a month and Bristol got rid of me.

SC/BP: Besides his tactical abilities, what did you think of Joe Schultz?

GG: He was great with the players. I mean, by the time they get to the big leagues, what are you going to tell them? Their path is sort of marked. The human element like in football or any other sport means so much. You really want to go out and win for them. I wanted to go out and win for Joe so badly. He was a good man. A good man to play for.

SC/BP: How did you feel about all of the important events happening in the world that summer?

GG: I was in this cocoon. Just completely focused on the baseball season. Of course I knew about it, but I didn't dwell over it. I dwelled over what I needed to do to hit .300, who the pitcher was the next day—was he a left-hander? Because then I’d be playing. Baseball drew my attention then. I don't know if I was wrong or right not delving into it more, but I had a job to do. I loved the game so much I wanted to keep on doing it.

SC/BP: What did you think about the crowds in Seattle?

GG: There is not a thing about Seattle that I didn't love. I mean if we had stayed here and I played 20 years here and the Dodgers wanted me or Chicago—I wouldn't take any money. I was the happiest guy in the world and part of it was my teammates. A lot of it was my teammates.

There was not an ego on the team. There were guys who were up and coming down. Or guys who never got a chance. There were guys who had been on World Series teams like Ray Oyler for Detroit. They were the greatest bunch of guys I'd ever been around in my life. I went to a card signing with the Mets and it was difficult. I'm not going to name names, but they had won a couple of World Series and you could just see the egos working. With Seattle it was just so smooth. So great. Loved it.

SC/BP Was it because they played in New York?

GG: That's quite possible, but I played in New York for four years. I'm not saying I’m any better than anybody with ego, I mean I had plenty of ego. I didn't express it in a way that would really irritate.

SC/BP Do you think playing in Seattle made people humble?

GG: Possibly. But egos are egos. We had guys there that were—let's say Tommy Davis playing with guys who were far inferior to what he was at his top and Steve Barber. I mean Bob Locker—guys that had set a mark in this game. Don Mincher—on many a championship team. They just took it easy. We were all congenial. It might have been Seattle. Might have been. I've never given it that much thought.

SC/BP: What kind of job did Jim Bouton do in capturing the team in Ball Four?

GG: I've got two sides now: Bouton who I liked and teammates who I liked and loved. Bouton I loved because he was a teammate. He captured the shear immature funniness that brought you to the game. I mean grown-ups don't do that stuff. Grown-ups don't do what he mentioned in the book. There's an old saying, “you have to grow old, but you can stay immature all your life.” It was just maybe a way to relieve pressure. It was the greatest thing about baseball—you could be 30, 40 and act like a 16-year-old. I don't know if that's what people dream to do, but it was something we did.

SC/BP: Most people can't get away with that.

GG: Yeah, they can’t. In most jobs, no. It is quite attractive when you think about it.

SC/BP: How would you sum up your time with the Pilots?

GG: It was wonderful. I struggled. I was not a quick starter. I was always a slow starter. They said, "you only hit .140." Well, you know, that's pinch-hitting 30 times in a year at 19-years-old. My first year in the big leagues I was 19. And when they run you from the bullpen and say "hurry up, hurry up. Get in there!" You can't really watch the pitcher from that distance. If you’re going to be a pinch hitter, you have to sit on the bench and you gotta see what he’s doing—how he’s throwing.

One time there was a lefty was up to bat. The pitcher was right-handed but he was taking great swings off of him. He was 0-2 and they bring in a left-hander. I get a call from the bullpen. This is my opportunity to play—an 0-2 count.

First pitch I smash down the line in left field—goes about that far foul (indicates about an inch). Now with men on base it would have put the winning run across and I would have made my mark. Then I popped out on the next pitch. Come in with 0-2, you're in the hole. That's no place to put a 19-year-old kid—especially when he's trying to win a job. Pinch hitting's different than getting up there and trying to jack one out of the park to open someone's eyes.

It's funny how it works out. This sticks in my mind so much. Gil Hodges, with the Mets, God rest his soul, was going to start me against left-handers. Said, "we'll see how he does." He started me in St. Louis. I went 1-4, grounded out a couple of times. And I didn't play again. That was my chance to show I was big-league material. Then 30-years-later I thought, "what am I worried about—that was Steve Carlton! He's in the Hall of Fame!" That was my shot! I guess I'm complaining more than I used to. I never complained about this before, but I'm just being honest now.

SC/BP: How do you feel about this Pilots reunion? (August 30-31, 2009 in Seattle).

GG: Brad and Steve, this is something we've looked forward to for many a year. I think just to be with each other again, because we were such a close unit. It's too bad we didn't win more. Just putting this together had to be difficult, especially in these economic times. Especially with the tens of thousands of dollars you’re paying me to be here. Laughs.

BP: I think you’d better check with your agent again..

GG: Yes, my agent from baseball. Someone asked "so, who’s your agent?" And I said, "agent?!?" They would have thrown my ass right out of the office. In fact, I didn’t even go to the office! Laughs. It was a different game then, when I played. Way different. I actually thought anybody in high school could play in the big leagues. That's what they told you so you wouldn't open your mouth.

SC/BP: Was it better or worse?

GG: One of my fondest memories of baseball was not my paycheck. After the game the guys would chat and then we’d drink some beer. Nobody had enough money to go out and buy it so they would supply beer. And we'd drink and I'd listen to the old-timers—the experience talking—they would finally open up and talk about baseball. I learned more talking about baseball after a ballgame than I did during a whole Spring training camp.

SC/BP: Joe Schultz was famous for saying...

GG: Pound that Budweiser. Pound that Budweiser.

SC/BP: How did he say it?

GG: Well, you have to do the whole thing with the limp and he’d always take off his glasses and say, "men, pound that Budweiser tonight. Pound that Budweiser." Laughs. Win or lose or draw he didn't care. He was a tremendous man. He threw the bats and balls to us and said, “go play.” If we'd stuck together for a few years, we might have been the New York Mets. But it takes time. Takes time.

Joe was tremendous. He said something to me in Kansas City—I don't know if it's repeatable—I've got daughters to contend with and granddaughters. We're getting our butts kicked by Kansas City and I’m thinking his job's on the line and he's going to be tight and mad. He takes off his glasses, wipes them down and says, "Goose, have you ever gotten laid in this town?" Laughs. I go, "you know skip, no. It's terrible down here like Cleveland." Nothing against you Clevelandites. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. He was a great, good man.

SC/BP: Any particular stories you remember?

GG: With Seattle, right? I had a reputation for staying out and once in a while drinking too much. The guy I stayed at the Ramada Inn with was a guy named George Brunet. George was an old-time ballplayer, a left-hander. Gritty guy. A couple months before the end of the season, Dewey Soriano, the owner of the Pilots, throws a party out of the blue. So we’re going to a party. I’m getting dressed and George comes over to my place and goes, "now, Goose, you’re doing well right now, but you gotta be careful when you go in there. We’re gonna go in there, have a couple of drinks, say, 'hello, Mr. Soriano, hello (Pilots General Manager) Mr. Milkes and then leave. I’m doing this to protect you. Understand, Greg?”

I said, "Sure. Okay." He was an older guy, and you respected older guys. So, we take George’s car and we drive to the party and we’re having a couple of drinks and I look over and here comes George with Marvin Milkes in a headlock. And he goes, "now Goose there is hitting the ball real good, ain’t he Marv?" And Milkes says (imitating Milkes struggling to speak), "Yeah." And George says, “well, give him a raise. How does $15,000 sound?” (as Milkes) "I’ll think about it, George." Laughs. He lets him go and I say, "George, you’re killing me." And Milkes says, "ah, don’t worry about it. George has had a couple of drinks."

He’s gone now, so I can tell this story. All of a sudden there’s a knock on the door. It’s a cab driver and he goes, "who called a cab?" There’s still a lot of guys there. And George says, "I did." And I said, "George, we drove here." And he says, "I know, I know. Just take my word for it." He gives the cab driver, I don’t know, $30 bucks and says, "drive to the Ramada Inn. I’ll follow you. I forgot how to get there." Laughs. That was his big, "one night—we’ll say hello and goodbye." I was all primed for it.

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The final games of the all-time winners

Arne Christensen — 2011-02-11T09:26:15+00:00

A little bit ago I put together a list of how the game’s leading sluggers closed out their careers, and found that many of them bowed out with feeble grounders and pop-ups. Continuing the thought by looking at how the pitchers who won at least 270 games (they’re all retired) did in their last mound appearances turns up a similar pattern of struggle. I set the bar at 270 games because it’s 9/10ths of 300 wins, the same way that 450 homers, the bar for my earlier list, is 9/10ths of 500 homers. One thing you notice is that 34 pitchers have reached 270 wins, while 33 hitters have reached 450 homers: this could be a coincidence, or it could point to a general law governing how many players can reach career statistical landmarks.

Nine of the 34 pitchers wound up their careers before 1920, in a season not covered by Retrosheet’s not-quite exhaustive compilation of major league box scores, and I didn’t make the effort of hunting down newspaper coverage of their last games, so they’re not included here. But, here’s the list of what the 25 other pitchers did, with a few notes on their careers added in when warranted. It’s arranged in descending order, from Cy Young and his 511 wins to Burleigh Grimes and Mike Mussina and their 270 wins apiece.

Cy Young (511 wins)

Brooklyn Superbas (aka Dodgers) 13, Boston Rustlers (aka Braves) 3: Oct. 6, 1911: Young starts the second game of a doubleheader to end the season and pitches 6.2 innings, allowing 11 runs on 11 hits, including eight straight hits with one out in the seventh inning, which gives him the loss, for a 4-5 record, and provides “the signal for Young’s retirement,” as The New York Times writes.

Young does get a single and sacrifice in his three times at bat. I can’t tell if all 11 runs were earned, but all eight in the seventh were, and three runs scored in the second inning on two hits, a walk, error, and sacrifice fly.

Walter Johnson (417 wins)

Senators 10, Browns 7: Sept. 22, 1927: Johnson starts and pitches 3.1 innings, allowing six runs (five earned) and striking out two Browns. But he also hits a solo homer in his final at-bat; Tris Speaker replaces him as a pinch-hitter after Johnson is pulled for reliever Bobby Burke.

Pete Alexander (373 wins)

Braves 5, Phillies 1: May 28, 1930: Alexander comes in to relieve Phil Collins to start the seventh inning, and pitches the eighth as well, allowing two earned runs and one homer.

Christy Mathewson (373 wins)

Reds 10, Cubs 8: Sept. 4, 1916: At recently-opened Wrigley Field, Mathewson pitches his one and only game for the Reds (who he’s also managing), after the Giants had traded him and Edd Roush in July. It’s a complete game, which he wins despite allowing the eight runs, all earned, and 15 hits.

It’s also the last game for Mordecai "Three Finger" Brown, who pitches all nine innings while allowing 19 hits, and goes 2-for-4 off Matty, with two runs scored; Matty goes 3-for-5 off Brown, with one run scored. Given that this was a staged final showdown between Matty and Three Finger, and Matty had last pitched in July or earlier, the abundance of scoring isn’t surprising.

Warren Spahn (363 wins)

Reds 17, Giants 2: Oct. 1, 1965: Spahn comes on in relief of Gaylord Perry (Bobby Bolin had started the game) in the middle of the seventh inning, and allows a walk, gets credit for an out when a base runner is thrown out at home trying to score on an error by his third baseman, and allows a run-scoring single by pitcher Sammy Ellis. He’s charged with one unearned run.

Looking back on his career, Spahn said, “The consensus of everyone in baseball was that I played a year too long. Maybe I did. But I honestly thought I could still be a winner.”

Greg Maddux (355 wins)

Phillies 5, Dodgers 1: Oct. 15, 2008: Maddux pitches the third and fourth innings in relief of Chad Billingsley. He allows two unearned runs and strikes out three.

Roger Clemens (354 wins)

Indians 6, Yankees 4: October 7, 2007: Clemens starts and pitches 2.1 innings, allowing three runs and walking two Indians. His last batter is Victor Martinez, who strikes out.

Steve Carlton (329 wins)

Indians 10, Twins 2: April 23, 1988: Carlton starts and pitches five innings, allowing nine runs (eight earned) and two homers while walking three Indians, to earn the loss and an 0-1 season record. He’s relieved by Joe Niekro after allowing two hits and a walk to start the sixth inning.

The Twins release Carlton five days later.

Nolan Ryan (324 wins)

Mariners 7, Rangers 4: Sept. 22, 1993: Ryan starts and pitches to six batters, getting none of them out. Dann Howitt hits a grand slam after a single and three walks; Ryan leaves the game with an injury and the loss and a 5-5 record after reaching a 3-1 count on Dave Magadan; Magadan’s walk is charged to Ryan.

Don Sutton (324 wins)

Reds 6, Dodgers 0: Aug. 9, 1988: Sutton starts and pitches seven innings, giving up six runs (five earned), and two homers, earning the loss and a 3-6 record. He’s relieved by Jesse Orosco for the Reds’ last at-bat, but Sutton leaves the game with a swinging strikeout of Eric Davis to end the seventh.

Phil Niekro (318 wins)

Giants 15, Braves 6: Sept. 27, 1988: Niekro starts. After three shutout innings and a 5-0 lead through three, he fails to get any of five Giants batters out in the fourth, and leaves after walking Kevin Mitchell to load the bases. An ensuing Candy Maldonado grand slam means Niekro gets charged with the runs that all five of his batters scored. He gets a no-decision.

Afterward, Niekro says, “I was not embarrassed because I got beat around out there. I’ve done that before.”

Gaylord Perry (314 wins)

Angels 3, Royals 0: Sept. 21, 1983: Perry starts and pitches five innings, allowing three runs to get the loss and a 7-14 record.

Tom Seaver (311 wins)

Blue Jays 6, Red Sox 4: Sept. 19, 1986: Seaver starts and pitches four innings, allowing three runs to get the loss and a 7-13 record. Dave Stieb gets the win for the Blue Jays.

Seaver had been traded by the White Sox on July 29, about a year after getting his 300th win.

Tom Glavine (305 wins)

Cubs 11, Braves 7: Aug. 14, 2008: Glavine starts and pitches four innings, allowing seven runs and two homers to get the loss. He does draw a walk in his final at-bat, though.

Glavine wound up 2008 with a 2-4 record and 5.54 ERA, numbers identical to those he posted in 1987, his rookie year.

Randy Johnson (303 wins)

Giants 4, Padres 3: Oct. 4, 2009: Johnson pitches the seventh inning in relief, allowing one unearned run and striking out two Padres, including his final batter, Adrian Gonzalez. The unearned run ties the game at 3, so Johnson’s charged with a blown save, but the Giants win 4-3, in 10.

In the 11 games after getting his 300th win, Johnson pitched 38 innings, six of them in starts, went 3-2, and allowed 21 runs, 19 of them earned, for a 4.50 ERA. He also struck out 30 batters.

Lefty Grove (300 wins)

A’s 7, Red Sox 1: Sept. 28, 1941: In the second game of a doubleheader, Grove starts and pitches one inning, allowing three A’s runs to get the loss and a 7-7 record.

In the six games after getting his 300th win, Grove pitched 24 innings, all of them in starts, went 0-3, and allowed 26 runs, 19 of them earned, for a 7.13 ERA.

Early Wynn (300 wins)

Indians 7, Angels 6: Sept. 13, 1963: In a game played at Dodger Stadium, Wynn pitches to two batters in the sixth inning in relief of Jack Kralick, allowing an Indians single and then getting a line out.

In the 15 games following his 300th win, Wynn made one start, went 0-1, picked up one save, pitched 27.1 innings, and allowed five runs for a 1.65 ERA.

Tommy John (288 wins)

Yankees 8, Angels 6: May 25, 1989: John starts and pitches 5.1 innings, allowing five runs and two homers (both hit by Bill Schroeder). Dale Mohorcic will blow the 5-3 lead John left him with but get the win nonetheless.

Somewhat incredibly, John, at 46, had been the Yankees’ Opening Day starter to begin the 1989 season.

Bert Blyleven (287 wins)

Rangers 9, Angels 5: Oct. 4, 1992: Blyleven starts and pitches 4.2 innings, allowing six runs on 12 hits for the loss and an 8-12 record on the season’s final day. Kevin Brown gets the win, and Kenny Rogers relieves Brown for two innings before Todd Burns closes out the game for Texas.

Robin Roberts (286 wins)

Pirates 9, Cubs 1: Sept. 30, 1966: Roberts pitches the eighth inning in relief of Ken Holtzman, allowing the first four Pirates to reach and score, the last three on a Willie Stargell homer, before recovering to get three outs.

Ferguson Jenkins (284 wins)

Phillies 5, Cubs 2: Sept. 26, 1983: Jenkins pitches the ninth inning in relief, allowing two runs on a Joe Lefebvre homer that scores Mike Schmidt.

Jim Kaat (283 wins)

Cardinals 13, Pirates 6: July 1, 1983: Kaat comes in with two out in the eighth inning and retires the last four Pirates batters after allowing a single by Dave Parker.

Red Ruffing (273 wins)

Red Sox 7, White Sox 5: Sept. 15, 1947: Ruffing starts and pitches seven innings, allowing seven runs and three Red Sox homers to get the loss and a 3-5 record.

Ruffing had started out as an outfielder, but switched to pitcher after losing four toes from his left foot in a mining accident as a teenager. Nonetheless, he hit over .300 in several seasons, and from 1928 through 1932 was a well above average batter.

Burleigh Grimes (270 wins)

Dodgers 2, Pirates 1: Sept. 20, 1934: Grimes pitches a perfect eighth inning in relief for Waite Hoyt.

In 1985, Grimes will say of a suggested comparison between himself and Dwight Gooden, "I wouldn’t put myself in that class."

Mike Mussina (270 wins)

Yankees 6, Red Sox 2: Sept. 28, 2008: Mussina starts and pitches six innings, allowing no runs and three hits to get the win and a 20-9 record. His final pitch produces a double play grounder from Dustin Pedroia.

The great sluggers cumulatively produced a woeful 6-for-26 with three walks in their final at-bats. These 25 pitchers did even worse in their final games. They cumulatively pitched 83.2 innings, and posted a 2-10 record. They allowed 91 earned runs (assuming that one of Cy Young’s 11 runs allowed was unearned), for a 9.79 ERA. Sixteen of them made starts in their final game, with the other nine pitching in relief. Mussina was the only starter to allow fewer than three runs, and it would be hard to improve on either his six shutout innings or him obtaining two outs with his final pitch.

The generally ugly showings summarized above hint that at least a few of these 25 pitchers got the message from their final performances that it was better not to come back next year (all but six of them had their last game in the season’s final month), and so they left the field forever. Presumably the cumulative numbers would improve somewhat after adding in the nine missing pitchers from the dead-ball era, but my guess is that many of those nine also left the stage as losing pitchers.

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Final at-bats of the great sluggers

Arne Christensen — 2011-01-26T09:47:15+00:00

When I recently put together a list marking some similarities between Ken Griffey Jr. and Willie Mays, the most striking oddity was that both made their final appearance as pinch-hitters late in games that their teams lost by one run: Mays grounded out, shortstop to second for the force at second; Griffey grounded out, second to shortstop for the force at second. I'd earlier seen that the Bash Brothers, Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire, produced another oddity as they played their final games on October 6 and 7, 2001, with both flying out to deep center field in their last at-bats.

It seemed that Ted Williams, with the famous “Adieu” of a homer in his final at-bat at Fenway Park, was perhaps the only, and certainly one of very few, top home run hitters to end his career with a bang. Following up on that thought by researching how retired hitters with over 450 homers closed out their careers turned up mostly cases of sluggers fading into futility, with many producing only routine grounders or pop-ups from their final swing.

Few of them reached base in any way, and no one matched Williams' feat. One of the most common endings for the sluggers was pinch hitting after the 6th inning in a loss that usually meant nothing in the standings: looking at the box scores, you could see their managers calling on them one last time in the hope they'd deliver a bit of glory and a final warm memory before stepping off stage, only to be disappointed.

Many veteran players and managers emphasize that baseball is a game that teaches you humility: this list shows how even the greatest major league batters were brought down by age and slowing reflexes to end their time at the plate with a whimper. It's arranged in ascending order, from Carl Yastrzemski and his 452 homers to Barry Bonds and his 762 homers.

To introduce this list, here’s a quote from Yaz as he anticipated his final game: “I tried to get a home run for my three thousandth hit and it took me twelve at bats just to get a single. I’ve learned that lesson.”

Carl Yastrzemski
Red Sox 3, Indians 1: October 2, 1983: Yaz pops out to second baseman Jack Perconte in the bottom of the seventh to end a 1-3 day, with one walk, and is replaced in left field by Chico Walker.

Jose Canseco
Twins 6, White Sox 5: October 6, 2001: Canseco pinch hits for catcher Mark Johnson in the top of the ninth and hits a fly ball to center fielder Torii Hunter.

Dave Winfield
Indians 17, Royals 7: October 1, 1995: Winfield pinch hits for first baseman Paul Sorrento in the bottom of the seventh and hits a grounder to second baseman Keith Lockhart. Herbert Perry replaces Winfield at first base in the eighth inning.

Carlos Delgado
Mets 8, Pirates 4: May 10, 2009: Delgado strikes out looking against pitcher John Grabow in the bottom of the eighth to end a 1-4 day, with one run scored, and is replaced at first base by Fernando Tatis in the ninth.

Willie Stargell
Expos 6, Pirates 1: October 3, 1982: Stargell starts at first base and hits a single to pitcher Steve Rogers to lead off the bottom of the first, and Doug Frobel pinch runs for him. (Frobel scores a run on a Mike Easler sacrifice fly.) Stargell had gone 0-8, with one walk, in nine previous games as a pinch hitter.

Stan Musial
Cardinals 3, Reds 2: September 29, 1963: Musial singles off pitcher Jim Maloney to score Curt Flood in the bottom of the sixth to end a 2-3 day. Gary Kolb pinch runs and scores a run for Musial, who is replaced by Charlie James in left field in the seventh.

Fred McGriff
Orioles 5, Devil Rays 4: July 15, 2004: McGriff grounds out to second baseman in the bottom of the sixth to end an 0-3 day, with one strikeout, and is replaced at dh by Damian Rolls.

Lou Gehrig
Senators 3, Yankees 2: April 30, 1939: Facing Pete Appleton, Gehrig flies out to center fielder George Case in the bottom of the eighth to end an 0-4 day at first base, batting fifth in the order.

Eddie Murray
Rockies 2, Dodgers 1: September 20, 1997: Murray pinch hits for pitcher Antonio Osuna in the bottom of the ninth and grounds into a 5-4-3 double play to end the game.

Gary Sheffield
Nationals 7, Mets 4: September 30, 2009: Sheffield pinch hits for pitcher Tim Redding in the bottom of the ninth and is intentionally walked.

Mel Ott
Cardinals 4, Giants 3: July 11, 1947: Ott, the Giants’ player-manager, pinch hits for pitcher Larry Jansen late in the game and goes 0-1 on a ground out to an unknown infielder.

Eddie Mathews
Senators 3, Tigers 1: September 27, 1968: Mathews pinch hits for pitcher Pat Dobson in the bottom of the ninth and grounds into a forceout at second; Eddie advances to second on an error by first baseman Frank Howard. Dick Tracewski pinch runs for Mathews.

Ernie Banks
Phillies 5, Cubs 1: September 26, 1971: Banks pops out to third baseman Deron Johnson in the bottom of the eighth to end a 1-3 day, with one walk.

Frank Thomas
Twins 12, A's 2: August 29, 2008: Thomas strikes out swinging against pitcher Craig Breslow in the bottom of the eighth to end a 2-4 day, with one run scored.

Ted Williams
Red Sox 5, Orioles 4: September 28, 1960: Williams hits a solo homer to center field off pitcher Jack Fisher in the bottom of the eighth to end a 1-3 day, with a walk and two runs scored. Carroll Hardy replaces Williams in left field in the ninth.

Willie McCovey
Giants 7, Dodgers 4: July 6, 1980: McCovey pinch hits for second baseman Rennie Stennett and hits a sacrifice fly to center fielder Rudy Law to score Jack Clark in the top of the eighth.

Jimmie Foxx
Phillies 4, Dodgers 3: September 23, 1945: Foxx goes 1-3, with a double in the third inning and two rbis, before being replaced at first base by Tony Lupien. So we know his last at-bat was an out, but we don’t know exactly how it happened. (Foxx had pitched a few games in July, August, and September of ’45.)

Mickey Mantle
Yankees 4, Red Sox 3: September 28, 1968: Mantle pops out to shortstop Rico Petrocelli in the top of the first and is replaced at first base by Andy Kosco.

Mike Schmidt
Giants 8, Phillies 5: May 28, 1989: Schmidt draws a walk from Mike LaCoss to load the bases in the bottom of the ninth to end an 0-3 game, with two walks.

Reggie Jackson
White Sox 5, A's 2: October 4, 1987: Jackson singles to center fielder Ken Williams in the top of the eighth to end a 2-3 game, with an rbi, walk, and double.

Rafael Palmeiro
Blue Jays 7, Orioles 2: August 30, 2005: Palmeiro strikes out looking against Jason Frasor in the top of the eighth to end an 0-4 game, with two strikeouts.

Harmon Killebrew
Royals 8, Rangers 6: September 26, 1975: Killebrew pinch hits for first baseman Tony Solaita in the top of the ninth, hits a grounder to shortstop Leo Cardenas, and reaches on Cardenas’s error, which scores Frank White and loads the bases. Rodney Scott pinch runs for Killebrew.

Mark McGwire
Astros 9, Cardinals 2: October 7, 2001: McGwire pinch hits for center fielder Jim Edmonds in the bottom of the ninth and hits a fly ball to center fielder Glen Barker.

Frank Robinson
Orioles 3, Indians 2: September 18, 1976: Robinson, the Indians’ player-manager, pinch hits for shortstop Frank Duffy in the bottom of the eighth and hits a single to left fielder Al Bumbry, scoring Joe Lis. Robinson is replaced by pinch runner Alfredo Griffin.

Sammy Sosa
Rangers 3, Indians 1: July 31, 2007: Sosa hits a grounder to third baseman Casey Blake for the forceout at second, in the top of the eighth, and ends an 0-3 day, with one hit by pitch.

Ken Griffey Jr.
Twins 5, Mariners 4: May 31, 2010: Griffey pinch hits for catcher Rob Johnson in the bottom of the ninth and hits a grounder to second baseman Nick Punto for the forceout at second. Michael Saunders pinch runs for Griffey.

Willie Mays
A’s 3, Mets 2: October 16, 1973: Mays pinch hits for pitcher Tug McGraw in the bottom of the tenth and hits a grounder to shortstop Bert Campaneris for the forceout at second. Mays is replaced at pitcher by Harry Parker in the eleventh.

Babe Ruth
Phillies 11, Braves 6: May 30, 1935: Ruth starts in left field and grounds out to first baseman Dolph Camilli in the top of the first before being replaced by Hal Lee after the first inning.

Hank Aaron
Tigers 5, Brewers 2: October 3, 1976: Aaron hits a single to shortstop Jerry Manuel, which scores Charlie Moore in the bottom of the sixth and ends a 1-3 day. Jim Gantner pinch runs for Aaron.

Barry Bonds
Padres 11, Giants 3: September 26, 2007: Bonds hits a fly ball to center fielder Brady Clark in the bottom of the sixth and ends an 0-3 day. Bonds is replaced by Fred Lewis in left field.

In their final at-bats (I'm assuming Delgado and Sheffield won't come back), these 30 players went a combined 6-27, with two walks and McCovey’s sacrifice fly; the homer by Williams is the lone extra-base hit among the 30 at-bats. In other words, they hit .222, with a .267 on-base percentage and .333 slugging percentage. These percentages would be woeful for even an average middle infielder hitting in the ‘60s or some other offensively impoverished decade.

Here's a fuller breakdown of what the 30 players did in their final at-bats:

Ground out: 10
Pop up: 3
Fly ball: 4
Strike out: 3
unknown out: 1
Single: 5
Walk: 2
Homer: 1
Sacrifice fly: 1

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An interview with Jim Pagliaroni

Arne Christensen — 2010-06-22T10:52:15+00:00

Former Major League Baseball player Jim Pagliaroni passed away on April 3, 2010 at the age of 72. In June 2008, Steve Cox interviewed Jim for the documentary The Seattle Pilots: Short Flight Into History. The Pilots purchased his contract from the Oakland A’s on May 27, 1969. He played the rest of the year with the Pilots and retired at the end of the season. The following is the transcript of the interview. It has been edited for clarity.

Steve Cox: How did you get started in baseball?

Jim Pagiaroni: My dad was the head waiter of one of the major hotels in Detroit, Michigan, where I was born and raised. Actually, Dearborn, so I grew up watching the Detroit Tigers. Hal Newhauser, Hank Greenberg, people like that and I fell in love with baseball when I was about 5 or 6. Then we moved out to California, where I continued my love for the sport. Literally started playing ball as early as I can remember.

SC: How did you get into professional baseball?

JP: I graduated from high school in 1955. I was all CIF player of the year for California. I was very fortunate in signing a bonus contract in 1955 with the Red Sox, which was one of those weird-type bonuses over $4,000. I signed the aggregate bonus of something like $85,000, which was a lot of money back then. The penalty to the ball club was you had to bring the ball player up to the big leagues as a penalty to the 25-man roster.

I was 17 years old, sitting in a Red Sox uniform on the bench. Of course, without the experience I wasn't able to play so it was a penalty for them on a daily basis. That's what I signed and the next year I went into the service. Joe Cronin was our general manager and said, "Why don't you go into the Army? We gotta pay your salary while you're there." (Which by the way is only $6k a year. Major league salary.) "Then your time in the military counts towards your baseball pension and you'll get it out of the way and you come right back out and go into minor league ball." I did that and it worked out super so when I came out in '58, early '58, I was able to go to Southern League and start my career.

SC: How long were you in the minors?

JP: I played 1958 with the Memphis Chicks Double-A and didn't cut it there so the end of that year, they sent Allentown, Pa., to finish out the year. The following year I played at Vancouver, B.C., Triple-A, which was a Baltimore organization. I was with the Red Sox—they loaned me to them and I played with Brooks Robinson and quite a few other guys that ended up having a great career. Then the following year I played for (the) Spokane Indians in the state of Washington, which was a Dodger organization who had Willie Davis, Tommy Davis, Ron Fairly, Frank Howard—had a great team. In the middle of that year in 1960, they called me up to the big leagues. So I was very fortunate.

SC: So tell me about your playing in the early-to-mid sixties. You were a catcher?

JP: I was a catcher my entire career, all the way from Little League. I think the great thing about my story with the Red Sox, being in southern California, grew up there and signing with the Red Sox because I'd loved and admired Ted Williams. And I signed the bonus contract at age 17 and I go to Fenway Park, 17 years old, put on a Red Sox uniform, part of the team, and I got to the ballpark—this is a cute story.

I got to the ballpark early because I was excited and for some reason I had my jock-strap on and jersey and I went into the bathroom to go to the bathroom and I see this shadow coming to my left side and I looked up and it's Ted Williams. Well, I almost died of a heart attack and he looks over to me and says, "Hey, bush! My name's Ted Williams. I understand you're the new kid on the block." I said, "yes sir, Mr. Williams, I sure am." He said, "Let me tell you something," and he said something very prophetic. "This is just the beginning of the end of your life. Always treat it that way. If any of these reporters want to talk to you, you tell them that Ted Williams is your agent."

He'd always had this long-time feud with the press. And so I got to play there in '60, '61 and '62 and then I was traded to the Pittsburgh Pirates. I played with the Pirates '63-'67, which was with Willie Stargell, Bill Mazerowski, Roberto Clemente, three Hall-of-Famers who I'd dearly loved. Had a great time there for five years and then I went on over to the Oakland A's and played '68 and '69 with the young team that eventually won three World Series in a row with Reggie Jackson, Joe Rudy, all the guys, Sal Bando, and had a great time. And, of course, Catfish Hunter.

I was very fortunate to catch Jim "Catfish" Hunter's perfect game—who I dearly loved and when he contracted ALS, Steve, he had me head up his foundation for his marketing and sales and not a finer human being you'll ever meet in your life than Jim Hunter. So then I got traded, they sold me to the Seattle Pilots for a bale of hay for Charlie O's mule. (laughs)

SC: What was it like, kind of joining the Pilots in the middle of the season?

JP: It's like anything else. You're joining a new ball club, you gotta get acclimated. A lot of the guys I've known I got to know while I was playing 10 years in the big leagues. So it was pretty easy doing the job and integrating with them and actually a great bunch of guys. Great spirit.

Understand that this was a first-year team that was a collection of young guys and older guys. Tommy Harper I believe. Joe Schultz was the manager who was an absolute joy to be around. It was real easy as far as I was concerned.

I didn't, obviously I wasn't thrilled about leaving the A's, but being towards the end of my career, I knew that was an issue because I'd had two cervical discs removed from my neck and back in the winter of 1967 because of a major collision I'd had at home plate that ruptured a couple discs. So they took those out. I came back and I was fine, but I lost velocity in throwing, which really (cost) me maybe 15% of my throwing ability.

Well, if you look at my catching career, I led the National League one year in defense. Double plays 16, which is strike out-throw out. So I really had a great arm then, but to have that happen, it really affected that part of my game. I did hit with some power, which was fine. It was a strategic move on the A's part because they had a young ball club as we all know ended up doing what they did, which was great. That's how I ended up at Seattle. I really enjoyed the time there, enjoyed the team, enjoyed the management.

SC: What did you think of the Sicks’ Stadium?

JP: Sicks’ Stadium, which was interesting, when I played in the Coast League, when I played for the Vancouver Mounties and the Spokane Indians, we went into Sicks’ Stadium. It was familiar and of course what I like about it, it had the short porch in left field. For a right-handed hitter it was great. But Seattle's such a beautiful area. I love it and over the years after baseball, I worked in part of that area for business and traveling the western United States. So, Sicks’ Stadium I really enjoyed.

SC: What was it like playing there? What was the atmosphere like?

JP: Actually, the crowds were very upbeat. They were so enthused about having a major league ball club. The park was pretty much full all the time or at least from what I remember it to be. So the attitude and spirit of the crowds were just great for the ball player. I played some positions while I was with Seattle that scared me to death. They put me on first base one night, they put me in right field another night and here I've caught all my life. I was absolutely petrified. But Joe says, well I could use your bat in the lineup, so there you are. I had no clue, no clue, but it worked. It was an absolute joy.

SC: I heard people say that Sicks’ was kind of a minor league park but it had the best playing surface. Some people said it was the best playing surface in the league.

JP: It was great, immaculately groomed all the time. Yes, that was accurate … as far as the actual physical field, it was wonderful.

SC: When you were playing there, did you ever get the feeling that the team might be in trouble? Maybe that the team might not last in Seattle?

JP: What's interesting about that is Jim Bouton was there and Jim's a very astute individual not only about life but also business. My background in the big leagues is I was a player's representative for pension negotiations for five years for the Pittsburgh Pirates—worked directly with Marvin Miller on pension negotiations with the owners.

So I had some experience in business accumulated, and then of course I had my businesses outside that. So whether you like it or not you're in tune to what's going on and you hear certain things. It was always an issue of funding. It was always, are they well capitalized? And it seemed to be an issue and of course as we all know, that ended up being the issue that transferred the franchise to Milwaukee.

SC: Let's go back to something. You talked about how you really like Joe Schultz. Tell me a little more about him. I've been told that he was kind of a players’ manager. In other words, he got along well with the players and was good at motivating the guys, but he wasn't as good as a tactical manager.

JP: That could be true because some managers have a tendency to leave pitchers in too long or not long enough. That's for conjecture of course. Being a new team and just by the nature of not being built up as an organization, we didn't win a lot of games. However, for the material he had I thought he did very well.

I'm very funny about strategic moves. I think everybody makes the basic moves properly as a manager. I think those are magnified when you're fighting for position, at the top, even become more under the microscope. I really never had any real issues that jump out in my mind about Joe, other than the fact that maybe he didn't have a deep pitching staff. So, he was doing the best he could to juggle starters, middle-relievers, stoppers or whatever. It was a tough job, at best.

I enjoyed Joe. He had a great spirit. You love the guy because you know, (I don't know if people knew this), but he worked for years at St. Louis as a St. Louis Cardinals coach and of course one of the things we found out is he owned a lot of Anheuser-Busch stock. So, after the game, the coolers were full of Anheuser-Busch beer. Whether we'd win or lose he'd come in, "Hey nice goin' guys. Great. Nice try." If we lost, "We'll get 'em tomorrow. Pound that Budweiser into ya." So you know, he tickled you.

I enjoyed Joe. As opposed to—I'd rather take a manager, know a good manager. Good managers give people the tools to become better. To me that's what management and business in the real world's all about. Joe had a tendency to do that. He had a tendency to elevate your spirit, which I think a lot of times is that a placebo effect is better than a lot of other types of motivation. Especially if it's constructive in the bad side.

In other words, it's real easy to admonish somebody for making an error. Mental or physical. I think there's a timing in order to do that. I was very fortunate in playing for some great managers. Danny Murtaugh, Pittsburgh Pirates. Hank Bauer at the A's. Bob Kennedy with the A's. I got to watch them, how they handled people in special situations. As I moved on into my private life, I even became more apparent of the correct way to manage people. It's really to understand who they are, what they are and what their personal feelings are all about. Take somebody like Joe Torre ... marvelous. And there's many managers like that, my personal feeling.

SC: Were you with the Pilots in the following spring, in '70?

JP: No

SC: Did you retire?

JP: I retired that winter, yes.

SC: What made you decide to retire?

JP: Well, it was a physical thing. I think one of the things you learn as you get older in the game (and I was only 31, just about to be 32) is that the ruptured disc issue and the surgery was one of which at best, having played first string for so many years, at best you knew that you could be second- or third-string catcher. Because I'd been through the business side of baseball, and was in negotiations for pensions, it got to the point where I had to either just be realistic to stay in the game at that level, or move on with my after-life career (as I call it in baseball). I'd made that choice.

SC: What did you think when you heard that the team moved?

JP: I thought it was great for the American League and obviously from the National League going from where they were at Sicks’ Stadium in the first year as the Pilots and then going into Milwaukee. I'd played against the Milwaukee Braves when they were in Milwaukee as well as when they moved to Atlanta. In fact we played the Milwaukee Braves the opening night in Atlanta. It was marvelous. I got to see the down-side of Milwaukee losing its team that they supported forever and then here they go, they get the team back. Which, I thought was a great move on behalf of Major League Baseball.

SC: Do you look back on your time with the Pilots fondly? Or do you see that as just kind of a pit-stop on the road?

JP: I never looked at anything as a pit-stop because you've been blessed by God to play a sport that I dearly loved as a child. You got to do it. So if you come away with any resentment, shame on you. I came away with a lot of gratitude and I always knew that no matter where I was, I was going to gain something by it. Again, the spirit of the athlete, even though they collectively know that they're not going to make a challenge for first place, they really want to be respectable, it's a matter of pride. In that, there was a great spirit, in that you join the Gene Brabenders of the world and the Tommy Harpers of the world and we had a great time, doing the very best we could, with what he had.

SC: As a ball player, did you keep up with what was happening in the country? The war, moon landing, etc…

JP: I think, obviously, if you were just a caring individual, you are. How could you not have empathy for soldiers that are fighting in a land that we weren't welcome in and from the public sentiment, they weren't when they got back. How can you not say, "how would you feel if you were there?" Of course the hippy movement, which was a breakthrough, socially. I don't know what side of the fence anybody sits on but when I look at something like that, it really happened for a reason to release spirit and people's ability to speak out, whether accepted or not. I think that's a God-given right.

So, those years, as volatile as they were, when I was (with) the Oakland A's, when Martin Luther King was shot. What a horrible thing! We were in Baltimore right after it happened. The Armored Guard had come in, BAR's loaded on the street corners and you go, "what in the world is going on?" You stand there, at least I think the people I was around—athletes were just mostly shocked, in awe and somewhat (saying) "What's wrong with us as a society to have this happen?"

For somebody that had the intestinal fortitude, I don't care if you're an Italian or Hispanic or African-American. To walk out and do the kinds of things that Martin Luther King did was absolutely a spiritual breakthrough. So again, it was monumental times. I look back on them and I really say to myself, "How did I handle it?" It was like the question you asked: "Did I handle it in the best sense of a caring person?"

SC: What about something, for example, like the moon landing? Do you recall that?

JP: Well absolutely, I'm a novice astronomer—have been since I was a kid! Telescopes, reflecting/refracting telescopes and all that. So when this thing happened, I watched the Sputnik thing get up and then watched this whole thing. I'm still a massive fan of what's happening on Mars now with the Mars landing. I thought it was incredible, absolutely incredible. I was very proud of that obviously, from a technical standpoint because I'm not a technical guy.

SC: Are there any favorite moments or stories or recollections you have from when you were with the Pilots?

JP: There's a few. But you know if it's depends on the comical and stuff. I knew Jim Bouton was writing a book, because every time something funny would happen in the bullpen, he'd pull out his spiral notebook and write it down. He'd say, "that's hilarious." And I say, "why are you writing it down unless you're writing a book?" He'd say, "I just wanted to make sure I remember it." I said, "Nah, you would remember it." It was funny.

That winter, when the book broke and he called me and said, "What did you think of the book?" I said, "I told you, you little devil, you were writing a book." And he, anyway, did a great job. But as far as favorite stories ... I think favorite stories are usually in shop, union shop type things in any industry or organizational or social group. Obviously, in baseball, it's a lot about superstitions or practical jokes and stuff.

One of them was they had "Home Run for the Money" in Seattle. If you hit a home run in the ninth inning or the seventh inning with nobody on that was worth, they'd take a drawing that would be worth X dollars. If you hit a home run with two men on it was more and a Grand Slam was worth $25,000. But it had to be in that particular inning.

Well, I just happened to hit a home run in the seventh inning one particular game. I think I won a fan like $5,000 and lo and behold, that fan sent me a check for 10%—sent me a check for $500, which I thought, my gosh, this is unheard of. Later on, towards the end of the year, Fred Talbot, pitcher for the Pilots, gets up with bases loaded, hits a grand slam in the seventh inning and wins this fan $25,000.

Well, the next day we get on a plane and fly somewhere to continue our playing but we were all on the plane and I forget who came up to me. He says, "You know, we ought to play a practical joke on Fred." I said, "What's that?" He said, "We ought to tell him that the word came back through because he knows you won someone $5,000 and got 10%, $500, that the front office heard that the fan heard that Jim Pagliaroni got 10% and they're gonna send Fred Talbot 10% of the $25,000." Which is $2,500.

So I happened to be sitting next to Fred on the plane and I said well Fred, I tell him the story. "We just heard that somebody in the front office, traveling secretary—I'm not sure who it was so we can't really be accurate—said they got a phone call from the fan that won the $25,000 and they're going to send you a check for $5,000." Fred's going, "You're kidding!" I said, "Well, it must be true Fred. Look what that one fan did for me. That's just an absolute blessing!"

By the time the plane landed he says, "Oh I can buy a new boat, I've always wanted this 40-horsepower outboard." He was all pumped up. So a week went by, nothing. Nine days went by, nothing. We're back home, and it comes out in the paper—I think it's hilarious—this individual So-and-So who one the $25,000 is being chased by his wife for alimony payments and is nowhere to be found. Fred found out about it then he realized that it was a practical joke. Oh, he was ticked. That's the real wonderful stuff we do in sports.

SC: Did you read Ball Four when it came out?

JP: Yes. Yes I did.

SC: What did you think of it?

JP: I thought, from a very academic standpoint, I thought Jim was extremely accurate. I think he was extremely personally emotional about his feelings towards the people he was talking about, the Mickey Mantles of the world and his issues. Jim was a very savvy individual, politically and business-wise. He was right on the money because I was involved in pension negotiations so he was right on the money in all aspects and how he spun it as a business. Obviously that wasn't the theme of the book, but his portrayal of the business side of the game was absolutely accurate. Most of his stories—that I know of—were absolutely right on the money. He spun it really right and it was hilarious. I thought he did a great job.

SC:I looked up all the sections where you're mentioned and you come off quite well in the book. It sounds like you guys got along pretty well.

JP: Well we did. We had certain opinions about things and I think we correlated on certain aspects of the business, which I was very personal about and still am today.

Sometimes I'm asked to go speak at different groups, church groups, and a question comes up about salary issues and stuff. I say, "you know it's a business, sports fans. When you look at the New York Yankees that $1.2 billion in value—franchise—and it keeps going up every year. So, what if they paid $200 million in salary? In the business relationship, if your fixed asset is going up that much, you got a great business.

You look at even Charlie Finley—which there's a great story. He bought—I'm not sure of the accurate amount—the Kansas City ball club. Somewhere in the 11 million or 9 million dollar (range). I'm just taking a guess here, but it was in 1968 I think, or '69 or '70 when there was some talk about moving the club. I think the value was like 38 or 39 million dollars. So there's an appreciation of asset. So the cost of doing business was still the same to market. But the fixed asset keeps going up.

That's how I can explain salaries, whether or not people buy that or not, to me it's part of the financial mechanism that makes it work.

SC: Any other stories with the Pilots that you think were very memorable?

JP: There's probably a lot of them, Steve, but those are some of the favorites. The one I told was kind of a favorite. I think those are the things you remember other than the fact that I really enjoyed my time there with the ball players. We still, some of us, communicate. I think that's the thing you bring away from any industry that you really had a fortunate time in your life to play.

SC: Did you really miss the game when you left when you retired?

JP: As an athlete you always miss the physical playing and I kind of paint this picture. Good or bad, depending on how you cope coming out of the game. You have to understand that as a professional sport—because I still get in touch with the alumni—for indigent ball players, we tried to build up the support groups around that.

Brooks Robinson is the President of the Alumni Association and a personal friend of mine. Love him to pieces. The last number I got was 47% of the retired ballplayers—whether you retired last year, or 25 years ago—(are) indigent. Indigent means either financially, spiritually, socially, home-life, those are all bankruptcies that happen.

A lot of times I think it's simply one where you were brought up as a young person into an atmosphere of athleticism and you’re catered to. People do things for you, take care of you and they pat you on the back when you go 0-for-4. Even as a little leaguer. So you come out of this game, if you're not mentally and emotionally prepared, to the real world, which really says to you, "what can you do for me today?"

I loved my position in the food industry and I managed the western United States for many, many years for an international company based out of Connecticut in the U.S. We had a wonderful Irish vice president. One year I made top honors in sales. Hit all the bells and whistles on profit, sold, volume, all that. He looked at me and said, "By the way Jim, I know you been in the food business for a long time, but I want to remind you we don't give you a standing ovation for making your numbers. I'm just going to ask you what you're doing to make the next quarter's numbers."

That kind of sums it up to the real world where unfortunately ballplayers get out of the game. Unless you're the Ted Williams, or Hank Aarons or the Sandy Koufaxes of the world or the great ball players now, Tony Gwynn. There are very few generations—after a 10-year new generation comes around—they remember you.

Unfortunately if your mind and emotions are still stuck in that framework, it's really not fair to the individual not coming out of that denial. Much less, the suffering to the family and his group. That's really the nutshell on how I feel about it.

SC: Ball players of your generation didn’t make millions of dollars to keep them going after retirement—they had to find a new way to make a living.

JP: How do you wake up every day and have hope and be charged up about walking out the front door? It really gets down to the simple, most important things. You're right. That's a big problem. I find that when you talk to groups regardless of the level of intelligence to the group, they're kind of in awe of those base facts and figures. So many don't.

If you ask any ballplayer, no matter how bad off they are, "How ya doin?" And he might be suffering at all levels, he'll say "I'm doing just great, thank you." They're very prideful of the fact that they played the game, but weren't able to cope and adjust to life after. Now, today—I'll be the first one to say "hallelujah" that they make the money they do—still you have to manage that. You have to manage the net dollars, so when you come out of the game you can’t figure you what you want to do with the rest of your life without saying, "gee, I gotta go get a job just to make the mortgage payment."

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Albert Pujols: revisiting the early years

Arne Christensen — 2010-06-15T10:30:15+00:00

Albert Pujols entered Fort Osage High School in Independence, Mo., for the 1996-1997 school year. He’d recently left the Dominican Republic for New York City to live with his dad and aunt (his parents divorced soon after Pujols was born), and witnessed a shooting in the city. He moved west to the Kansas City area to join his extended family in a safer place.

A while ago I went looking for coverage of his amateur career to find out how he came to be a 13th-round pick in the 1999 draft: both what he did in high school and junior college and why his talent wasn’t fully appreciated by major league teams.

Pujols first appeared in local newspapers on March 27, 1997, when the Kansas City Star reported on the start of the high school baseball season and Fort Osage’s attempt to recover from a football injury to its key pitcher: "With plenty of new faces and questions to be answered, somebody to watch will be junior Albert Pujols. . . . He collected two hits Monday."

Heading into the state playoff semifinals in 1997, Pujols was hitting .471, with 11 home runs and 32 RBIs as the team’s biggest hitting threat. Fort Osage had him playing shortstop; he helped the team win the Class 4A Missouri championship. He was enrolled as a junior that year, but in November of 1997 Pujols was awarded another year of eligibility, which let him re-enroll as a junior for the ’97-’98 academic year.

Fort Osage principal Steve Scott said, "When he moved here last year, he was able to get his school work done, but he had so much trouble with the language that it really posed some problems." Fort Osage activities director Bill Gray said Pujols "just wasn’t grasping the language. Plus, he didn’t have the credits to graduate" in 1998.

People had already tabbed him as a high pick in the ’98 draft if he’d graduated on schedule (USA Today gave him honorable mention in its All-USA baseball rankings for ’97). Principal Scott said, "That’s what impresses me about the situation. Albert could have gotten a general diploma and been drafted and probably made a lot of money, but he chose to spend the extra time in school to get a quality education."

That summer of 1997, playing about a 60-game season for the Hi-Boy Drive In/Post 340 American Legion team, Pujols had 29 homers and 119 RBIs. When he played in the Wood Bat Invitational that July, his manager, Gary Stone, quipped: "I think he’d have power even if he used a toothpick."

Ahead of the spring ‘98 baseball season, an Independence Examiner columnist cited Pujols as "an awesome baseball specimen” whose "talent—as well as his home-run power—is prodigious." He added, "Do yourself a favor and go watch him play as much as you can. That way you can say you saw him before he was a major leaguer." There was no hesitation locally about Pujols’ abilities, even though he’d played just a single year in Missouri.

Fort Osage didn’t do as well in 1998, losing in the district playoffs, but Pujols had a .660 batting average, setting an area record, and 26 walks, 18 of them intentional. After the season, Tampa Bay Devil Rays scout Fernando Arango said,

He has so much raw talent and ability. We were working with him on his footwork. That’s one reason some of his throws are off-line, but he has such a strong arm and he really hits with a lot of power. He could become an outstanding player.

In the American Legion season that summer, Pujols surpassed his 1997 performance. In June of ’98, Dick Puhr of the Examiner told the tale of a deep grand slam homer he hit at venerable Crysler Stadium in Independence one Monday night:

The blast down the left-field line was higher than the light standards and sailed, not only over the fence, but the railroad tracks and landed in a mulberry bush. ‘It was better than the one I hit last year at Hidden Valley,’ Pujols said, referring to his legendary blast last year that cleared the scoreboard and crossed the road behind the fence, traveling an estimated 450 feet at the Blue Springs park.

Post 340 manager Stone added: "It’s the farthest and hardest I've seen a baseball hit here."

That summer, Independence Post 21 pitcher Brian Moeller said, "I threw him a ball on the fists, and he hit it to dead center field at Crysler Stadium. He hit it off the handle and drove it that far. You throw him the ball outside and he hits it 470 feet to the opposite field. You just can’t pitch him and find a weakness."

He had 35 homers and 124 RBIs in that 1998 American Legion season, hitting .593 and, of course, winning player of the year honors from the Independence Examiner. In January 1999, he left Fort Osage with enough credits to graduate as an English as Second Language student and enrolled at Maple Woods Community College, in Kansas City.

Maple Woods athletic director Richard Guymon said, "I think he will get a lot more scouts to look at him and some scouts will see him that have not seen him before, both collegiate and big league. This will give him a much higher pick than if he just came out of high school."

Pujols hit a grand slam off Mark Buehrle and turned an unassisted triple play, still playing shortstop, in his first game at Maple Woods. That May, the Independence Examiner updated its readers on Pujols, who was hitting .461 with 17 homers and 60 RBIs in 34 games. (He wound up hitting .461 for the year, with 22 home runs and 80 RBIs.)

Maple Woods coach Marty Kilgore:

He’s the best hitter I’ve coached or seen. But what impresses me most about Albert is his work ethic. A lot of coaches in the area told me he didn’t have good work habits and that he was moody. I’ve seen just the opposite. He’s the first player at practice, the last to leave, and when practice is over, he’s heading over to the batting cage to take some more swings.

Kilgore said Pujols was likely to get picked in the first three rounds of the June 1999 draft: "All the scouts like what they see. What’s not to like?"

It didn’t happen, of course, and I don’t know why a guy who was so celebrated in the local media slipped so far. But the Kansas City Star reported on July 15, 1999:

Albert Pujols, a baseball player at Maple Woods Community College, recently was drafted by the St. Louis Cardinals in the 13th round of the first-year free-agent draft.

Pujols, 19 and a former player at Fort Osage High School, might return to Maple Woods in the fall if the Cardinals don’t sweeten their initial contract offer. ‘I was really excited about getting drafted. It all depends on what the Cardinals want to do.’

Pujols is playing this summer in the Jayhawk League in Hays, Kan.

Pujols made the NJCAA all-region team as a shortstop last spring and led the Centaurs to within one game of a return trip to the NJCAA World Series.

After the Hays Larks’ season ended, Pujols signed with the Cardinals for $60,000 (they’d offered him $10,000 in June), and he began his pro career later in 1999, in the Arizona Fall League, learning to play third base and hitting .327 with four homers and 21 RBIs in 26 games. After he tore through the minors in 2000 (his first at-bat, for Peoria, was a double off Josh Beckett), the Cardinals, upset with Fernando Tatis’ play after signing him to a four-year, $14 million contract before the 2000 season began, traded Tatis to Montreal, clearing the way for Pujols to jump into the spotlight in 2001.

As for the question of why he fell to the 13th round; well, in 2006, Red Sox scout Ernie Jacobs said:

First of all, his body wasn’t great back then. Plus, people weren’t sure how old the guy was. You assumed what he told you was true, but he wasn’t a great body, and his swing was a little long. I think what happened was, this was my first full year as a scout, and Albert didn’t make the airplane talk (from fly-in cross-checking scouts). There were a couple of scouts who liked him, who thought he could go high, but there were a lot that didn’t.

In 2003, with Pujols already established as a major star, Sports Illustrated’s Mike Fish took a look at him. He quoted Kilgore, the Maple Woods coach, saying this about the 1999 draft:

They don’t know what the hell they’re doing here in the Midwest as far as drafting. There are some idiots here that think they know the game. It is damn ridiculous—13th round. This guy’s not getting paid money that some got that haven’t even stepped on the damn (major league) field yet. I had scouts come to me the next year after the draft and tell me they didn’t turn him in (as a guy worth drafting). You got damn poor scouting, that is how you explain it. You have 100 guys who do their job and know what they’re doing and another 200 scouting each other.

I wasn’t around Independence in the late '90s, and don’t know the people who were, so all I have to go on is the spotty newspaper reports on Pujols at the time. Apparently he was pretty clumsy at shortstop, and maybe scouts saw him as a big body whose flawed swing would get exposed at the professional level. It may be the same misdiagnosis that got David Ortiz traded by the Mariners in 1996 and then discarded by the Twins after the 2002 season.

I haven’t seen pictures or video of Pujols in high school, but he was generating enormous amounts of power from that flawed swing and dominating his peers. Considering that, it’s not so much of a surprise that he was able to clear the minors in a single season and emerge as an MVP candidate in his rookie year.

I’ll close by quoting comments from the Examiner’s Bill Althaus at the start of the 2001 season that confirm Pujols was a local legend before he even got to St. Louis:

The first time I saw Albert Pujols, I thought to myself, ‘What’s that man doing out there with those kids?’ . . . He had a Mark McGwire body, and he was a junior in high school. When he hit the ball, it made a sound that high school players aren’t supposed to make.

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