Baseball: Past and Present

The Baseball Writers Association of America just announced its picks for the Hall of Fame next summer, and the debate continues over who should eventually be in Cooperstown. Players suspected of being involved in the Steroid Era have turned up the heat on this debate making opinions even more intense and subjective. Many writers seem to sit on both sides of the proverbial fence, unable to commit to one side or the other. Lately, the debate seems to be centered on not which player was voted in, but which player was not. Case in point: Rafael Palmeiro, who recently received 11 percent of the vote, despite topping 500 home runs and 3,000 hits.

Baseball is perhaps the one major sport holding statistics as irrefutable benchmarks.  The magic numbers 500 and 3,000 used to equal first ballot enshrinement from the BBWAA. The writers’ voting process continues to be one of gut feeling subjectivity combined somewhat with statistical objectivity. And of course baseball writers have, over the course of covering players, developed personal relationships with them, meaning personal likes and dislikes will be part of the equation. Many writers struggle with this and are often called to task by the general public for their choices.

The Steroid Era has polarized and inflamed the debate amongst writers and fans even more. Where does one draw the line if there even is a line to be drawn? What, if anything, does this change for those who have been denied inclusion? Should baseball adopt a more firm approach to the guidelines which loosely define who is and is not eligible? Who should decide, if they must? How serious and defining should the Hall of Fame be? Is it a right or a privilege?

In a December 28 column for Fox Sports, Ken Rosenthal bemoaned these very ideas. What used to be a fun and a looked forward to perk, Hall of Fame voting, has lost its luster. Rosenthal is not the first nor will he be the last writer to struggle with the revelations of the past decade. Writers do not wish to be seen as judging a player solely on suspected steroid use or other murky issues yet all want to believe in the integrity of the game.

The cases of Mark McGwire, Roger Clemens and Palmeiro point to the majority opinion as positive when considering eventual election coupled with an unofficial rationale. There is no infallible yardstick. These recent debates and actions seem to indicate that more respect is due and forthcoming a player elected in his first year of eligibility than someone who reaches somewhere during his fifteen year eligibility.

The solution seems obvious, as voting for the Hall of Fame is mostly subjective anyway with no hard and fast rule. I think there can be no doubt steroid and other performance enhancing drugs greatly inflated statistics for many years. Logic should prevail. Athletes do not naturally get better, stronger and faster as they age. Why should the obvious weigh on the BBWAA? They did nothing wrong except be trusting and naive. Do the math. Two plus two always equals four.

For supporters of Bert Blyleven being voted into the Hall of Fame, the inevitable finally happened. The Baseball Writers Association of America caved in, as it did with semi-worthy Ralph Kiner and put Blyleven in Cooperstown. Kiner made it on his fifteenth and last year of eligibility; Blyleven, in his fourteenth try.

Blyleven is a middle level pitcher compared to those already inducted, meaning he’s better than some, worse than others. I wouldn’t have voted for him.

Regular readers know that I’m a restrictionist. I believe fewer inductees make for a more exclusive Hall and contend that it should be reserved for only the best and exclude the very good. I’ve said it here before that voting in Blyleven is like allowing $500,000 net worth individuals into the Millionaire’s Club.

I offered a proposal here in July that before new players would be inducted, the older marginal ones ouoght be weeded out. Good bye Early Wynn; hello, Greg Maddux.

Understanding now that my proposal will never be implemented, I’ve gravitated to a more reasonable approach. Let’s limit the number of years a candidate can appear on the ballot. I’m greatly impressed by the idea introduced on this site by Matthew Warburg who proposes that players not appear on the ballot every year but rather over a series of alternate years with higher vote totals required for every stage.

I prefer a somewhat cleaner cut approach: one year, either in or forever out. Consider the marginal Kiner’s curious case.

In 1960, Kiner’s first year on the ballot, he got three votes and finished eighty-eighth on a ballot of 134. By his fifteenth and final try in 1975, Kiner got 75.4 percent of the vote, one more than the total necessary to qualify.

By that time, however, Kiner was a popular New York Mets’ broadcaster, a peer of the group that voted him in, the BBWAA. Television may have helped Kiner get into Cooperstown, just as numerous articles on the Internet were instrumental in getting Blyleven enshrined.

Another idea worthy of consideration is former New York Times baseball writer and BBWA member Murray Chass’ suggestion that certain strict minimum statistical standards be identified. If a player meets them, he’s in. If not, he’s out. As Chass wrote, “everyone can’t make it.” Under Chass’ system, the writers wouldn’t be burdened by the annual drag of evaluating the statistics of dozens of players of different skill levels.

I’m not in a big lather over Blyleven. I recognize that there’s no right and wrong in individual voting patterns. I’m resigned to an ever-expanding Hall.

But I truly dread the years not that far ahead when Barry Bonds and Alex Rodriguez and others in the steroid gang start their move toward Cooperstown.

What he did: I got a timely reminder of Harry the Hat earlier this week in Bobby Bragan’s 1992 autobiography. Bragan spoke of the players he encountered as a Phillies minor league player in 1939, writing:

And there was Harry ‘The Hat’ Walker. He was one of the greatest hitters I’ve ever seen, or that anyone’s ever seen. Harry was on loan to Pensacola from the St. Louis Cardinals, so he was really up on the rest of us. Teams would sometimes lend minor league players around to be sure all their top prospects got to play every day. Harry was a treat to watch when he was hitting. I’d say he was a lot like Rafael Palmeiro of today’s Texas Rangers, a guy who sprayed his hits from foul line to foul line. Palmeiro does have a little more power. But he and Harry could both hit a given pitch to any part of the field. That’s a tremendous advantage to a batter, and pitchers can’t ever find one pitch or location the guy can’t handle.

Walker won the National League batting championship in 1947 when he hit .363, and he batted .296 overall in his 11-year career. He played more seasons in the minors, 14 in all and posted a better batting average, .315 and over 1,200 more at bats in the bushes. It wasn’t uncommon in his era, when the minors were far deeper and sweet swinging outfielders with questionable fielding abilities, such as Walker, sometimes made long careers outside the majors. I got to wondering: What if Walker had some of the same opportunities as Rafael Palmeiro? I’m guessing Walker would have come out far better in Hall of Fame voting than the 11 percent Palmeiro just posted.

Era he might have thrived in: Because Walker had just four seasons in the majors with at least 500 plate appearances, I’ll forgo converting his  stats to the years Palmeiro played, 1986 through 2005. Instead, we’ll take Walker’s 1947 season and convert it to 1999, when Palmeiro hit .324 with 47 home runs and 148 RBI for the Rangers. At least for batting average, Walker would trounce Palmeiro.

Why: On the surface, a .363 batting average in any year seems plenty high. But baseball immediately following World War II favored pitchers. And Walker spent most of 1947 with the Phillies, a seventh place club that hit .258 and posted an OPS+ of 81, meaning they were worse offensively than their already anemic league. For Walker to bat .363 in these circumstances is kind of amazing. Since 1900, there has only been one batting champion on a team with a worse OPS+ than the ’47 Phillies: Dale Alexander who somehow hit .372 for a 1932 Red Sox club that had an OPS+ of 75 and finished 43-111.

So it’s not surprising Walker’s numbers would rise with the ’99 Rangers who hit .293 and had an OPS+ of 108. Using the conversion tool on Baseball-Reference.com, I have Walker hitting .395 with 223 hits for the ’99 Rangers. He wouldn’t offer much power, with one home run and 53 RBI, though he would have 19 triples and a .997 OPS. If he could combine this with several seasons of at least All Star-level contact hitting, he might have a shot at Cooperstown. It worked for Rod Carew; Paul Waner, too.

The key would be for Walker to make the majors sooner than he did in real life and DH at the end of his career instead of returning to the minors and starring once more. Ralph Branca noted in the Branca autobiography, “Minor league success was in no way a guarantee of ever playing in the big leagues. Many guys against their will made careers out of playing in the high minors…. The guys heading up the organizations thought having veteran players around on the Triple-A teams and lower ones was good for the young kids.” This generally doesn’t happen anymore.

And of course, Walker could never have a finger wagging performance in front of Congress, a la Palmeiro. I’m giving Walker the benefit of the doubt here.

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: Albert Pujols, Bad News Rockies, Barry Bonds, Bob Caruthers, Bob Feller, Bob Watson, Dom DiMaggio, Frank Howard, Fritz Maisel, George Case, Harmon Killebrew, Home Run Baker, Jack Clark, Jackie Robinson, Jimmy Wynn, Joe DiMaggio, Johnny Frederick, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Lefty O’Doul, Nate Colbert, Pete Rose, Rickey Henderson, Roberto Clemente, Sam Thompson, Sandy Koufax, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Stan Musial, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb, Willie Mays

In 1956, Sport Magazine surveyed all 16 major league managers to find out who they picked as their most reliable clutch hitters.

For the most part, the answers were predictable. Casey Stengel chose Yogi Berra; Pinky Higgins, Ted Williams; Bill Rigney, Willie Mays and Fred Hutchinson, Stan Musial.

Some responses were surprising. Cincinnati Redlegs’ pilot Birdie Tebbetts picked Johnnie Temple instead of Ted Kluszewski and Frank Robinson while Bucky Harris tapped Ray Boone over Al Kaline or perennial .300 hitter Harvey Kuenn.

One pick was incomprehensible. Washington Senators’ manager Chuck Dressen selected Ernie Oravetz. Don’t feel badly if you don’t remember or never heard of Oravetz, a 145 pound, 5’4” reserve outfielder who in his two year career (1955-1956), hit no home runs and only batted in 36 runners. Adding to the oddity of Dressen’s choice, in 1955, Ortavetz hit .171 in 35 pinch hit appearances. By the end of 1956, Ortavez was out of baseball for good.

Maybe Dressen was having fun at reporter Milton Richmond’s expense. What Dressen told Richmond for the record was: “For a kid his size, he certainly did a man’s job in the clutch.”

Looking at the 1956 Senators’ roster, Dressen had several hitters that his 15 managerial peers certainly would have picked over Ortavez in critical situations: Clint Courtney, Pete Runnels (a future two-time batting champion), Roy Sievers (the 1957 American League home run and RBI leader), Jim Lemon (back-to-back 100 RBI seasons in 1959 and 1960) and the incomparable Hall of Famer slugger Harmon Killebrew who before he hung up his spikes would hit 537 four-baggers with 40 or more eight times

The sad news that Killebrew is suffering from deadly esophageal cancer has put him in the forefront of our thoughts and prayers.

In 1956, Killebrew was three years away from his break out 1959 season when he blasted 42 homers and knocked in 102. By 1960, Killebrew appeared on the cover of the Senators’ yearbook.

Here, in part, is how the Senators’ described Killebrew who still had 16 spectacular baseball years ahead of him:

Baseball’s most exciting new figure, Harmon burst into full stardom last year. He smashed 29 homers in the first three months and for a while threatened many of Babe Ruth’s home run records for a season. His tape measure clouts earned him the starting job for the American League in the All Star Game in Pittsburgh.

Harmon himself was so outstanding a high school footballer that he received a number of collegiate scholarship offers. The original Harmon Clayton Killebrew, grandfather of the star third baseman, was a legendary strongman, reputed to have been the heavy weight wrestling champion of the Illinois detachment of the Union Army during the Civil War.

During emotionally trying times when family and old friends struggle for their lives, we can often find comfort in remembering them during younger, happier days.

I recently picked up a copy of Bobby Bragan’s autobiography and have been reading bits of it. I came across a passage early on where Bragan talks about the World Series champion Cincinnati Reds of 1940 and great Reds pitchers like Bucky Walters, Paul Derringer, and Johnny Vander Meer, and it occurred to me that none of the men are in the Hall of Fame. In fact, no one who threw so much as one pitch for Cincinnati in 1940 is in Cooperstown. With the Baseball Writers Association of America set to announce on Wednesday who it will enshrine this summer, I decided to look for other great pitching staffs without any Hall of Famers.

It’s an interesting task. From what I found, teams often have at least a future Hall of Fame pitcher or two, and for teams that historically have not, the occasional position player has taken the mound and disqualified them from consideration here, like Ty Cobb with the Tigers in 1925 or Jimmie Foxx with the Phillies in 1945 or George Sisler with the Browns in 1920, 1925, and again in 1926. To rate a possible mention here, a team generally had to have a collection of ordinary pitchers putting up career numbers. Some of the best staffs I found thrived without much offensive support, either.

What follows is my list of 10 of the best pitching staffs without any Hall of Famers. I chose to look at teams between 1920 and 1990, since I didn’t want to consider anyone from the Deadball Era and before or have a list front-loaded with recent or current pitchers. I loosely related my picks to stats like win-loss record, ERA, ERA+ (how the team’s ERA compared to other teams that year), WHIP (walks plus hits divided by innings pitched) and SO/9 (strikeouts divided by nine innings) though I didn’t adhere rigidly to stats. Where’s the fun in that?

Anyhow, here are my ten:

1. 1942 St. Louis Cardinals: From 1938-1951, St. Louis did not have a Hall of Fame pitcher. No matter. With the exception of 1938, St. Louis kept its ERA under 4.00 and its record above .500 every year of this run. In 1942, the pitching peaked. National League champion St. Louis’s 2.55 ERA and 136 ERA+ would be fine work for one pitcher, let alone a staff. At the top of the rotation, Johnny Beazley went 21-6 and staff ace Mort Cooper finished 22-7 with a 1.78 ERA and a well-deserved National League Most Valuable Player award.

2. 1968 Detroit Tigers: On individual achievement alone, this staff would rate highly due to Denny McLain’s 31 win-season and Mickey Lolich’s triumphant World Series performance. As a staff, these Tigers were also outstanding, posting a 2.71 ERA, 1.118 WHIP and 6.7 SO/9. It’s why Detroit went 103-59 and prevailed in the Series over the Cardinals despite hitting .235 as a team.

3. 1986 New York Mets: One of the deepest pitching staffs in baseball history, the ’86 World Champion Mets starting rotation went a combined 76-30 with Dwight Gooden, Ron Darling, Bobby Ojeda, and Sid Fernandez each finishing with at least 15 wins. Gooden, Darling, and Ojeda also had ERAs below 3.00. In the bullpen, Jesse Orosco and Roger McDowell each contributed 20-save seasons.

4. 1944 St. Louis Browns: I challenge anyone reading to name a Browns pitcher from the only year the team went to the World Series before moving to Baltimore and becoming the Orioles. St. Louis’s collection of no-names went 89-65 with a 3.17 ERA and four top starters who combined to go 62-37. The strong pitching compensated for an offense that hit .252 in a hitters park and was devoid of stars, save for shortstop Vern Stephens.

5. 1940 Cincinnati Reds: Like the ’68 Tigers, the Reds won a World Series with several pitchers who could at least be in the Hall of Very Good, namely Derringer, Vander Meer, and Walters. Vander Meer, who pitched back-to-back no hitters in 1938, was injured most of 1940, though Derringer and Walters each won 20 games and accounted for all of the Reds victories in the World Series.

6. 1972 Pittsburgh Pirates: The Pirates just missed the World Series in 1972 with a rotation free of any pitchers close to making Cooperstown. Two of the Pirates’ best starters in 1972, Steve Blass and Dock Ellis may have each had Hall of Fame talent, but Blass mysteriously lost his ability to pitch shortly thereafter, and Ellis’ career was curtailed by substance abuse, though he once pitched a no-hitter on acid.

7. 1985 Los Angeles Dodgers: It would have seemed unlikely in the 1980s that between Dwight Gooden, Orel Hershiser, and Fernando Valenzuela, none would be enshrined today. In 1985, they did some of their best work, with Gooden winning a Cy Young for the Mets and Dodger teammates Valenzuela finishing 17-10 with a 2.45 ERA and Hershiser going 19-3 with a 2.03 ERA.

8. 1922 St. Louis Browns: The Browns’ 3.38 ERA, 1.556 WHIP, and 2.46 SO/9 would seem pedestrian here, but it was outstanding for the time, when hitters ruled, strikeout totals were low, and ERAs high. St. Louis’s staff ERA+ of 123 is the third-highest total here, behind the ’42 Cardinals and ’40 Reds.

9. 1972 Minnesota Twins: A young Bert Blyleven somehow won 17 games, along with posting a 2.73 ERA and 228 strikeouts for a Twins team that scored just 537 runs, hit .244 and finished 77-77. Blyleven was the best thing going on a pitching staff that had a 2.84 ERA and a 1.166 WHIP. Blyleven also may be the first player discussed in this post to disqualify his team from future consideration here, if he gets an expected call from Cooperstown on Wednesday.

10. 1933 Boston Braves: The Great Depression severely impacted the Braves, who were lucky to break .500 in this time and nearly went out of business. But at the low point of the Depression, a Braves team that hit .252 and scored just 552 runs finished 83-71 largely on the strength of defense and pitching. Boston posted a 2.96 team ERA and featured 18-game winner Ed Brandt and 20-game winner Ben Cantwell.

The following article was written by Gerry Garte

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Two unexpected visitors met at the World Series last season. The Giants and Rangers made it an amazing year. Roy Halladay and Josh Hamilton were exceptional. The pitching was no-hit strong.

It will be tough to match the excitement of the 2010 season. But add your team — Giants not included — to the top of the mix in ‘11, and the excitement doubles.

Many Major League records were set in 2010. Here are my favorites:

• Most consecutive seasons of 30 or more HRs at the start of a career, 10 seasons, Albert Pujols
• Most consecutive seasons of 100 or more RBI at the start of a career, 10 seasons, Albert Pujols
• Most consecutive  seasons with 200 or more hits at the start of a career, 10 seasons, Ichiro Suzuki
• Most pinch hit home runs in a career, 23, Matt Stairs
• Most consecutive hits in an inning, 11, 8^th inning, Colorado Rockies

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Baseball is the greatest of games, but it’s the administration of the game that’s been a work in progress. Putting dollar signs aside, here are two recommendations to improve the game:

o   Let kids enjoy more of the World Series

When I was a kid, Madie Ives Elementary School knew the importance of the World Series, particularly on a school day. The people in charge figured it’d be a good idea to turn on the two cafeteria TVs for the kids and teachers having a late lunch. We’d watch pre-game and part of the first inning before heading back to class. When the final bell rang, I was either biking or running home. I got there about the fifth or sixth inning. It was great, and the TV was all mine. The parents were at work, and my sister was out. Life was good. Series games in the daytime were outstanding. Then TV made its play, and by the late ‘80s World Series games were played exclusively at night, running well past many bedtimes.

What I’d like to see in 2011: Baseball deciding in the near future to play two of the first four World Series games during daytime. Opening game of the World Series would become a significant daytime event. When the Series shifted, either Game 3 or Game 4 would be a day game. It will bring more of the best baseball to more youngsters.

o   Raise standards for the wood in bats

I’m repeating myself, but it’s worth repeating. Shattering and splintering wood bats have been a growing health hazard to pro ballplayers the past few years. Last season, 2010, included a sobering moment on a Major League diamond. It happened when Tyler Colvin of the Cubs was impaled by a shattered bat in Miami. The wood pierced his upper chest and fell to the ground. It was not life-threatening, but he missed the last two weeks of the season. A few days later, Cliff Lee of the Rangers was nicked behind the ear by a splintered bat. It drew little blood, but it was a very close call.  I took it as another warning to baseball to establish stricter standards for the wood in bats, and the bat-making process. How many issues can be more important than player safety?

What I’d like to see in 2011: New standards to reduce shattered bats by 80% in the first year.

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My first game: July 1962, 11 years old, my parents, sister and I were in Dorchester, outside Boston, visiting my grandparents. The New York Yankees were also in town. So my Dad got tickets and took me. Funny thing, not so funny, he left one of the two tickets on top of the TV set in my grandparents’ apartment. We found this out at the Fenway Park gate. Out of my view, the issue was resolved, and my Dad smoothly took us to our seats in right field. My first look at a Major League field was majestic. There was a bright green below — spreading to the leftfield monster – and clear blue above. The baseball diamond, at any playing age, was gladly familiar. There were many home runs in the game. The one I remember was by Mickey Mantle to right center. By age 30, Mantle was a legend. The Yankees won the game, 12-4.  It was a wonderful first Big League experience.

–Gerry Garte (Dad:  Sam Garte, age 93)

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This article was written by Gerry Garte

What he did: File Watson with Jimmy Wynn, Frank Howard, and Nate Colbert as another player who might have been a Hall of Famer in a different era. Watson hit .295 with 184 home runs and a lifetime OPS+ of 129 in 19 seasons from 1966 to 1984, playing his best seasons in a time and ballpark that favored pitchers. His name came up in a Baseball Think Factory forum discussion this week on Cooperstown. Someone mentioned George Kelly, noting, “His closest BBREF cop is, as Bill James pointed out, Bob Watson, who played his prime in the Astrodome and actually out OPS+s Kelly by 20 points.”

Playing his prime seasons in an inversely stronger era for hitters, Kelly put up roughly the same offensive stats as Watson. Kelly’s .297 career batting average, 109 OPS+ and 24.3 career WAR rank him as one of the weakest players in Cooperstown, and were it not for Frankie Frisch lobbying to get several of his teammates into the Hall of Fame while he served as head of the Veterans Committee, it seems unlikely Kelly would have a plaque. So, I must ask: what if Watson got the same opportunities as Kelly?

Era he might have thrived in: Kelly played 16 seasons between 1915 and 1932. Were Watson to play these years, his numbers might compare to Charlie Gehringer or Earl Averill: batting average about .320, 200 home runs, and an OPS+ around 130. Not every 1920s and ’30s player with these general stats is enshrined, but many are. Watson, a two-time All Star who got 0.7 percent of the Hall of Fame vote his only year on the ballot, would probably have received at least far greater consideration had his career occurred fifty years earlier.

Why: The past 40 years has seen a revolution in baseball research led by James. We know now that a .330 batting average from 1932 when hitters ruled is far different than the same clip from 1968 when pitchers dominated. But for all the research advances, voting for Cooperstown is only slightly more enlightened. It’s better with the writers than with the Veterans Committee which recently favored Dave Concepcion over statistically-superior candidate Ted Simmons, but voting still generally lacks context. The Hall of Fame doesn’t deal in hypotheticals, in what might have been had circumstances been fairer.

What still remains the greatest Hall of Fame determinants are traditional stats, and Watson would rack them up playing in the greatest offensive period in baseball history short of the steroid era. He’d clean up playing on a Giants team packed with future Hall of Famers like Bill Terry, Mel Ott, and Frisch, not to mention all the men Frisch later enshrined. I also doubt the cavernous Polo Grounds would be anything Watson hadn’t already encountered playing in the Astrodome, which I assume is now being used to park jets in the absence of baseball.

To give an example of what Watson missed with his era, his 1976 season with the Astros would convert to 1925 with the Giants here. His stats from each of those years are listed below as well as Kelly’s 1925 numbers:

	G	AB	R	H	2B	3B	HR	RBI	SB	BB	SO	BA	OBP	SLG
Watson ’76 Astros	157	585	76	183	31	3	16	102	3	62	64	.313	.377	.458
Watson ’25 Giants	149	593	97	211	36	3	18	129	3	71	61	.356	.423	.518
Kelly ’25 Giants	147	586	87	181	29	3	20	99	5	35	54	.309	.350	.471

Basically, if in some baseball version of “Freaky Friday” these men got to switch places, Watson would have a few more seasons like these, buttressed with most of his other ones above .300 and be later toasted by Frisch at a Hall of Fame dinner. Kelly would get to follow his nondescript career with a stint as general manager for George Steinbrenner and the Yankees, if he was lucky. And if Kelly was simply acting out the film version of “Freaky Friday,” he’d be Lindsay Lohan and preparing to ring in the new year at the Betty Ford Center. Some men have all the luck.

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: Albert Pujols, Bad News Rockies, Barry Bonds, Bob Caruthers, Bob Feller, Dom DiMaggio, Frank Howard, Fritz Maisel, George Case, Harmon Killebrew, Home Run Baker, Jack Clark, Jackie Robinson, Jimmy Wynn, Joe DiMaggio, Johnny Frederick, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Lefty O’Doul, Nate Colbert, Pete Rose, Rickey Henderson, Roberto Clemente, Sam Thompson, Sandy Koufax, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Stan Musial, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb, Willie Mays

In February, Humm-Baby will turn 81. I don’t want 2010, the year of the San Francisco Giants, to end without a tribute to Roger Craig who piloted the team from 1986 to 1992.

Under Craig’s direction and propelled by Will Clark (.333, 23 HRs and 111 RBIs) and Kevin Mitchell (.291, 47, 125), the 1989 Giants won the National League pennant.

But despite his managerial achievements, Craig is best remembered as a pitcher—particularly a pitcher for the early, pathetic New York Mets.

In the original expansion draft held on October 10 1961, Craig was a first pool, $75,000 pick. Despite being called “first pool,” the best players available were actually the “premium” level which cost the new franchises $125,000.

But since Craig had posted two decent seasons with Los Angeles in 1959 and 1960 (11-5, 2.06; 8-3, 3.27) by relying on the pitch he developed, the split fingered fastball, the Mets’ felt he was worth a shot.

In a sense, the Mets’ gamble paid off. During the Mets’ first two seasons Craig, as the staff’s “ace,” gave his team plenty of innings. In 1962 and 1963, Craig started 64 games and relieved in another 24 for a total of 469 innings pitched.

Unfortunately, since Craig toiled for the Mets’, he also racked up back to back seasons of 10-24 and 5-22. Craig became the first National League pitcher to lose 20 games in back to back seasons since Paul Derringer in 1933 and 1934 and the first New York hurler to have the same misfortune since Brooklyn’s Harry McIntyre in 1905 and 1906.

In 1963, Craig lost 22 consecutive games. On April 29, Craig beat the Dodgers for his second win of the young season. Craig didn’t win again until August 9 against the Chicago Cubs.

Sadly, despite trying everything including changing his uniform number from 38 to 13, Craig couldn’t catch a break. Of Craig’s 22 losses, five came by 1-0 scores. Finally, Craig got lucky. With the Cubs game tied at 3-3, a bottom of the ninth grand slam home run by Mets’ third baseman Jim Hickman took Craig out of his misery and put his record at 3-20.

Immediately, Craig’s sour luck returned. To put his season total at 22 losses, Craig was out dueled in his next two starts by the Houston Colt .45s’ Don Nottebart and the Dodgers’ Sandy Koufax by scores of—you guessed it—1-0.

When last heard from, Craig had retired to his horses at the Humm Baby Ranch in the Laguna Mountains northeast of San Diego. If you’re looking for Craig, just drive to the intersection of Humm Baby Way and Roger and Carolyn Place. Who knows? When you find him, maybe Craig will show you how to throw a split fingered fast ball.