Baseball: Past and Present

What he did: Tony Phillips had a long and relatively accomplished career (48.2 WAR in 18 seasons), yet doesn’t seem to be mentioned at all anymore. It seems Phillips was completely overshadowed by teammates (Jose Canseco, Cecil Fielder, Lou Whitaker, Alan Trammell, Travis Fryman, Jim Edmonds, Tim Salmon, Frank Thomas, Robin Ventura, etc.)

However, Phillips deserved more than one lone MVP finish (16th in 1993) and should be remembered fondly. Phillips has the 23rd most hits by a switch hitter all time and his .374 OBP is 12th all time for a switch hitter (oddly, just .001 behind Pete Rose.)

Phillips could, flat out, get on base. He scored a cool 1,300 runs, the 10th most all time by a switch hitter and walked the 33rd most times in MLB history. His 1,319 walks are the fifth most by a switch hitter, behind only Mickey Mantle, Pete Rose, Eddie Murray and Tim Raines. Phillips also led-off a game with a homer 30 times, the 10th most all time. If you think he was simply a compiler, you’re dead wrong. From 1989-1996, he was worth 34.2 WAR. During that stretch, he averaged a .276/.391/.405 line. I suppose the fact that he never lead the league in hits, hit a lot of HRs or stole a ton of bases kept him from getting his due. But, he did lead the league in runs in 1992 and walks twice, 1993 and 1996.

There wasn’t much finer than his 1993 campaign. He posted a .313/.443/.398 line. That OBP is tied for the ninth highest in a season by a switch hitter (min 3.1 PA per scheduled game, via SABR). His 132 walks were the third most ever in a season by a switch hitter.

Phillips was also the first player on the A’s to hit for the cycle, he went 5-5 with two runs and four RBIs against the Orioles in 1986 (poor Storm Davis.)

I’ll end with this: Phillips ended a game 109 times, tied for the 30th most ever with none other than Barry Bonds.

Era he might have thrived in: I wanted to put him in the late 1940s so he could go toe-to-toe with Pee Wee Reese and Eddie Yost, but I really think Tony Phillips would have thrived in the 1950s, specifically on the Cleveland Indians, two years after the club last won the World Series.

Why: The Indians were perennial bridesmaids in the 50s, finishing second six times and first once.

Would Phillips have pushed them over the top? Well, he would have hit .282/.394/.411 for the squad during that era. In addition, he could have slide nicely around the diamond to provide flexibility and a strong bat. In ’50, he could play second instead of Joe Gordon. The following year he could spell Ray Boone and Al Rosen, who had bad years. In ’52 and ‘53, he’d move Harry Simpson to the bench. In ‘54 and ’55, he could play right in favor of Dave Philley or short in favor of George Strickland.

He would post OBPs of .390 or higher in nine season during that era and his on-base abilities would fit the Cleveland line-up perfectly. Perhaps the Indians would have built a mini-dynasty and Phillips would be mentioned in the same breath with greats like Larry Doby, Al Rosen, Early Wynn, and others.

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

Similarly underrated players: Bob Watson, Cesar Cedeno, Gene Tenace, Jack Clark, Nate Colbert.

Others in this series: Al Simmons, Albert Pujols, Babe Ruth, Bad News Rockies, Barry Bonds, Billy Beane, Billy Martin, Bob Caruthers, Bob Feller, Bobby Veach, Carl Mays, Charles Victory Faust, Chris von der Ahe, Denny McLain, Dom DiMaggio, Don Drysdale, Doug Glanville, Eddie Lopat, Elmer Flick, Frank Howard, Fritz Maisel, Gavvy Cravath, George W. Bush (as commissioner), George Case, George Weiss, Harmon Killebrew, Harry Walker, Home Run Baker, Honus Wagner, Hugh Casey, Ichiro Suzuki, Jack Morris, Jackie Robinson, Jim Abbott, Jimmy Wynn, Joe DiMaggio, Joe Posnanski, Johnny Antonelli, Johnny Frederick, Josh Gibson, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Lefty Grove, Lefty O’Doul, Major League (1989 film), Matty Alou, Michael Jordan, Monte Irvin, Ollie Carnegie, Paul Derringer, Pedro Guerrero, 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

One of the things I most miss about baseball’s Golden Era is the blockbuster off season trade. Today when and if trades are made, they usually involve a marginal player swapped for an obscure minor leaguer. Fans have no particular attachment to the marginal guy and no clue about the minor leaguer. We’re robbed of any opportunity to get into a good, old fashioned hot stove league debate about the trade’s merits.

Even though it happened 57 years ago, greatest blockbuster of all time remains the 1954 trade between the New York Yankees and the Baltimore Orioles.

In November, 1954, Orioles’ field and general manager Paul Richards, who recently joined the team from the Chicago White Sox, and his New York Yankees counterpart George Weiss put together the largest two-team swap in major league history. So huge was the transaction that the Orioles, who had just moved to Baltimore from St. Louis, and the Yankees announced the deal in two stages.

First, on November 18 the Orioles confirmed that the team had sent the “Second Coming of Bob Feller” Bullet Bob Turley, the season’s American League leader in strike outs, Don Larsen, 3-21 and starting shortstop Billy Hunter to the Yankees for pitchers Harry Byrd and Jim McDonald, outfielder Gene Woodling, shortstop Willie Miranda and minor league catchers Gus Triandos and Hal Smith who won the American Association’s batting champ with a .350 average.

Because of waiver and draft regulations the rest of the trade was not officially announced until December 2. Baltimore sent pitcher Mike Blyzka, catcher Darrell Johnson, first baseman Dick Kryhoski, and outfielders Ted del Guercio and Tim Fridley to the Yankees to complete their end of the deal. The Yankees threw in pitcher Bill Miller, second baseman Don Leppert and third baseman Kal Segrist. By the time the trade was completed, the seventeen player deal was—then and now— the largest in baseball history.

With the addition of Turley and Larsen, considered the sleeper in the deal, to the Yankees still effective but aging staff that included Whitey Ford and Eddie Lopat, Las Vegas installed the Bombers as odds on favorites to recapture the American League pennant the Cleveland Indians had stolen away the summer before. The wise guys were right; the Yankees edged the Indians by 3 games.

Turley’s Yankees’ career was marked by ups and downs. But the high point came in 1958 when went 21-7. His .750 winning percentage led the league and helped him win the Cy Young Award which, during the 1956-1966 era, only one pitcher from both leagues were so honored. Turley is included with Don Newcombe, Warren Spahn, Early Wynn, Vernon Law Sandy Koufax, Whitey Ford, Don Drysdale and Dean Chance in that category.

In the 1958 World Series against the Milwaukee Braves, Turley dominated. After being knocked out in the first inning of the second game, Turley pitched a complete game shutout in the fifth and earned saves in the sixth and seventh games. His 6-2/3 inning relief appearance that ended game seven is a record. Turley was named the series Most Valuable Player.

In the following year, Turley hurt his arm and, after struggling for several seasons, in 1963 the Yankees sold him to the Los Angeles Angels. He finished the 1963 season with the Boston Red Sox and then became the team’s pitching coach in 1964.

Retirement has been very good to Bullet Bob. He joined an insurance firm, made millions and now lives on Marco Island, Fla. where his home overlooks the Gulf of Mexico. While Turley may not quite have amassed billions, his toughest decision these days is whether to fish for marlin or grouper off his 35-foot yacht that sleeps six.

Editor’s note: Please welcome the latest from Alex Putterman.

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Rick Monday was a solid Major League Baseball player, accumulating 32.7 lifetime WAR, about half of which while playing for the Athletics franchise that in 1965 made him the first pick in the history of the Major League Baseball amateur draft. While Monday will never be mistaken for a Hall of Famer, his career was certainly respectable, even by first overall pick standards. In fact, the success of the Monday selection would only be accentuated as the years passed and number one picks consistently failed to achieve their potential or even stick around the majors. The more time that passed, the more apparent the A’s fortune became. A superstar Monday was not, but almost any top pick for the next 20 years would have gleefully swapped careers.

We’ve written before about how the baseball draft has a noticeably worse success rate than that of football or basketball. And the trend may have been there from the start. It certainly wasn’t long until baseball learned that being picked first was not a harbinger of stardom. With the first overall pick in the second annual MLB draft, the New York Mets selected Steven Chilcott, and thus began a succession of failed top picks. Chilcott would never reach the Major Leagues, one of two ever number one picks, along with the Yankees’ Brien Taylor in 1991, to fall short of the Show (not counting Matt Bush, Tim Beckham, Bryce Harper and Gerrit Cole, all of whom are currently playing in MLB organizations.)

The next eight drafts would yield first picks ranging from disastrous (David Clyde, Danny Goodwin, Danny Goodwin again) to almost decent (Jeff Burroughs, Mike Ivie, Rom Blomberg sort of), an overall uninspiring group. Things got better from there, with five of the six first picks between 1976 and ’81 finishing their careers with at least 24 WAR (though the sixth, Al Chambers, was worth -0.7 WAR). In fact, Darryl Strawberry, number on pick in ’80, was, according to WAR, the most successful top pick selected prior to 1987, when Ken Griffey Jr. ushered in somewhat of a golden age for first picks.

Post-Griffey picking has been far from perfect, but several superstars have been taken number one overall in the past 25 years. Three years after Griffey came Chipper Jones and three years after that A-Rod. The 1999-2001 drafts saw a trifecta of MVP-caliber players taken at the top, with Josh Hamilton, Adrian Gonzalez and Joe Mauer selected first in successive years. Matt Anderson, Bryan Bullington, and others were certainly egregious busts, but a number of other number ones of the past 25 years (Andy Benes, Phil Nevin, Darin Erstad, and Pat Burrell among them) enjoyed successful careers. More recent drafts have produced Justin Upton, David Price and Stephen Strasburg, three top picks currently enjoying various levels of stardom, and the sky is considered the limit for 2010 number one Bryce Harper.

So what do these successes and failures of former number one draftees tell us about the draft process? Well, drafting first is undeniably somewhat of a crapshoot. Any time you can pick a shortstop and be unsure whether you’re getting Alex Rodriguez or Bill Almon you know there’s not much method to the madness. But there are some distinguishable patterns to selecting first. While several aforementioned position players have become stars after being taken number one, no first-pick pitcher has even achieved more than 30 WAR, nor has any pitcher taken with the second or third overall pick (well, at least until Josh Beckett and Justin Verlander reach that number this season), suggesting that highly-drafted hurlers are less likely than hitters to be worth the selection.

Not that picking at the head of the draft isn’t better than the alternatives. The 47 players selected first have combined for 799.2 WAR according to baseball-reference, significantly topping the 506.9 combined WAR of the 47 players selected second and well over twice the 286.7 WAR of all-time number five picks (in an interesting statistical anomaly, number five picks have been dramatically worse than number six picks, and number 10 picks have been more productive than number five, seven, eight, or nine picks).

So if your team finds itself picking first in an upcoming draft, consider the slot a legitimate silver lining of their futility, but be don’t be surprised to end up rooting for the next Shawn Abner, not the next Ken Griffey Jr.

In honor of black history month, I thought I might turn my attention to a legendary Negro League star each Sunday in February and try and shed some light on some of their legendary skills and accomplishments. While many statistics from the Negro League are impossible to verify absolutely and several stories seem to be more fable than fact, interviews with teammates and some major leaguers who played exhibition games against players from the Negro League can shed some light on how skilled the stars of this league actually were.

I begin with perhaps the greatest baseball nickname of them all, Cool Papa Bell.  I begin with Cool Papa because the stories of his speed and skill are the stuff that legends are made.

He was born James Thomas Nichols on May 17, 1903 in Starkville, Mississippi.  He changed his last name to Bell although when and why is not known.  He was the fourth of seven children.  He lived with his widowed mother.  He grew up hungry and dirt poor.

When Bell was 19 years old, he joined up with the St. Louis Stars of the Negro League as a…. pitcher.  It took the Stars a couple of years until in 1924 they finally realized the hitting, speed and defensive skill of Bell would be better served in centerfield.  It was from that moment that he gained his reputation as the fastest man in the league, and probably the fastest man in the known universe.

The stories told about his speed have become legendary over the years. Only the cartoon characters of the Roadrunner and Speedy Gonzalez seem faster.  Perhaps even they could not have caught Cool Papa in his prime.

Stories of scoring from first base on a sacrifice bunt, scoring often from second base on a fly ball and hitting a double on a bunt play have been told and may even have a basis in fact.  I can recall a game in the eighties seeing then St. Louis Cardinal centre fielder Willie McGee score from second base on a fly ball to centre.  I have witnessed a runner scoring from first on a sacrifice bunt. I have witnessed a batter reaching second base on a bunt play.  In both cases, several throwing errors were needed in allowing a run. No mention of such errors helping Cool Papa Bell.

Bell was once recorded having fully rounded the bases in 12 seconds.  Bell once hit a screaming line drive through the middle, barely missing the pitcher and being hit in the buttocks by that same line drive while sliding into second base to complete the double.

The great Satchel Paige told a story that Bell could turn off the light in their room and be under the covers before the room went dark. It was later revealed that Paige had neglected to mention that the wiring in this particular light switch was faulty and would often have a delay of a few seconds..

I can recall another story, I can’t remember from where exactly, of a catcher being asked how to throw Bell out attempting to steal second base.  The catcher simply and straight faced that he would throw the ball to third and hope it was in time.

Bell reportedly once stole second and then third base on the same pitch.

Cool Papa played and coached for several Negro League and Mexican League teams during his career. He led the Homestead Grays to the Negro League title in 1942, 1943 and 1944.  He last played for the semi pro Detroit senators in 1946. In the minors he tutored legendary to be Ernie Banks, Elston Howard and Jackie Robinson. In 1974 Bell was elected into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

James Thomas Bell died in St. Louis, Missouri at the age of 87.  In his honor, Dickson Street where he lived was renamed James “Cool Papa” Bell Avenue.

I wonder if there is a speed limit on James “Cool Papa” Bell Avenue.

On SABR Day last week at the Forbes Field Chapter, our guest speaker was Dick Groat, Pirates’ shortstop on the 1960 World Champion’s captain and National League’s Most Valuable Player.

Groat told a captive audience about his All-American Duke University basketball career and his days in the NBA with the Ft. Wayne (now Detroit) Pistons. The Pistons were so eager to have Groat on its squad that it chartered a plane to take him back and forth from Pittsburgh to Ft. Wayne so he could play for both teams.

Inevitably, the conversation got around to that famous World Series when the Pirates upset the heavily favored New York Yankees.

Groat speculated that one of manager Danny Murtaugh’s most insightful moves was to bench Dick Stuart for the seventh game. Whether facing righty starters (Art Ditmar and Ralph Terry) or the lefty Whitey Ford, the right handed hitting Stuart batted clean up in five of the preceding six games.

In the seventh game, however, Murtaugh inserted Rocky Nelson at first possibly because Stuart was in a slump (.150, the worst average of any regular on either team) or a better fielder. In my last blog, I wrote about Stuart’s notoriously bad fielding.

Both reasons could be correct. In the bottom of the first inning, Nelson hit a two run homer off Bob Turley to stake the Buccos to a 2-0 lead.

But more importantly, as Groat remembered it, Nelson made a play in the top of the ninth inning that Stuart may not have.

Here are the details. The Yankees trailed 9-7, Gil McDougald was on third and Mickey Mantle, who had driven in Bobby Richardson to make it 9-8, was on first. Yogi Berra hit a smash down the right field line that Nelson grabbed. (Berra: “I hit the heck out of it.”) After Nelson stabbed Berra’s shot he stepped on first for the second out. But Nelson inexplicably didn’t throw home to nail McDougald who had taken off and scored the tying run. If Nelson had thrown to catcher Hal Smith in time, the game would have ended and the Pirates would have been winners.

All the while Mantle, sensing he would have been a dead duck, didn’t try to get to second. Instead, Mantle safely dove under Nelson’s tag. Score tied 9-9, Mantle on first, two outs.

The next batter, Bill Skowron, hit into an inning ending force play, Groat to Bill Mazeroski, that set the stage for Maz’s bottom of the ninth heroics.

What if Stuart and not Nelson had been the Pirates’ first baseman? If Berra’s grounder gets past Stuart, it ends up in the deepest corner of the cavernous Forbes Field. McDougald scores easily and maybe the fleet footed Mantle too (but maybe not with Roberto Clemente’s arm in right).

The worst case for the Yankees is Mantle on third, one out with Skowron at bat, slugging Johnny Blanchard on deck and Clete Boyer in the hole. The Yankees also had two capable pinch hitters on the bench, another home run threat Bob Cerv and Hector Lopez who hit .429 for the series. Whether the Yankees would have kept on scoring is speculation but its probable that the Pirates would have needed more than Maz’s one-run homer to win the seventh game.

Ironically, Stuart was in the on deck circle to bat for pitcher Harvey Haddix while Maz was at bat. As he watched Terry get ready to deliver his fateful pitch, Stuart thought that if he got to bat, he could have been the hero. What Stuart didn’t realize is that by staying on the bench, he had already played an important part in the Pirates’ unlikely World Series victory.

What he did: Twitter lit up Thursday evening with news Josh Hamilton slipped again in his sobriety. Hamilton, who overcame monumental drug issues in the minors and relapsed before in 2009, at least has time to regroup before the season starts. Josh Gibson never got that opportunity, the end of his life a storm of drug and alcohol abuse after perhaps the greatest career in Negro League history. Gibson was good enough that some called him the black Babe Ruth, while others referred to Ruth as the white Josh Gibson. The history of black baseball admittedly has its share of hyperbole, though one can only wonder what Gibson might have done with an opportunity.

Era he might have thrived in: Bill James ranks Gibson as the greatest catcher of all-time, suggesting he may have fared well in any era the majors would have him. If Gibson hadn’t died of a sudden stroke at 35 in January 1947, mere months before Jackie Robinson broke the modern color barrier, I suspect he might have been picked up by the same Cleveland Indians owner Bill Veeck who signed 42-year-old Satchel Paige in 1948. As such, we’ll go in a different direction here. We’re taking Gibson to the late 1980s and early ’90s where he could fill in for one of the few players who rates a comparison to him.

Why: In his interview for the Ken Burns Baseball miniseries that aired on PBS in 1994, Buck O’Neil spoke of hearing Ruth hit the ball, a “sound of the bat that I had never heard before in my life.” O’Neil heard the sound again with Gibson and, decades later, he heard it again with Kansas City Royals slugger Bo Jackson.

Gibson had power for sure, with Negro League expert Scott Simkus telling me he hit 10 balls clear out of Griffith Stadium in 1942 alone. Gibson hit for average, too, a reported .359, which trumps Jackson’s .250 lifetime clip. Simkus said Gibson most closely parallels Jimmie Foxx, another sweet-hitting slugger capable of playing catcher, though the possibilities with Jackson intrigue me more. In Jackson’s place, Gibson might have been the superstar Kansas City lacked in the late ’80s while George Brett was aging and the Royals declining. Gibson might not have been Bo’s equal as a marketing icon, no “Josh Knows Josh” campaign for Nike, but he could have forged a Hall of Fame career in the majors. I see Gibson good for at least 40 home runs and a .300 batting average with Triple Crown potential.

What else might Gibson have gotten playing in recent years? Besides a seven-figure contract and the basic amenities that black baseball lacked, Gibson would have had better options for combating substance abuse. There’s also the question of his mental health, which went largely untreated in his lifetime. Stories of his issues abound, with Gibson battling depression, having conversations with an imaginary Joe DiMaggio late in life, and once breaking free of a straitjacket he’d been placed in by police. Treatment for mental health was somewhat draconian up through the 1960s, and while today is no renaissance, with plenty of stigma still attached, Gibson might stand a better chance of having his issues properly diagnosed and treated.

Certainly, Gibson’s personal demons wouldn’t be easy to face in any era, as Josh Hamilton could attest. Here’s wishing Hamilton the best.

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

Similar to Josh Gibson: Satchel Paige, Monte Irvin, Jackie Robinson, 

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, Doug Glanville, Eddie Lopat, Elmer Flick, Frank Howard, Fritz Maisel, Gavvy Cravath, Gene Tenace, George W. Bush (as commissioner), George Case, George Weiss, Harmon Killebrew, Harry Walker, Home Run Baker, Honus Wagner, Hugh Casey, Ichiro Suzuki, Jack Clark, Jack Morris, 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, Nate Colbert, Ollie Carnegie, Paul Derringer, Pedro Guerrero, 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, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Stan Musial, Ted Williams, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb, Vada Pinson, Wally Bunker, Wes Ferrell, Will Clark, Willie Mays

Before there was Plaxico Burress, there was Monty Franklin Pierce Stratton (man, people knew how to name their kids back in the day! See: Tenace, Fury Gene).

Once upon a time, Stratton was, seemingly, a young promising pitcher for the Chicago White Sox. An All-star, Stratton compiled a 36-23 record by the time he was 26. He completed 62 of the 70 games he started and had a 3.71 ERA and 1.31 WHIP.

He did the bulk of his work in 1937 (164.2 IPs) and 1938 (186.1 IPs). In ’37, Stratton posted a sparkling 2.40 ERA with a 3.77 K/9 rate and 2.02 BB/9 rate. His BABIP was .254 and his FIP was 3.39. It seems Stratton wasn’t great, just a tad lucky.

That said, in ’38, he posted a .265 BABIP, a 3.96 K/9 rate and a 2.70 BB/9 rate. His ERA was 4.01 and his FIP was 4.31. It would have been interesting to see if he was one of those guys who posted low BABIPs and beat his FIP routinely. For what it’s worth, Jimmy Dykes “foresaw unlimited possibilities” for the youngster according to Harold Sheldon’s Finishing the Stratton Story in 1949’s Baseball Digest.

Alas, everything changed for Stratton on November 27, 1938. Stratton had handled guns since he was 10 and owned five, including a .22 caliber pistol. “Monty stuck the .22 in his holster, and thought he had it on ‘safety,’ but it wasn’t, and when he pulled the gun out of the holster…it went off right away,” said his brother Hardin. There are some reports that Stratton tripped and fell and the pistol went off.

Stratton spent 30 minutes crawling toward his family home and was rushed to a hospital 10 miles away. However, they couldn’t get the bullet out, so they took him to a hospital in Dallas six hours after he was shot. Apparently, that didn’t really matter as Stratton, incredibly unluckily, completely severed the popliteal artery which is right behind the knee. The doctors had to amputate the leg.

Five months after the accident, Stratton signed a three-year coaching contract with the White Sox to throw batting practice and coach first base.

Four years after the accident, Stratton pitched in the minors. While managing the Lubbock Hubbers, Stratton sent himself to the mound in relief several times. He threw 9 innings and gave up 19 hits and 17 runs. He didn’t stay manager long.
However, four years after that, he threw 218 innings for the Sherman Twins. He posted a 4.17 ERA on a wooden leg. He pitched 103 innings the following year for the Waco Dons and would pitch intermittently until 1953 – 15 years after the accident.

All told, he threw 814 minor league innings, 388 of them were after his leg was amputated.

Forgive me if this is all old news to you because you saw the 1949 movie, which featured cameos by Dykes, Bill Dickey and Gene Bearden, but my dad was barely born then.

Stratton died on September 29, 1982, at the age of 70 – almost 6 months exactly after I was born.

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After Dick Stuart hit 66 home runs and drove in 171 runs for Lincoln Chiefs in the “A” Western League in 1956, he began to add the digits “66” to every autograph. But by the time Stuart was promoted to the Hollywood Stars in 1957, he always signed with a five-point star above his name. What no one could figure out, then or now, is whether the star reflected Stuart’s team or his image of himself.

As Stuart immodestly said after his record breaking season:

If the pitching was better, I would have hit 90 home runs. I had to chase a lot of bad balls to get those 66 homers.

By 1957, the Pirates minor league system was starting to produce high quality prospects. Stuart was considered among the brightest. In his typically brash manner, when he arrived in Hollywood awash in publicity Stuart immediately announced that he would lead the league in homers and RBIs.

At the season’s start, it looked like Stuart would make good on his promise. Playing—of all places—in right field, Stuart took the collar in the season opener of a day-night double header in San Diego. Then, in the night cap, Stuart blasted two homers, one estimated to travel 500 feet which led the Stars to a 14-1 victory. Over the next two games, Stuart smashed three more. But soon after Stuart’s bubble burst. He stopped hitting homers; in fact, he quit hitting singles,too. To complicate matters, Stuart’s fielding—“Dr. Strangeglove”—was atrocious.

By mid-May, Stuart was on his way back to Lincoln via the Atlanta Crackers. Paul Pettit, who after arm trouble had re-invented himself as an outfielder, took Stuart’s place in right and remained there for the season’s balance.

As Hollywood manager Clyde King said to Stuart on his way out the door: “You’re losing me more games with balls hit through your legs than your winning me with home runs.”

Stuart’s Hollywood line: AB 72; BA .236; HR 6; RBI 17

No matter where his managers placed him, and they tried the corner outfield slots as well as first and third base, Stuart couldn’t field. Writing for Sport Magazine in 1962, Larry Merchant summarized Stuart’s glove skills (or, better said, lack of glove skills):

In the outfield, his indifference bordered on contempt. At first base, he resembled a dinosaur egg. Stuart’s trouble—it is theorized—is that he hates all pitchers including his own.

During his brief 13 game stint with the New Orleans Pelicans in the Southern League, Stuart fielded .889.

By 1958, Stuart was in the big leagues to stay first with the Pittsburgh Pirates, then the Boston Red Sox followed by cameos with the Phillies, Mets, Dodgers and Angeles. His major league tenure was full of ups and downs.

Along his way Stuart alienated the Pirates’ brass at every stop—Branch Rickey, Bobby Bragan, coach Dick Sisler and King.

In my next blog, I’ll look at the most famous fielding play that Stuart was ever involved in—while he was sitting on the bench during the 1960 Pirates-New York Yankees seventh game.

Editor’s note: “Does he belong in the Hall of Fame?” will return next week. For now, please enjoy this piece from Doug Bird.

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Hack Wilson came from the Pennsylvania steel country and left school after the sixth grade.  He worked throughout his childhood and developed his enormous upper body strength swinging heavy hammers at a locomotive works. In this environment, Hack learned that hard work was usually followed by hard play and that the best way to win an argument was with his fists. In time, he would take this approach to the National League and become, for a brief time, one of its greatest power hitters.

Wilson was a 5’6”, 190 lb outfielder who played from 1923 until 1934.  In 1930, he had one of the greatest seasons in baseball history, setting a record that still stands with 191 runs batted in.  Hack is remembered more for his drinking and brawling, both on and off the field, than for his on-field career. And it definitely curtailed his career, with most of his lifetime 39.1 WAR being accumulated in a seven-year stretch between 1926 and 1932. In a sense, all of this and more makes Wilson underrated, one of baseball’s forgotten stars.

Wilson began his career in 1921 playing minor league baseball for Martinsville Blue Sox of the Blue Ridge League (Class D) Two years later he was promoted to the Virginia League (Class C.) Despite the fact that Wilson hit .356, .366 and .388 in the minors, most major league executives considered him too small to play in the big leagues. New York Giants manager John McGraw, only 5’7” himself, thought differently and signed Wilson to a contract in 1924. Hack hit a solid .295 that season but slumped to .239 the following season and was sent back to the minors and left unprotected. The Chicago Cubs quickly snapped him up for the sum of $5,000. Wilson had found a home.

Wilson won four home run titles from 1926 to 1930 and led the Cubs to the World Series in 1929.  He led the league in RBI in 1929 with 159.  His lowest batting average during those four seasons was .313. His lowest RBI total was 109 and the fewest home runs he hit were 21. Then came 1930.  Although Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Jimmie Foxx, and Hank Greenberg each had seasons of 170 RBI or more before and after 1930, Hack Wilson that year drove in a record 191 runs, a record which still stands  and established a then National League record for homeruns with 56.  He also batted .356 that season and was the league’s MVP.

But Wilson would never again reach those daunting heights. Four years later he was washed up, an alcoholic and out of baseball.  He had been the perfect fit for the roaring 20’s in Chicago an era in which excess of every kind was encouraged and admired, and Wilson hung out with the stars and the notorious elements of the city. It soon proved too good to last. At one point in the glory years, Wilson’s manager Rogers Hornsby stuck a worm in a drink, showing him what the alcohol did to it. He asked Wilson what he thought of it, and he replied, “If I drink, I won’t get worms.”

In 1931 Wilson was involved in several on and off field altercations, his fight with reporters just after boarding a train for Cincinnati on September 6 leading to his suspension for the remainder of the season. Wilson was traded to the St. Louis Cardinals the following season and then to the Brooklyn Dodgers where he had his last successful season. Mid-season 1934, Wilson was released by Brooklyn, briefly signed by Philadelphia before he was out of baseball for good. Wilson’s most memorable moment that final season came when he accidentally fielded a ball heaved at the Baker Bowl right field wall by a manager conferencing with his pitcher and fired a perfect throw to second base.

Wilson moved to Baltimore after several unsuccessful jobs as a bartender in Brooklyn and a goodwill ambassador for a Washington D.C. basketball team. Although he had made more than a quarter million dollars during his career– in 1931 alone, Wilson made $33,000 the highest-paid National League player– Wilson died on November 23, 1948, a penniless alcoholic. His funeral was paid for by bar patrons who passed the hat. His grey funeral suit was donated by his undertaker. His son did not attend the funeral. And though it would be another three decades before the Veterans Committee inducted Wilson into the Hall of Fame in 1979, he was already a forgotten man.