Author: howard

Editor’s note: I’m pleased to present a first-ever guest edition of “Any player/Any era” by Albert Lang, one of the voters and writers for my project last month on the 50 best baseball players not in the Hall of Fame.

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What he did: Over the holidays, my fiancé’s sister gave me some unopened baseball card packs from the late 80s/early 90s. I got a shocking amount of Pedro Guerrero cards, including the 1990 Donruss MVP one. I sort of remembered Guerrero but certainly not as an MVP type guy. So, obviously, I had to cruise to Baseball Reference, and, my god, Guerrero slugged: .300/.370/.480 for his career with 215 HRs in 6,115 plate appearances with the Los Angeles Dodgers and St. Louis Cardinals.

Despite hitting well (.305/.355/.470) in his first four tastes (658 plate appearances) of the majors with the Dodgers, the team would not give him a full time role until 1982, when he was 26. Of course, it probably helped that he slugged five RBIs in game five of the 1981 World Series. Guerrero took the opportunity and ran with it, hitting .304/.378/.536 with 32 HRs, 27 doubles and 22 steals in ‘82. In so doing, he became the first Dodger with 30 HRs/20 SBs in a season. He became the second player to do so the following season.

While those years were all well and good, 1985 would be his East of Eden: .320/.422/.577, leading the league in OBP and slugging. During one stretch, he reached base 14 consecutive times, two plate appearances short of the record set by Ted Williams. Unfortunately, he ruptured a tendon during Spring Training in 1986. He did have some successful seasons thereafter, but he was never quite the dominant force he was with the Dodgers. Still Guerrero was a filthy hitter, a player Bill James called “the best hitter God has made in a long time.”

Era he might have thrived in: We’re sticking him in the American League in 1925. This was a pretty decent hitter’s era, one that would emphasize Guerrero’s ability to get on base. More importantly, he would fit in perfectly on the ’25 Philadelphia Athletics. He could slide in for Jim Poole at first base and greatly improve an already potent line-up. In addition, he could take at bats from the somewhat light-hitting outfielder Bing Miller. Of course, he’d be pushed out of the way once the Athletics decided to use Jimmie Foxx. Until then, Guerrero would be something.

Why: To quote Bill James in referencing Guerrero trying to play the infield: “Guerrero’s long war with third base.” Guerrero simply could not play third base. In 1983, he made 30 errors, tied for the 24th most by a third baseman in a season since 1946 (numbers via the SABR Baseball List and Record Book).

Without the burden of trying to play third, Guerrero would be free to do what he did best: mash. If you use his neutralized batting, Guerrero would be an absolute force from his age 25 through 29 seasons with the Philadelphia Athletics. At 29, he would hit .358/.462/.650 and his career line would be .333/.405/.529 with 242 HRs.

Had Guerrero played in the 20s, his numbers would look a lot more astounding. That said, even in his era, Guerrero compiled an .850 OPS, the 52nd best in MLB history by a right-handed batter (min. 5,000 PA) (numbers again from the SABR Baseball List and Record Book).

Also, hopefully playing in simpler times would help the simpleton Guerrero. In 1999, Guerrero was arrested while trying to buy 33 pounds of cocaine. He was eventually acquitted of drug conspiracy charges after his lawyer argued his low IQ made it impossible for him to grasp that he had agreed to a drug deal. In addition, later in ’99, O.J. Simpson called 9-1-1 to report his girlfriend missing. During the call he said she had been using drugs with Guerrero.

The 1920s, a simpler, better time for Pedro Guerrero.

You can follow Albert on twitter: https://twitter.com/h2h_corner

Any player/Any era is a Thursday feature here that looks at how a player might have done in an era besides his own.

Others in this series: Al Simmons, Albert Pujols, Babe Ruth, Bad News Rockies, Barry Bonds, Billy Beane, Billy Martin, Bob Caruthers, Bob Feller, Bob Watson, Bobby Veach, Carl Mays, Cesar Cedeno, Charles Victory Faust, Chris von der Ahe, Denny McLain, Dom DiMaggio, Don Drysdale, Eddie Lopat, Elmer Flick, Frank Howard, Fritz Maisel, Gavvy Cravath, George Case, George Weiss, Harmon Killebrew, Harry Walker, Home Run Baker, Honus Wagner, Hugh Casey, Ichiro Suzuki, Jack Clark, Jack Morris, Jackie Robinson, Jim Abbott, Jimmy Wynn, Joe DiMaggio, Joe Posnanski, Johnny Antonelli, Johnny Frederick, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Lefty Grove, Lefty O’Doul, Major League (1989 film), Matty Alou, Michael Jordan, Monte Irvin, Nate Colbert, Ollie Carnegie, Paul Derringer, Pedro Martinez, Pee Wee Reese, Pete Rose, Prince Fielder, Ralph Kiner, Rick Ankiel, Rickey Henderson, Roberto Clemente, Rogers Hornsby, Sam Crawford, Sam Thompson, Sandy Koufax, Satchel Paige, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Stan Musial, Ted Williams, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb, Vada Pinson, Wally Bunker, Wes Ferrell, Will Clark, Willie Mays

When looking back at Don Mueller’s outstanding career, one thing jumped out at me. In 93 percent of Mueller’s plate appearances, he put the ball in play—no strike outs or walks. In twelve major league years, his most productive ones with the New York Giants, Mueller struck out only 146 times, a total exceeded in a single season by Hall of Famers like Willie Stargell and Mike Schmidt.

On July 11 however, against his father’s old club, Mueller hit for the cycle by collecting four hits off four different Pirates’ pitchers (Vernon Law, Bob Friend, Jake Thies and Paul La Palme): a double to left field, a triple to right center, a single to center, and in his final at-bat, a home run into the right-field seats off lefty Dick Littlefield. The round tripper, Mueller’s first home run of the season, was a rarity for the man known as “Mandrake the Magician.” Mueller often described himself as a Leo Durocher-type of ballplayer —hit and advance the runner.The preceding year, Mueller finished fifth in the batting race, .333, and was the most difficult batter to strike out, whiffing only 13 times.

Mueller is best remembered for his pivotal role in the 1951 National League final playoff game between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Giants. With the Dodgers leading New York by 13-1/2 games in August, the Giants went on a late season tear to win 39 of their final 47 games that forced the do or die series.

Tied at one game each and with the Dodgers leading 4-1 in the bottom of the ninth inning of the deciding contest, the Giants’ Alvin Dark singled. Mueller, the next batter, took ball one but then noticed that first baseman Gil Hodges was holding Dark close to the bag. Mueller promptly singled passed Hodges to move, Durocher-esque, Dark to third. Whitey Lockman doubled to left to score Dark. But Mueller as he advanced to third tore tendons in his ankle. Mueller missed the rest of the game and the ensuing World Series against cross town rival New York Yankees

With Bobby Thompson the next batter, Giants’ fans would have settled for a single that would have scored pinch runner Clint Hartung, Mueller’s roomy, and tied the game. Instead, Thompson delivered the “Shot Heard ‘Round the World” winning home run (5-4) off Ralph Branca which Mueller listened to on the radio, alone in the clubhouse.  (See Thompson’s home run here.)

Mueller, 84, died in suburban St. Louis on December 28.

Editor’s note: “Does he belong in the Hall of Fame?” will run on Friday this week. For now, please enjoy the latest from Alex Putterman.

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Statistical comparison between baseball players decades removed from each other is undeniably dangerous – conditions and circumstances change wildly from generation to generation, making such analysis exceedingly difficult. For example, hitting 15 home runs in 1910 is much different than hitting 15 home runs in 2011, and winning 20 games in 1910 is much different than winning 20 games in 2011. But, like many dangerous things, these cross-era comparisons are often too tempting to resist. We love to argue over whether Barry Bonds was a better hitter than Babe Ruth and whether Pedro Martinez’s 2000 season was better than Walter Johnson’s 1913 or Bob Gibson’s 1968.

This enjoyment of comparison was the impetus for a blog post published here a few weeks ago, for this post, and for others I plan to write in the coming months. Today, I’ll break down the statistics of two all-time great Hall of Fame outfielders and attempt to conclude whose career was more productive. There’s of course no right answer, and if the players I’ve selected are as comparable as they seem to me, this should spark some debate and maybe even objection. What I present is only one opinion, achieved through totally objective, un-biased analysis of statistics.

Despite that preface and disclaimer about comparing players from different eras, the two players I’ll examine here actually overlapped by 14 seasons. Each reached the 3,000 hit plateau while playing for one team throughout his entire career. Each combined hitting prowess with excellent defense at a corner outfield position. And each was easily elected to Cooperstown in his year of eligibility.

Here are blind resumes of the two greats in question:

Player A: 399 home runs, 137 stolen bases, 134 OPS+, 91.0 WAR, 15-time all-star, 10-time gold glover, four top-5 MVP finishes

Player B: 452 home runs, 168 stolen bases, 129 OPS+, 88.7 WAR, 18-time all-star, seven-time gold glover, one MVP, two top-5 MVP finishes

Choosing between the two based on those numbers alone is very difficult, although player A probably gets the slight nod, having apparently been a more efficient hitter and better fielder than player B. As it turns out, player A is Al Kaline, the legendary Detroit Tigers rightfielder, and player B is Carl Yastrzemski, the similarly hallowed Boston Red Sox leftfielder.

And as close as those statistics appear, the deeper you delve into the careers of Kaline and Yastrzemski, the more and more difficult it become to discern who was better.

During Yaz’s absolute prime, the eight years from 1963 to 1970, the leftfielder posted an OPS+ of 152 and a WAR of 54.1. That stretch is far more impressive than any consecutive eight year period Kaline can boast of (Kaline’s best consecutive eight year run was probably 1955-1962, a time during which his OPS+ was 137 and his WAR 46.7). In what we’re calling his prime, Yaz led the league in batting average thrice and OPS+ four times. In Kaline’s entire career, by contrast, “Mr. Tiger” only once led the league in either category, winning a batting title in ’55. Yastrzemski’s triple crown 1967 season was by far the best single season ever by either player, and his ’68 and ’70 seasons were arguably better than Kaline’s best season (probably ’55) as well. For those who value peak performance over longevity, the argument stops right here. Yaz’s best was better than Kaline’s best, and, to some, that means the Red Sox star was a better player than his Tiger counterpart.

But the wider the window through which we compare the two, the more the stats favor Kaline. If we extend the aforementioned eight-year stretches into 10-year stretches, Yaz’s WAR edge dwindles, and when we tack on three more years and examine the players’ best consecutive 13-year intervals, thereby taking into account Kaline’s excellent 1967 season, the Tiger grabs a slight lead in WAR. The bottom line is that while Yaz had by far the best single season, easily the best two-year period, and even the best eight-year stretch, Kaline, due to superior consistency and extended excellence, had, I believe, the better career.

Since Kaline’s advantage in OPS+ is essentially negated by Yaz’s extra 2,500 career plate appearances, we can conclude the two were roughly equal as hitters. Both those who watch baseball and those who design algorithms agree Kaline and Yastrzemski to have been terrific defensive players; Yaz is 7th all-time in dWAR according to baseballreference.com, while Kaline is tied for 14th, but Kaline was, if gold glove totals are to be accepted as evidence, considered by his contemporaries as slightly superior with a glove, and right field in Tiger Stadium was certainly larger and therefore more difficult to cover than left field at Fenway Park.

The difference between the two players might be base-running. Although Yaz has a few more career stolen bases than Kaline, Kaline swiped his bags at a much better rate (68% to 59%). According to baseballreference, Kaline was, over the course of his career, worth 41 runs above replacement on the bases, while Yastrzemski was actually two runs below replacement. Speed wasn’t the defining aspect of either player’s game, but Kaline appears to have employed his better than did Yaz.

Yaz won the MVP trophy Kaline could never get his hands on, but Kaline’s wealth of high finishes shows that while he may never have been the single best player in the American League, he was consistently among the elite. Yastrzemski’s inability to match Kaline’s tendency to year after year finish among the top vote-getters for the MVP award supports what we concluded earlier: Yastrzemski had a terrific peak but didn’t remain MVP-caliber as long as Kaline did.

And so this discussion comes down to the unavoidable debate of peak vs. longevity. I don’t mind considering prime performance as a tie-breaker, but while this match-up is very nearly a tie, I think Al Kaline was, ever so slightly, a better player than Carl Yastrzemski. When gauging the productivity of the two players’ entire careers, Kaline seems to come out ahead. If you prefer Yaz on the strength of his dominance in ’67 and ’68 or, more broadly, from 1963-1970, that’s fine too. You take the better eight years; I’d rather the better 22.

I haven’t done one of these in awhile, so here goes. This is an occasional BPP feature and probably the most allegorical thing we do. Credit the great Josh Wilker for originally posting a lineup card of his favorite writers. Today, we look at high court justices, past and present.

P- Earl Warren: The longtime head of the Supreme Court might be its Cy Young. Among Warren’s biggest decisions: ending school segregation, guaranteeing Miranda Rights, and ensuring that political representation correlated with population size. And in his bravest performance, akin to Young’s 20-inning loss to Rube Waddell in 1905, Warren overcame personal reservations and led the commission that investigated the assassination of John F. Kennedy.

C- William Howard Taft: The only man to serve as both president and chief justice would crush any runner dumb enough to challenge him. Scott Cousins would long for the days of flattening Buster Posey while being pried out of Taft’s 330-pound girth. Never again would the Miami Marlins agree to an exhibition against a court.

1B- William Brennan: Lou Gehrig’s got nothing on Brennan, an Iron Horse of justice from 1956 to 1990. Brennan was a progressive, known for his views and writing the decision in New York Times v. Sullivan that established that actual malice was needed for libel judgments involving public figures. The journalist in me appreciates that almost as much as my inner baseball historian loves Gehrig’s “luckiest man in the world” speech.

2B- Thurgood Marshall: Marshall was the first African American justice with his appointment in 1967, so he’ll patrol where Jackie Robinson played the most games in his career.

SS- Sandra Day O’Connor: Who’s the perfect double play partner for the first black man on the court? The first woman. Granted, O’Connor would protest vociferously, telling court beat writers she’d been a star right fielder in the federal appellate leagues. None of the writers would listen, though, unaware O’Connor found their Phil Rizzuto comparisons deeply patronizing. And Rizzuto, for his part, would never get over his subsequent nickname of Sandra.

3B- Hugo Black: The 1919 Chicago White Sox were a deeply divided team with first baseman Chick Gandil refusing to speak to star second baseman Eddie Collins for two years. Black and Marshall might be the Gandil and Collins of this team, thanks to Black’s one-time membership in the Ku Klux Klan.

RF- Antonin Scalia: Right field’s an appropriate place for a right-leaning judge. Scalia would be known for his rifle arm, confusing to some who’d question if it was a reference to his support for the National Rifle Association.

CF- Oliver Wendell Holmes: Ask the average high school or college student to name any Supreme Court justice who hasn’t sat on the bench in their lifetime. They might know of Holmes, who has a name out of a Charles Dickens novel and was a legend of the 19th century high court. He’s Pete Browning here.

LF- William Rehnquist: Rehnquist marched to his own beat during his time on the court, a Nixon-era appointee who cast the deciding vote in Bush v. Gore in 2000. He’ll play left field.

Other starting lineups: Beatles songs, ex-presidents, writers

Today is the first day of a brand new year and while I usually simply consider the night before and this day to be just like any other, my thoughts have been turning recently and more and more to the past.  Guess it’s a result of getting older and a somewhat slow baseball off season.

It all started a couple of months ago when an ad for old baseball cards caught my eye.  As I scrolled down the list of this particular website, a set which I had thought no longer existed and one which I had occasionally dreamed about owning again one day caught my eye.  The 1962 Post Cereal baseball set.

I can’t recall how many of the actual set I had owned as a kid, (probably not more than 30 or 40 of the original 200 cards), but I have never forgotten the very first cards I cut off the back of the cereal box.  Looking at the pictures of the cards brought back a flood of memories.  I remembered the smell of the cards.  I remembered   making my mother wait (patiently?) In the grocery store while I searched for those cards I didn’t yet have never mind the type of cereal it might be, and I remembered emptying the box in a bowl, not being able to wait a week or so until the box was empty.

I would look at my six new cards over and over again, carefully cataloguing them with any others I might have.  I would listen to that night’s game on the radio and whenever a player came to bat, or pitched, I would pull out that card.  In my mind’s eye, I could see all the action on the field all those many miles away.  My card collection continued to grow and one lucky day, a friend of mine who was moving to Germany that fall, gave me a shoe box stuffed with baseball cards.  I now had Bowman and Topps and I can’t remember what else, but there must have been a couple of hundred cards in that old shoe box.

No one else I knew cared about baseball, Canada was then and is now a hockey country, and the only baseball game on television was the once a month Saturday Yankee or Dodger game on the French station of the Canadian Broadcasting corporation.  I didn’t at that time understand any French but that didn’t matter.  I really didn’t know any of the players, which ones were stars and which were not.  To their credit, my parents would let me watch the game.  They had no interest in baseball and probably didn’t understand my love for the game.  I probably didn’t understand it either-but I knew for whatever reason, I cared about nothing else.

In those days, the off season really was the offseason.  It was next to impossible to find any baseball news from the end of the World Series until that first Saturday game in April.  Sometimes there were no games until May or even June.  I suppose the information was out there in magazines such as The Sporting News and sports Illustrated, but I didn’t have the money to subscribe to any of those publications.  The first baseball magazine which came out each year was Baseball Illustrated with their pre season preview and I sometimes managed to find a copy of Street and Smith.  Baseball Illustrated had color pictures of the leagues previous season leaders.  These, of course, went up on my wall first thing.  My chances of actually seeing a major league game were less than nil.  These pictures, along with my Post baseball cards, were all I had to look at and dream about.

Over the past couple of months I have been purchasing the 1962 Post Cereal baseball cards from what has turned out to be an excellent and very reliable website. I don’t usually go for the stars although I have purchased Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Willie Mays, Hank Aaron and Sandy Koufax to name a few of the stars from that era.  But my most prized are the three I originally cut off that cereal box way back in 1962.  Woody Held, Vada Pinson and Lee Maye were those first.  I take those three out and look at them every day.  I have a special box for them.

When I look at them, I am seven years old again. When I look at them, baseball once again is free of player salaries and steroid scandals and all the rest. I am innocent and I feel safe. I know I’m not alone.

What he did: Cedeño may rank as one of the great “What If?” players in baseball history. Not long after Cedeño debuted with the Houston Astros in 1970, Leo Durocher declared him the next Willie Mays. And while the centerfielder had power good for 199 homers and speed that netted him 550 steals to go with a .285 batting average, he didn’t come close to reaching his Hall of Fame potential. In fact, Cedeño received just two votes out of 430 ballots in 1992, the only year he was eligible for Cooperstown with the writers. Many things hurt his cause, including: 1) A reckless temper and style of play that led to injuries and legal problems; 2) Playing his best years in the cavernous Astrodome; 3) Having his career in the 1970s and ’80s, no great time for hitters.

Era he might have thrived in: With his speed and contact, Cedeño would have appealed to Branch Rickey. Cedeño might not have had the temperament to stand in for Jackie Robinson at Rickey’s behest and stoically break baseball’s color barrier in 1947. But assuming we suspend disbelief about Cedeño’s dark skin color keeping him from the majors prior to this, he might have been a hit with Rickey’s other dynasty, the Gashouse Gang-era St. Louis Cardinals of the 1930s. And considering he’d be playing with future Veterans Committee head Frankie Frisch, who famously enshrined several of his teammates, Cedeño’s place in Cooperstown would probably be assured.

Why: The projected numbers speak for themselves. In 1972, Cedeño hit .320 with 22 home runs, 82 RBI and 55 steals, his OPS at .921, among the best ever by a Houston starter in the Astrodome years. On the 1931 Cardinals, these numbers convert to a .349 batting average, 25 home runs, 100 RBI, 62 steals and a 1.001 OPS. Cedeño might need to play right field since Pepper Martin and Chick Hafey wouldn’t be going anywhere, but otherwise, nothing would prevent Cedeño from playing a vital role on a championship team. He’d also be a young player in an offensive golden age, playing for a general manager who might help his attitude, too. That or he’d be just another one of the boys on those Cards, a fun-loving, hard-drinking club.

Are the projected numbers infallible? I doubt it. While Rickey signed players in part for foot speed and the Cardinals stole a lot of bases for their era, 114 in 1931 alone, it seems unlikely Cedeño could go for 62 steals that year. Granted, Ben Chapman led the American League with 61 steals in 1931, but it was somewhat aberrational. From the dawn of the Live Ball Era around 1920 to Luis Aparicio and Maury Wills revolutionizing the base paths 40 years later, stolen bases were a largely forgotten art in the majors. Frisch led the National League in 1931 with 28, and that’s not even the lowest total for a leader in that generation. All the same, Cedeño could have a shot at 30 steals. A 40-40 season more than a half century before Jose Canseco doesn’t even seem out of the question.

There’s also a question of whether a 21-year-old Cedeño could find a spot in St. Louis’s batting lineup. Rickey famously developed his teams through his farm system and rarely brought up young starters or kept old players around. The ’31 Cardinals exemplify this: Aside from 25-year-old shortstop Charlie Gelbert and 36-year-old third baseman Sparky Adams, every starter was in his late 20s or early 30s. Still, there were occasional exceptions, like Johnny Mize who became the Cardinals’ starting first baseman as a 23-year-old rookie in 1936. Perhaps Cedeño could follow his lead. Regardless, Cedeño would shine whenever he got his moment with those Cardinals.

Any player/Any era is a Thursday feature here that looks at how a player might have done in an era besides his own.

Others in this series: Al Simmons, Albert Pujols, Babe Ruth, Bad News Rockies, Barry Bonds, Billy Beane, Billy Martin, Bob Caruthers, Bob Feller, Bob Watson, Bobby Veach, Carl Mays, Charles Victory Faust, Chris von der Ahe, Denny McLain, Dom DiMaggio, Don Drysdale, Eddie Lopat, Elmer Flick, Frank Howard, Fritz Maisel, Gavvy Cravath, George Case, George Weiss, Harmon Killebrew, Harry Walker, Home Run Baker, Honus Wagner, Hugh Casey, Ichiro Suzuki, Jack Clark, Jack Morris, Jackie Robinson, Jim Abbott, Jimmy Wynn, Joe DiMaggio, Joe Posnanski, Johnny Antonelli, Johnny Frederick, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Lefty Grove, Lefty O’Doul, Major League (1989 film), Matty Alou, Michael Jordan, Monte Irvin, Nate Colbert, Ollie Carnegie, Paul Derringer, Pedro Martinez, Pee Wee Reese, Pete Rose, Prince Fielder, Ralph Kiner, Rick Ankiel, Rickey Henderson, Roberto Clemente, Rogers Hornsby, Sam Crawford, Sam Thompson, Sandy Koufax, Satchel Paige, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Stan Musial, Ted Williams, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb, Vada Pinson, Wally Bunker, Wes Ferrell, Will Clark, Willie Mays

About three weeks ago, thanks in large part to Baseball: Past and Present, I received an invitation to attend the annual Oldtimers and Active Baseball Players Association of Portland, Oregon dinner. One of the Oregon event organizers members who lived in Pittsburgh during the 1950s and had attended the game at the old Forbes Field read my blog about Vernon Law and his 18-inning masterpiece.  An exchange about the Pirates then and now ensued, an offer was extended, and before I knew it, I had booked an airline flight to Portland.

Having grown up in Los Angeles during the old Pacific Coast League’s heyday, I had a working knowledge of the Portland Beavers, one of the of the league’s original teams. But since I rooted exclusively for the Hollywood Stars and only followed their bitter cross-town rival Angels,  all I really could tell anyone about the Beavers from that era (1950-1957) is that the team consistently finished in the middle or at bottom of the pack with uninspiring records like 101-99 (1950), 92-88 (1952), 71-94 (1954) and, gasp, 60-108 (1957).

Thinking that my Portland welcome might be warmer if I had something more positive to say about the Beavers other than that they were perennial losers, I turned to my book shelf and pulled out “The Portland Beavers” by Kip Carlson and Paul Anderson.

Beavers’ history is rich indeed! Among the Beavers that would make their mark in the major leagues were such stalwarts as Luis Tiant, Lou Pinella, Satchel Paige, Rickey Henderson, Ray Fosse, Mike Shannon and Vic Raschi who, in 1947, was on loan from the New York Yankees.

Around Portland, there may still be lingering curiosity about what might have been had Raschi not been returned to the Yankees mid-season.

When Raschi reported to spring training in 1947, he was confident that based on his strong late 1946 performance he had made the Yankees’ starting rotation. But that year manager Bucky Harris inexplicably turned over the pitching coach duties to Charlie Dressen, a notoriously bad and unpopular handler of hurlers.

In Florida, Dressen limited Raschi to throwing batting practice. Just before the Yankees headed north, Raschi was ordered to report to the Beavers. Disgusted, Raschi instead went home to his wife Sally in Conesus, New York. After several calls from the Yankees threatening to banish him for life unless he went to Portland, Raschi reluctantly headed to the Northwest.

Once in Portland, Raschi met pitching mentor Jim Turner who would provide the keys to his years of pitching success with the Yankees and then the St. Louis Cardinals.

Tuner convinced Raschi that to win, he would need to pitch aggressively inside. As Raschi recalled in an interview late in his life, Turner told him:

“You have to crucify those sons of bitches, Vic. Murder them, crucify them, kill them.”

After a few weeks, Turner had so deeply instilled the mantra of “up and in” that Raschi dominated the PCL with his fearsome pitching and went 8-2 with a 2.75 ERA. By July, Turner knew that it was time for Raschi to return to the Yankees. After Turner placed a call to Yankees general manager George Weiss, Raschi was on his way back to New York. Although the Yankees were in the midst of a formidable winning streak, their pitchers’ arms were tired.

Raschi and Bobo Newsome, acquired in a trade, arrived in New York on the same day, started and won both ends of a double header against the White Sox in Chicago on the team’s way to 19 consecutive victories. Raschi ended the year with a 7-2 record, a 3.87 ERA and helped lead his team to a World Championship.

Meanwhile back in Portland, the Beavers finished 8-1/2 games behind the pennant winning Angels and 7-1/2 behind the second place Seals. Beavers’ fans, in one of those baseball questions that can never be answered, were left to wonder if Raschi would have made the difference between third and first.

Editor’s note: I’m pleased to present the latest piece from Alex Putterman, a regular contributor here.
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Four weeks ago, I unveiled my all-time all-Jewish all-star team. Now, in honor of the $51.7 million bid that won the Texas Rangers the rights to negotiate with Japanese star pitcher Yu Darvish, I present the all-time all-Japanese all-star team (of players who played in the Major Leagues). The migration of Japan’s talent to the United States has been a relatively recent phenomenon, so this team lacks much of the depth the Jewish team boasted but, led by future Hall-of-Famer Ichiro Suzuki, claims some degree of star-power.

C Kenji Johjima – Johjima is actually the only Japanese-born catcher to appear in Major League Baseball (Kurt Suzuki is of Japanese descent but was born in Hawaii and is a fourth-generation American), giving him this spot on the list by default. Johjima broke into the Majors with a bang, batting .289 with 32 home runs in his first two seasons with the Seattle Mariners, before declining in productivity and returning to Japan in 2009, after a four-year career in American baseball.

1B N/A – There has never been a Japanese-born first baseman in the Major Leagues, but Nippon Professional Baseball legend Sadaharu Oh won 15 home run titles in his 22-year career playing first base for the Yomiuri Giants and owns Japan’s records for home runs in a single-season (55) and a career (868).

2B Tad Iguchi – Second base happens to be somewhat of a hotspot for Japanese players, with Iguchi, Akinori Iwamura, and Kaz Matsui all having played the majority of their MLB games there. Iguchi was the only of the trio to play exclusively at second, and so he gets this position, while Matsui and Iwamura find spots elsewhere.

3B Akinori Iwamura – Iwamura played four MLB seasons, three of them in Tampa Bay, and was the starting second baseman on the Rays’ pennant-winning 2008 team. But the infielder performed best during his rookie season, when he posted career highs in home runs, stolen bases, on-base percentage, slugging percentage, OPS+ and WAR while playing third base.

SS Kaz Matsui – Matsui was, like Iwamura, primarily a second baseman but played shortstop as a Mets rookie (with a young Jose Reyes stationed at second). Matsui initially failed to live up to high expectations, struggling mightily during his time in New York, before reviving his career in Colorado following a 2006 trade.

LF Hideki Matsui – Probably the second most accomplished Japanese-born MLB player, Matsui has batted .285 and knocked 173 home runs in nine seasons with the Yankees, Angels and Athletics. A six-RBI performance in game six of the 2009 World Series earned him Series MVP honors, concluding a successful but somewhat injury-prone Yankee career.

RF Ichiro – The inarguable greatest Japanese Major Leaguer of all-time, Ichiro broke into the bigs with Rookie of the Year and MVP awards in his rookie season. And unlike other Japanese players who began their careers strong and then faded (see: Nomo, Matsuzaka, Fukudome, Iwamura, Johjima, Sasaki, Okajima) the Mariner outfielder built off his initial success and put together a career worthy of Cooperstown. Though his best days are behind him, Ichiro can already claim two batting titles, over 2,400 career hits, over 400 career stolen bases, and the MLB single-season hits record (262, set in 2004).

CF Kosuke Fukodome – A 3-run game-tying home run in Fukodome’s first MLB game and a .337 batting average in his first month in America made the outfielder a cult hero in Chicago, and while that level of success didn’t last long, Fukodome’s career has been a moderate success. He’s hit between .257 and .263 in each of his four MLB seasons and added above-average defense to a solid bat. Although primarily a rightfielder, Fukudome has played enough games in center (138) to warrant this position on this list.

With the dearth of Japanese position players already evident in the starting lineup, the all-time Japanese team’s bench is pathetically shallow. So Taguchi had his moments, contributing to the Cardinals’ 2006 World Series championship team. Beyond that, we don’t have much. There is no second catcher to bring off the bench, and Tsuyoshi Nishioka is the default utility infielder despite a disastrous rookie season in 2011. Outfielder Tsuyoshi Shinjo was the first Japanese-born player to play in the World Series, appearing in the 2000 Series for the Mets, but he didn’t amount to much thereafter. The only other Japanese Major League position player not yet mentioned here is Norihiro Nakamura, a third baseman, who lasted all of 17 games with the Dodgers in 2005, batting .128. On December 7, the Yankees won the rights to negotiate with infielder Hiroyuki Nakajima, who, if he signs, can round out this woefully unimpressive bench.

SP Hideo Nomo – If the Rangers come to terms with Darvish, they’ll be counting on him to surpass Nomo and assume the title of best Japanese pitcher to cross the Pacific. For now, the 1995 Rookie of the Year tops this rotation, having fooled the National League with an unconventional delivery and posted a 2.54 ERA (150 ERA+) in his first big league season, finishing 4th in Cy Young voting that year.

SP Daisuke Matsuzaka – Like Nomo, Dice-K began his career strong but has fizzled as the league has figured him out. Unlike Nomo, who peaked as a rookie, Dice-K’s sophomore season was his strongest. That year, 2008, the Red Sox righty went 18-3 with a 2.90 ERA (160 ERA+) and, like Nomo 13 years earlier, finished 4th in Cy Young voting.

SP Hiroki Kuroda – Kuroda is currently a free agent, with the Red Sox and Yankees considered among the front-runners for his services. The 36-year old has proved a reliable MLB starter, posting an ERA under 4.00 and an ERA+ over 100 in each of his four seasons stateside.

SP Tomo Ohka – Ohka quietly compiled a solid, decade-long MLB career, highlighted by an impressive 2002 campaign in which he won 13 games and finished 7th in the National League with a 3.18 ERA.

SP Masato Yoshii – Yoshii is less remembered than his contemporary Hideki Irabu (who gained his notoriety mostly by pitching poorly and being called a “Fat Toad” by George Steinbrenner), but Yoshii has a better career ERA, ERA+, WHIP, and WAR than Irabu.

Unlike the Jewish all-star team, the Japanese squad is very deep in the bullpen. Akinori Otsuka, Hideki Okajima, Takashi Saito, Koji Uehara, Shigetoshi Hasegawaand Kazuhiro Sasaki all enjoyed or continue to enjoy productive careers in the states. Honorable mention to Masanori Murakami, the first Japanese Major Leaguer, who pitched in 54 games during the 1964 and 1965 seasons before a resolution between MLB and Nippon Professional Baseball which, for 30 years, kept Japan’s best away from America.