In crafting this week’s edition of “Card Corner,” I wanted to come up with a player common to the two franchises facing each other in this week’s Division Series. I thought about picking Chuck Knoblauch, but his career-altering battles with the yips and his recent marital and legal problems have left a bad taste on the tongue. I thought about Luis Tiant and Jim Kaat, but their Yankee careers were simply too short. Ultimately, the choice of Graig Nettles feels like the right one. A supreme defender and infield acrobat, a clutch power hitter, and a wit of champion proportions, Nettles remains one of my favorite old Yankees and a clear-cut link to the two earliest world championship teams of the Steinbrenner regime.

It’s easy to forget that Nettles began his career with the Twins, and not the Yankees or the Indians, the team that handed him off to New York during the winter of 1972. The Twins originally drafted Nettles during the summer of 1965, the first year of Major League Baseball’s amateur draft, but he did not make his professional debut until the following season. Playing as a third baseman for Single-A Wisconsin Rapids, Nettles showed a powerful touch from the start, hitting 28 home runs. That performance earned him a promotion to Double-A in 1967, where he struggled against more advanced pitching and saw his slugging percentage fall under .400. Yet, the Twins saw enough to give him a late-season audition in Minnesota before bumping him to Triple-A Denver in 1968. Starring for the minor league Bears, Nettles slugged .534, batted a career-high .297, and showed himself ready for another mid-season call up.

The Twins liked Nettles’ left-handed bat, but they had enough questions about his glove work to move him to the outfield during his lone season in Denver. So when Nettles arrived at the Twins’ spring training site in 1969, he was listed as an “outfielder/infielder.” Yes, one of the finest fielding third basemen in the game’s history was originally billed as some kind of utility player. (Note that Nettles 1969 Topps rookie card lists him strictly as an outfielder.) It was reminiscent of the career of Brooks Robinson, who had started his professional career as a second baseman before the Orioles made the sage decision to slide him to the hot corner.

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Like pitch counts and innings limits, rest has become the new obsession in baseball. Or at least it has with the Yankees. “The Yankees need to rest up for the playoffs. The Yankees, an older team, need their rest. It’s more important for the Yankees to rest than go all-out for the division.” I hear these comments again and again, from the fans to the media to some members of the Yankees themselves.

Enough already. Rest? If this team has any more rest, I will be ready for a rest home come wintertime.

Frankly, I never heard so much about the notion of resting for the postseason prior to the advent of the wildcard in 1995. Prior to that, teams had to go all-out just to win the division and qualify for the postseason. They could rest come November. But for the past 15 seasons, teams like the Yankees have often had the wild card as a fallback option. And historically speaking, wild card teams fare just as well in terms of reaching the World Series as division winners, so there is some justification for the philosophy of rest. Just as it is important to set up your postseason rotation so that your two best starters are pitching the first two games of the ALDS.

Yet, like pitch counts and innings limits, the idea of resting players can go too far. Way too far. Joe Girardi has been extraordinarily guilty of this. On two occasions this year, he has given Alex Rodriguez days off on Sundays, despite the fact that the Yankees just had an off day the preceding Thursday. What, is A-Rod no longer capable of playing three consecutive games? Girardi is trying too hard to be the anti-Leo Durocher.

Then there is Jorge Posada, who has caught a grand total of 76 games this season. I understand that Posada is a 40-year-old catcher, but he does not have the body of Bengi Molina or, for us older folks, Smoky Burgess. Posada is well conditioned and strong enough to go behind the plate at least 90 to 95 times a season. Instead, we have had to endure all too often the non-hitting spectacle of Francisco Cervelli, who has made Jake Gibbs look like Yogi Berra by comparison.

Another example of “overresting” (there actually is no such word, though Girardi is trying hard to change that) can be found in the bullpen. Over the last two weeks, Girardi has repeatedly bypassed Joba Chamberlain, David Robertson, and Kerry Wood for the dubious likes of Chad Gaudin, Sergio Mitre, and Dustin Moseley–this despite the fact that none of the “big three” has pitched in as many as 70 games this season.

Of all the Yankee players, only two can possibly be considered fatigued at this juncture of the season. They are Robinson Cano and Derek Jeter, who have missed a combined six games this summer. No one else should have any reason to be tired. All of the other position players have missed a sufficient number of games, whether because of nagging injuries, a stint on the disabled list, or just plain rest. Not even CC Sabathia has been overworked; he is on pace to finish with only the fourth highest innings total of his career.

Simply put, the Yankees have no reason to rely on the crutch of being tired this October. If they fall short against the Twins, the Rangers, or the Rays, I don’t want to hear anyone say that it happened because they were “tired.” I just don’t want to hear it…

***

“The Grandy Man can! The Grandy Man can!” Believe it or not, I heard John Sterling’s vaudeville home run call for Curtis Granderson for the first time this week. Where have I been all season long? Well, I usually follow the Yankees on YES, and not over the radio waves. And often, when I’m trying to tune in to the Yankees in the car, the AM radio signal doesn’t make it to these parts in central New York.

How is any of this relevant? Well, it really isn’t, but ever since Granderson retooled his stance and swing with the help of Kevin Long, while learning to keep both hands on the bat during his follow-through, he has become an offensive force. Don’t look now, but Granderson has a better OPS (.780 to .763) than Austin “Action” Jackson, the man for whom he was traded. Granderson has drawn unfavorable comparisons to Jackson all summer long, but those comparisons don’t add up. Given his power, his ability to draw walks, and the very fine defense that he has played in center field, the Yankees are actually better off with Grandy in 2010 than they would have been with Jackson.

An excellent defender himself, Jackson may end up winning the American League Rookie of the Year, but that’s in large part because of the weak competition in the league’s freshman class. Jackson has hit with little power, strikes out way too much for a singles hitter, and lacks the patience of an ideal leadoff man. If he were still playing for the Yankees, we would hear no end to these faults.

Let’s face it, The Grandy Man has been the better player.

Bruce Markusen writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for The Hardball Times.

Over the summer, I had a chance to chat with former Yankee Ron Blomberg, who spent Hall of Fame Weekend here in Cooperstown. Talking to Ron is always a good experience. One of the most affable players I’ve ever met, he is full of positive vibes and ceaseless energy. He seems to have the same level of vigor as he did in his twenties, when he was trying to establish himself as the next great left-handed hitter in Yankee history.

At the time, Blomberg’s smooth right-field swing seemed perfectly tailored for the old Yankee Stadium. In particular, “Boomer” tormented right-handed pitchers, especially those who dared to throw him fastballs. During the 1973 season, he flirted with a .400 batting average in early summer before eventually tailing off. If only Blomberg had been able to avoid the knee problems that eventually shortened his career, he might have become the Jewish superstar that Yankee management had been anticipating since drafting him with the first overall pick in 1967.

While injuries and defensive foibles at first base prevented him from achieving such fame, he did gain special notoriety on Opening Day in 1973. That’s when he came to bat as the first designated hitter in major league history. Facing Luis Tiant of the Red Sox, Blomberg walked in his first plate appearance–and walked right into a permanent place in baseball reference books.

While his status as the game’s first DH has become common knowledge to most fans, it was Blomberg’s off-the-field ability that became well known to baseball insiders and members of the media. Boomer could eat enormously large quantities of food, above and beyond any other major league player of his era. Here’s one example. After one road game, Blomberg sat down and consumed ten steak sandwiches, assisted by a quart of lemonade. By the time that Blomberg made his first road trip into Boston, a local Beantown newspaper featured the delightful headline, “Close Up The Delicatessens, Blomberg’s In Town.”

Especially devoted to fast food, Blomberg regularly consumed four to five large hamburgers during visits to Burger King and did similar damage on sojourns to Kentucky Fried Chicken outlets. “We would go out and eat an entire bucket of KFC,” Blomberg once said proudly. A 3000-calorie meal was an ordinary accomplishment for the insatiable Blomberg. As part of one particularly memorable meal, Blomberg downed 28 (yes, 28!) hamburgers, establishing some sort of unofficial record.

With Blomberg’s reputation as a voracious eater established early in his career, Yankee left-hander Fritz Peterson (another summer visitor to Cooperstown) issued his teammate a challenge. He dared Blomberg to eat five exceedingly spicy jalapeno peppers at one time. Peterson himself feared eating even one of the zesty peppers; he considered the prospects of anyone eating five a downright impossibility. Confident that no one could pull off such a feat, Peterson offered Blomberg a small sum of money if he could successfully handle the fire-breathing snack. Peterson then watched in amazement as Blomberg consumed all five peppers within a matter of seconds. For his efforts, Blomberg won $10 from a disbelieving Peterson.

In spite of his eating habits, Blomberg maintained a trim physique throughout his major league career, with his weight rarely exceeding 185 pounds on a lean but powerful six-foot, one-inch frame. So how did Boomer do it? “We didn’t have personal trainers standing over us,” Blomberg said. “We had no rowing machines. We did construction in the off season. Put in sod. I ran the stairs at Columbia and Fordham University, since I was living in Riverdale at that time. I would run around the block with those ankle bracelets on.”

Blomberg liked to run by himself, but usually found company at the lunch and dinner tables. His list of fellow diners included voluminous eaters like Yankee teammate Walt “No Neck” Williams. Williams and two other Yankees regularly accompanied Blomberg on trips to well-known hamburger chains, where they gladly consumed hamburgers at the bargain basement prices of the early 1970s. “We had Burger King, when the burgers were 39 cents,” Blomberg explained. “We would have four of ‘em for under two bucks. Gene Michael, Jerry Kenney, No-Neck Williams—we would go out and eat together.”

While Blomberg, Kenney, and Michael were all relatively tall and lean—Michael was appropriately nicknamed “Stick”—Williams provided a contrasting view. At five feet, six inches and 190 pounds, Williams featured the physique of a fireplug. Known as a hustling pepper-pot player on the field, Williams treated the art of eating with as much gusto off the field. But he could not match Blomberg in terms of the sheer amount of food consumption.

Later in his Yankee career, Blomberg came into contact with another legendary eater, a man better known for his larger-than-life Afro. Oscar Gamble, who joined the Yankees in 1976, routinely downed eggs, pancakes, and sausage for breakfast. Gamble also developed a special appreciation for the clubhouse spreads offered at various American League ballparks. His stadium lunches included ham sandwiches, hamburgers, ribs, soups, and a variety of cheeses.

After games, Gamble liked to sample local restaurants around the American League for their various dinner fares. He particularly enjoyed trips to Milwaukee, which featured soul food. Gamble loved collard greens, candied yams, and peach cobblers.

With men like Gamble and Williams providing an appropriate level of companionship and encouragement on the food line, Blomberg cemented his standing as a champion eater. That ability, along with a growing reputation, carried over after his retirement from the game. Not so surprisingly, Blomberg became the first major league player to have a sandwich named after him at the famed Stage Delicatessen in New York City. Known simply as the “Ron Blomberg,” the large triple-decker sandwich consists of a combination of corned beef, pastrami, and chopped liver with a Bermuda onion thrown in for good measure.

I could do without the chopped liver, but the rest of the sandwich sounds pretty good to me. Perhaps one day the “Ron Blomberg” will qualify for an episode of “Taster’s Cherce.”

Bruce Markusen likes to dine at Cooperstown area restaurants like Nicoletta’s and the Hawkeye Grill.

As much as we might try to think otherwise, race does figure into how we perceive ballplayers. White players tend to remind us of white players, and black players remind us of other black players. I’m not sure if that’s wrong, but I am convinced that’s the way it is.

Along those lines, I’ve finally figured out who Ivan Nova reminds me of, not only in terms of appearance but also his delivery. It took me four turns through the rotation; I should have known earlier, given how few black right-handers the Yankees have employed as starters over the years. Let’s see, there was Dock Ellis in the seventies, Charles Hudson in the eighties, Pascual Perez and Doc Gooden in the nineties, Shawn Chacon more recently…and that’s about it. But none of those guys really remind me of Nova. Instead, it’s the now forgotten Melido Perez, Pascual’s younger brother and one of the few bright spots during the lean years of the early 1990s. Both pitchers are listed at six feet, four inches, with Nova outweighing Perez by about 20 pounds, 210 to 190.

At one time, specifically 1992, Melido Perez looked like the future ace of the rotation. He threw a good fastball, but tamed hitters with a killer forkball, a delivery that tormented left-handed and right-handed batters alike. Unfortunately, he threw so many of the forkballs that he ended up losing velocity, hurt his arm, and faded into retirement one year before the arrival of the glory years in 1996.

While Nova’s appearance and motion remind me of Perez, his repertoire of pitches differs from his predecessor. He doesn’t throw a forkball, instead relying on an explosive mid-90s fastball and a terrific overhand curve. Nova has drawn some
criticism for his lack of strikeouts during his minor league climb, but I’m not concerned given the quality of his stuff. If he can have the success that Chien-Ming Wang had over the first three years of his career, but avoid breaking his foot while running the bases, the Yankees will be pleased with the results.

They must be thrilled with what they’ve seen so far; Nova has pitched well in three out of four starts, with just the one clunker against the bashing Blue Jays. He has pitched capably enough to be thrown into the mix for the back end of the postseason rotation. Let’s assume that Andy Pettitte returns and gives the Yankees what they expect from a No. 2 starter behind CC Sabathia. That leaves the third and fourth starters up for grabs, with Phil Hughes, A.J. Burnett, Javier Vazquez, and Dustin Moseley trying to box each other out for position. From my vantage point, Hughes seems like a cinch for the No. 3 spot; for all of his second-half struggles, his season ERA is still significantly better than Burnett and Vazquez, and his starts often produce the minimum requirement of a quality start (six innings, three runs).

That leaves one spot open for the playoff rotation. So who gets it? Let’s eliminate Moseley, who is lacking both in stuff and postseason experience. Similarly, I don’t want to see Vazquez anywhere near a mound at the beginning of a postseason game. His diminished fastball, along with his glaring inability to compensate for it, make him qualified for nothing more than long man out of the bullpen.

That leaves us with Burnett and Nova. If Burnett can show improvement in his last four starts, I’d be willing to give him the nod. He pitched well in half of his postseason starts last year and still has the firepower to shut down an opponent for seven innings. If Burnett doesn’t improve, then I’d lean toward Nova. Unlike Burnett, Nova has the element of surprise working for him. The Yankees’ potential first round opponents, the Twins and Rangers, don’t have much of a book against Nova. The Rangers have never seen Nova, while the Twins faced him for the grand total of one inning back in May. Working against these lineups for essentially the first time, Nova could have a decided advantage, especially for one or two turns through the batting order…

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The Topps Company produced 11 different cards of Lou Piniella as a Yankee, ranging from a capless 1974 traded card to his final 1984 card, but the one shown here is my favorite. Part of the wondrous 1980 set, the card shows Piniella near the completion of one of his typically sweet swings. Looking at the position of his bat, it appears that Piniella has just used his patented opposite field swing to drop a line drive (or a bloop) into right field. Action cards are always the most desirable to have, but especially when they give you a snapshot of a player doing something for which he is best known. And I’ll always remember Piniella best for that flat, line-drive swing that often seemed pointed directly toward right field.

I feel a little bit sad now that Piniella has retired from the game, a game that he has served for 50 years, in a decision that was expedited last month. We had all expected that “Sweet Lou” would finish out the season with the Cubs before stepping aside, but his elderly mother’s illness mandated that he retire immediately. Family comes first, a decision made easier when the Cubs are hopelessly lost in the National League Central. It’s not as if Piniella was abandoning a team in the midst of a pennant race; if anything, he may have given the franchise a lift by allowing the Cubs to evaluate their interim manager, the unusually pronounced Mike Quade, as a potential fulltime replacement for 2011.

In some ways, Piniella was one of the last of a breed: the colorful and fiery manager. He spoke bluntly with the press–often too bluntly–and argued fervently with umpires–sometimes too much so. But with those qualities, he brought some old-fashioned personality to the table, a mix of John McGraw and Billy Martin, with a little Fred Hutchinson tossed in for good measure. (Hutchinson was simultaneously loved and feared by his players. After giving up a game-ending home run, one of Hutchinson’s pitchers refused to walk back to the dugout to face his manager. He instead walked toward the center field exit.) So many of today’s new managers are cut out of the same mold; they engage in politically correct managerspeak, afraid to ever criticize their players for poor play, and they stand motionless, even emotionless, in the dugout, while passively observing the game in front of them. I have trouble telling many of the new breed managers apart from one another: Manny Acta, Bob Geren, Ken Macha, Brad Mills. I know that they’re all intelligent baseball men, but they’re also so bland, so indistinct, so seemingly interchangeable.

I guess maybe they have to be that way, especially if they don’t have strong major league playing resumes to fall back on, like Piniella. Managers have never had it more difficult than they have it today. The salaries of the players dwarf their pay so many times over that they have been rendered virtually powerless. They can’t publicly scold their players, whose egos simply will not permit it. And they’re afraid to say anything minutely controversial in their interviews with the press, out of the fear that their words could be misconstrued or twisted into the latest installment of a never-ending soap opera.

Piniella was different; he just didn’t care about repercussions. As a longtime player, he had a body of work to fall back on, 18 seasons as a big league outfielder, in case his players sassed him. Unlike previous targets like John Boles and Fredi Gonzalez, he had played the game at the highest level, with a couple of world championship rings as proof. Piniella didn’t worry about becoming embroiled in controversies; if anything, he seemed to embrace the excitement brought about by the conflict.

Now sometimes Piniella went too far. He picked fights with reporters when they posed legitimate questions. He kicked dirt on umpires, something that no arbiter, no matter how incompetent, should have to endure. He could come across as a spoiled, petulant child, like he did two years ago when he carried on about the “suffering” the Cubs had to endure having to play in the Hall of Fame Game in mid-June while in the midst of a pennant race. So yes, Piniella could take his act of fire and brimstone too far, sometimes making himself smaller in the process.

Yet, on the whole, Lou Piniella as a manager was good for baseball. He taught hitters like few others I’ve ever seen, with his prized students including Don Mattingly and Edgar Martinez. Though he often lacked patience with his pitchers, he motivated most of his players, through his energy and his constant call for professionalism. He won a ton of games along the way, culminating in an unlikely world championship for the 1990 Reds. He had a degree of success everywhere, with the one exception being Tampa Bay, where only Joe Maddon has found the way. And let’s not forget that he brought some much-desired verve and allure to the dugout, where the manager is still the boss, even if some want the players to be.

Good-bye, Lou. Enjoy that retirement. But don’t lose that personality.

Bruce Markusen writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for The Hardball Times.

Of the three players the Yankees acquired just before the July 31st trading deadline, Austin Kearns was the least heralded. He hasn’t had the career of Lance “Big Puma” Berkman, nor the fame of Kerry Wood. He has never been an All-Star, and probably never will. So it is with some degree of astonishment that Kearns has paid just as much in dividends as the rejuvenated Wood and has had substantially more impact than the injured Berkman.

In 16 games with the Yankees, Kearns has reached base 38 per cent of the time, slugged close to .500, and played flawlessly in the outfield corners. He has become a Pat Tabler force with the bases loaded, showing a knack for coming up with timely hits in the late innings. In other words, he has been exactly the kind of player the Yankees needed in attempting to bolster their outfield depth.

In some ways, Kearns reminds me of Lou Piniella, just retired as manager of the Cubs. More specifically, it’s the way that Joe Girardi has used Kearns that is reminiscent of the role that Piniella once filled in the late 1970s. Like “Sweet Lou,” Kearns plays left field one day, right field the next, and DH’s against the odd left-hander.

That’s not to say that Kearns and Piniella are the same type of players; they’re not. Kearns is a much better defensive outfielder with a stronger arm and more power; Piniella was a better contact hitter who batted for a higher average. But they are similar in that they are the kinds of outfielders who could play every day for a bad team, but should play no more than four to five times a week for a playoff contender.

Not too much, not too little. Girardi has been using Kearns just right.

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Earlier this summer, former Yankee left-hander Dennis Rasmussen visited the Cooperstown area to play in the annual Hall of Fame Classic old-timers game. A six-foot, seven-inch left-hander with a good overhand curve, Rasmussen won 91 games and posted a 4.15 ERA over a 12-year career in the major leagues. The Yankees liked Rasmussen enough to trade for him twice–once as part of a deal for Tommy John and later as part of a package for Graig Nettles. At his best, Rasmussen won 18 games for the Yankees in 1986, one of five seasons in which he won in double figures. After a four-year stint with the Yankees, Rasmussen pitched for the Reds, Padres, Cubs, and Royals.

Approachable and friendly in spite of his intimidating size, Rasmussen talked about his previous visits to Cooperstown, the way that he dealt with being traded, and his feelings toward the Yankees.

Markusen: Dennis, coming to Cooperstown, this is very much Yankee country, and you’re wearing the pinstripes, a recognizable figure from the 1980s. What does it feel like when you see so many fans who remember you from 25 years ago?

Rasmussen: Well, it’s very refreshing and humbling at the same time. New York fans were the greatest fans ever. I was fortunate to play there my first four years in the big leagues [after a brief debut with the Padres]. And they haven’t forgotten me. I was just in the city, and I ran into a couple of people that recognized me. It’s kind of amazing. It probably has to a lot to do with my size. They figure I must have done something and then recognize me.

It’s a lot of fun coming to Cooperstown. I haven’t been here since ‘98, when I was coaching in the Red Sox’ chain. And then before that, I pitched in the ’87 Hall of Fame game against the Braves, which was a big thrill. I didn’t know it at the time, but that was a make-or-break game for me. I was told to bring all my stuff to meet the Yankees and join them on a road trip. I pitched well enough to join them, I pitched seven innings, gave up one run. They told me, “Kid, you’re on the bus. You’re joining us back in New York.” So that was a big thrill.

Today was great. The clinic we did yesterday [in Cooperstown] was great. We had about 150 kids who came out for a free clinic. A great weekend.

Markusen: What did you work on with the kids at the clinic?

Rasmussen: I happened to be at the pitching station, but I’ve done a lot of different parts to the clinic. Just teaching them some of the basics, like we always do [with the Major League Baseball Players Alumni Association]. We showed them how to throw the ball, depending on how old they are; I stressed to them the importance of going to school, getting the job done in the classroom, and being a good sport.

I always enjoy asking them the question, “What is the best pitch in baseball?” They normally can’t answer. Of course, I tell them, “It’s a strike.” They like that!

Markusen: Tell us what it was like for you after you had success here, winning 18 games, and then I believe it was the following year, you’re traded to the Reds for right-hander Bill Gullickson. Was that a devastating thing that happened, was that real difficult?

Rasmussen: I wouldn’t say it was devastating. I looked at everything as a new opportunity. I was looking forward to that. I guess when you’re getting traded, somebody wants you. And I always looked at it that way.

I was there a brief time, in Cincinnati, and then went on to San Diego. I had some pretty good years there and continued to develop as a young pitcher. I looked at every place, and every release, and surely every trade, as an opportunity, and took advantage of those opportunities. That’s the nature of the game, and most of the guys will tell you that you’re going to get a series of jolts. It’s going to go up and down. You take advantages of certain opportunities at the right time, and you’ll look back at it, and you’ll have played 10, 12, 14 years.

Markusen: You can’t have too many bad feelings for the Yankees, because you’re wearing the pinstripes today.

Rasmussen: Oh, I have great feelings for them. They treated me great. I enjoy working Yankee fantasy camp. It’s a lot of fun wearing the pinstripes, plus they’re probably slenderizing. [laughing] So that might be part of it. But no, it was my first true opportunity to play in the big leagues. When I got called up in 1984, [manager] Yogi Berra said, “Kid, you’re here. You’re gonna get the ball every five days. Show us what you can do” And I did. I took every start–one pitch, one hitter, one inning at a time–and didn’t want to give up the ball every fifth day.

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For all of the Yankees’ success since purchasing George Herman Ruth in 1920, the franchise has yet to place one of its owners in the Hall of Fame. Now I suppose you could bring up the case of Larry MacPhail, but he was a part owner for only three seasons and his Yankee ownership has little to do with his Hall of Fame membership. So let’s count him out of this equation. Jacob Ruppert, despite an impressive run of success that lasted nearly two decades and totaled ten world championships, is not a member of the Hall of Fame. Dan Topping and Del Webb aren’t enshrined in the Cooperstown fraternity, either. Nor are the infamous Bill Devery and Frank Farrell. CBS certainly doesn’t have a place in the Hall, not after its reign of mediocrity from 1964 to 1973.

The absence of Yankee ownership in Cooperstown could end later this year. Although the news fell well under the radar, the Hall of Fame recently announced radical changes to its Veterans’ Committee procedures. Gone is the old system in which executives and managers were considered in odd-numbered years (2011, 2013, 2015), while old-time players were voted upon in even-numbered years (2010, 2012, 2014). Under the new system, the Vets’ Committee will consider ballots based on eras: Pre-Integration (1871 to 1946), the Golden Era (1947 to 1972), and the Expansion Era (1973 on). Golden Era candidates will be considered next year (2011) and Pre-Expansion candidates will be looked at the following year (2012).

That leaves Expansion Era candidates for this winter. So who exactly will qualify under the category of the Expansion Era? According to the Hall of Fame, Expansion Era candidates will be classified as players or executives who put forth the “greatest contributions” of their careers from 1973 on. Obviously, the late George Steinbrenner, who purchased the Yankees in 1973, would fall under the umbrella of the Expansion Era. That means that Steinbrenner would not have to wait until next winter, but could be elected to the Hall of Fame this December, with his posthumous induction potentially taking place in July of 2011. That could make for an interesting scene next summer in Cooperstown, which is a relatively short four-hour car ride from the Bronx.

Several ex-Yankee players will also be eligible for election in December. The list includes three particularly strong candidates in Graig Nettles, Tommy John, and Luis Tiant, along with an enormous longshot in Bobby Bonds. Under the new rules, the living Hall of Famers, who have been notoriously stingy in their balloting (to the point of putting in exactly ZERO players over the past decade), will no longer vote on retired players. The vote has instead been given to a 16-member committee that will be divided between writers, historians, executives, and a select few Hall of Famers. Given the new composition of the Veterans’ Committee, we can expect it to become much easier for some of the retired players to achieve the 75 per cent of the vote needed for election. Who knows, perhaps The Boss will be joined by John and Tiant in next summer’s induction class. And if the committee puts in one of my old favorites like Nettles, I might just have to buy a round at Cooley’s on Pioneer Street…

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If you play word association with the name of Fritz Peterson, then the subjects “wife-swapping” and “Mike Kekich” will come up almost immediately. But the reality is far more nuanced. Peterson was a fine major league pitcher, the possessor of 133 career victories, a 20-win campaign, and an All-Star Game berth. From 1969 to 1973, Peterson ranked as the Yankees’ No. 2 starter, situated behind only staff ace Mel Stottlemyre.

The recently-completed Hall of Fame Weekend gave me the chance to sit down with the amiable left-hander, who spent much of his time in Cooperstown signing autographs with ex-teammate Ron Blomberg at the local CVS. Immensely gracious in granting me a lengthy interview, Peterson talked about Hollywood, the late Ralph Houk, his new book, his ongoing battle with cancer, and a few of his old Topps cards.

Markusen: Fritz, let’s first talk about the movie project that you’re going to be working on; you’ll be a consultant on The Trade. What’s the latest on that?

Peterson: Well, the latest is that Ben Affleck is doing some revisions to the original screenplay that has been done by David Mandel, who’s part of the Curb Your Enthusiasm group and did a lot of stuff with Seinfeld, just a good guy. But Ben wants to be the director of it at this point, so he’s changing it a little bit the way that he wants it. So we’re just waiting to see when Matt Damon gets involved. And then we’ll go from there.

Markusen: As a consultant, I take it you’ll be on the set of the film?

Peterson: From time to time. I don’t know exactly the schedule yet.

Markusen: Is your biggest goal just to try to keep it as accurate as possible?

Peterson: Well, that would be my goal. When I was out there with the screenwriter two years ago, that’s exactly what I wanted to do, just tell 100 per cent of the truth, and I hope that it gets close to that.

Markusen: Now, Affleck’s considered a pretty good looking guy; I guess you’re flattered he’s going to be playing you.

Peterson: You know, actually, I asked them to have Matt Damon play me because Matt can throw harder [laughing], plus he’s the shorter guy and he’s got blue eyes. I have the light eyes, and Mike Kekich had the dark eyes, and was taller.

Markusen: When you were first approached about this, were you surprised that they were interested in your story, your situation, as being part of a feature film?

Peterson: I was surprised [at the interest] from the people at that level, because we’ve been offered things by people at HBO and stuff like that before. But it was never big screen and big people like this before.

They’ve been interested in this since 1999. And then in 2006, we came together on an agreement, and we’re proceeding from there.

Markusen: Final question on the film itself: any chance that you’ll make some kind of a cameo in the movie playing someone else?

Peterson: No. [laughing] I’m not going to be like Alfred Hitchcock either and be seen walking through [one of the scenes]. I’m too old and too ugly.

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Unfortunately, it sometimes takes death to resurrect the memories of retired managers and players. Such is the case with Ralph Houk, who won two world championships with the Yankees, but became a forgotten man during the George Steinbrenner Era and faded further into the distance with the success of Joe Torre. The underrated Houk, who died on Wednesday at the age of 90, deserves credit for being a patient, players-first manager who worked well in developing younger players.

Houk’s first three seasons as a manager seemingly had him ticketed for a place in the Hall of Fame. Right off the bat, he led the Yankees to world championships in 1961 and ‘62, before falling short of a third consecutive title in the 1963 World Series against the Dodgers. If Houk had guided just one other team to a world championship, whether with the Yankees, Tigers, or Red Sox, I believe we’d be celebrating him today as a resident of Cooperstown. But that third title never came. In fact, Houk never again finished first in the regular season, either a pennant or a division title, and never made it back to the World Series. His Yankee teams from his second tenure in New York simply weren’t good enough, his Tigers teams were mired in rebuilding mode after the glory years of Kaline and Cash, and his Red Sox lacked the requisite pitching to win in the early 1980s. There simply is no guarantee, no birthright, when it comes to winning it all.

As it was, two world championships put Houk in elite territory. He is one of a handful of managers with two titles who remain on the outside looking in when it comes to Cooperstown; the others are Bill Carrigan, Tom Kelly, Danny Murtaugh, and three current managers, Terry Francona, Cito Gaston, and Tony LaRussa, who are not yet eligible for the Hall of Fame. That’s pretty good company. Murtaugh deserves to be in the Hall, LaRussa will be one day, and strong arguments can be made for Francona and Gaston. One can be made for Houk, too.

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I met George Steinbrenner one time. It was at Doubleday Field about ten or 12 years ago. The Boss was in town to watch his minor league affiliate, the Oneonta Yankees, play in the annual NY-Penn League game that is part of Hall of Fame Weekend. I asked Steinbrenner if he would be willing to do an interview for the Hall of Fame’s video archive. Not only did Steinbrenner say yes to my request, but he expressed enthusiasm about the interview. He asked me my name, showing interest in what I did for the Hall of Fame. Throughout the interview, he was charming, gracious, engaging. At the end of our talk, I felt as if I had just interviewed an old friend at a college reunion. Frankly, the man could not have been nicer.

Quite obviously, George Steinbrenner treated his employees quite differently, particularly his office secretaries, public relations directors, general managers, and field managers. If I had worked for The Boss, I would have lasted about a day and a half. I suspect that I would have reacted to his first tirade with a few choice words of my own, or at least a prompt letter of resignation. Steinbrenner’s mistreatment of his underlings was one of his worst traits, a character flaw that was mocked so skillfully by Larry David in so many of those classic Seinfeld episodes.

While I can offer no defense of the way The Boss treated people in the front office, I have long been a defender of his old habit of railing against Yankee players and performance. He made an art form of critiquing slumping Yankee teams during the 1970s and eighties. My father and I found those media sessions to be great theater, often hysterically funny. And, here’s the thing, they were usually justified. When Steinbrenner issued one of his scathing assessments, they came in response to a prolonged period of poor play, seeming lack of effort, or general underachievement. He reacted just like fans would, just like fans at Bronx Banter usually do when the team fails to win.

I never felt sympathy for the players in those situations. Steinbrenner almost always paid his players well, even the backups and the middle relievers, and generally provided first- class amenities in the clubhouse, on the team’s charter, and at Yankee functions. When you make big money and enjoy the luxury of big league life, and then you don’t perform up to expectation, you have no right to complain when The Boss gets mad about it. Imagine that, a high-paying owner expecting his players to live up to their reputations and their salaries.

On a larger scale, Steinbrenner brought vivid color and personality to the owner’s box. Unlike too many of the owners in today’s corporate front office structure, Steinbrenner was passionate about his team, engrossed fully in the game as a fan, and knowledgeable about its many subtleties. As Bill Madden emphasizes in his new biography, Steinbrenner may very well be the last owner who was larger than life, a fully bloomed character.

I suspect that Madden is right. Now that The Boss is gone for good, the game has become a little less interesting.

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It’s been nearly two years to the day that Bobby Murcer left us at the age of 62. I should have accepted this tragedy by now–it should have sunk in by this time–but his passing still stings. It still hurts that Murcer is no longer part of the Yankee broadcast booth, not to mention those wonderful Old-Timers’ Day reunions.

In looking for some consolation as we approach the second anniversary of his death, I can take some solace in his 1980 Topps card. For me, this card provided concrete evidence that Murcer had indeed returned to the organization in 1979, after a six-year layoff from the Bronx. That season became a swirl of disappointment, injuries, tragedy, and melancholy, but the return of Murcer represented at least one positive development.

The good news came on June 26, exactly 11 days after the official trading deadline of June 15. In the midst of an off season with the Cubs, Murcer slipped through waivers in both leagues, allowing the Yankees to acquire him for a minor league pitching prospect named Paul Semall. A lanky right-hander, Semall had won 17 games pitching at Double-A West Haven in 1978, but lacked a bigtime fastball. He was a decent prospect, but hardly a blue chipper. As it turned out, he never pitched in the major leagues, not for the Cubs or anyone else. Still, it wouldn’t have mattered much to me if Semall had become a 15-game winner for the Cubs; I was just thrilled that Murcer had returned to pinstripes, where he belonged.

As seen on his 1980 Topps card, Murcer brought a bit of a different look to his Yankee uniform in comparison to his earlier tenure. He now wore a helmet with a protective flap, having abandoned the old-style flapless helmet that was so common in the 1960s. He also brandished a large shin guard on his right leg, something that he had not worn in his earlier days.

Perhaps the extra equipment was a testament to his advancing age. Murcer was significantly older, at least in terms of baseball years. I didn’t much care that Murcer was now 33 and had already begun the declining stage of his career. He no longer had the power to hit 20-plus home runs a season and could no longer play center field the way that he had done for much of his first tenure in the Bronx. Yet, he still had real value as a role player. I figured that if the Yankees were smart, they would use him as a part-time left-fielder, platoon DH, and pinch-hitter extraordinaire off the bench. Those roles could all be filled in 1980, by which the time the Yankees figured to reload for another run at the American League East.

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Orel Hershiser is fast becoming one of the most astute analysts on network television. In bringing some actual analysis to ESPN’s Sunday Night Baseball booth, Hershiser consistently exhibits an ability to fairly and clearly assess whatever team happens to be playing that night.

In working last Sunday’s game with the Dodgers, Hershiser pointedly discussed the Yankees’ needs as they approach the July 31st trading deadline. He pinned the tail correctly, as he listed the bullpen and the bench as the two areas the Yankees should target in trying to strengthen themselves for the final two months of the season. That runs counter to all of the columnist and beat writers who have suggested the Yankees make a priority of adding Cliff Lee to their rotation. But the acquisition of Lee would not address a weakness for the Yankees. Outside of alternating slumps by Javier Vazquez and A.J. Burnett, the Yankee rotation has been firm and formidable. There are also competent reinforcements at Triple-A Scranton/Wilkes Barre, where prospects Ivan Nova and Zack McAllister have pitched reasonably well and remain legitimate second-half options.

Additionally, the asking price for Lee figures to be high. The Mariners will almost certainly ask for Jesus Montero and possibly one other prospect in any deal for their left-handed ace. Given Lee’s age (31) and impending free agent status, Montero should stay off limits to Seattle and everyone else. Finding a solid reliever and/or a good platoon player figures to come at a far less substantial cost than a top-flight left-hander like Lee.

As Hershiser suggests, the bullpen and bench are more pressing needs for New York. With Joba Chamberlain mired in his enigmatic quagmire, and Chan Ho Park and Boone Logan continuing to occupy roster spots that they do not deserve, an effective late-inning reliever becomes a near necessity. Power-armed Mike MacDougal is now available after opting out of his minor league contract with the Nationals. On the trade front, Octavio Dotel, now with the Pirates, might be worth pursuing for a second stint in the Bronx. Or perhaps Arizona’s Chad Qualls, who has been good in recent years before falling off a cliff in 2010, would benefit from escaping the Diamondbacks’ bubonic bullpen plague.

In terms of bench concersn, the Yankees always seem to have someone facing a nagging day-to-day injury, with Brett “The Jet” Gardner the latest victim. So whom should the Yankees target for depth on the bench? The bargain basement shelf includes corner infielder Chad Tracy, recently released by the Cubs. On the trade market, Washington’s hard-hitting Josh Willingham could be an option at DH and a platoon partner for Curtis Granderson (with Brett Gardner moving over to center field). Baltimore’s Ty Wigginton would be an ever better fit. He could DH against lefties, spot Alex Rodriguez at third base on days when he needs to DH, and back up both Robinson Cano and Mark Teixeira on the right side of the infield.

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With Bill Madden’s new book on George Steinbrenner topping many of the sports bestsellers lists, it’s an appropriate time to look back on the first year of “The Boss’” reign as the game‘s most recognizable owner. That would be 1973, when the Yankees were in the midst of a 12-year absence from postseason play. Still three years removed from ending their lengthy playoff drought, the Yankees embarked on a new era not fully aware of how life would change under the thumb of “Big George.”

Coming only weeks after he purchased the franchise for less than $10 million, Steinbrenner’s first spring would not pass without major controversy, though it had nothing to do with his ability to rant and rave. The flames were instead fanned by two unconventional left-handers, Mike Kekich and Fritz Peterson, who decided the time was right to announce that they had swapped wives, children, and family pets. One could not have blamed Steinbrenner for questioning his new investment right then and there, what with 40 per cent of his projected starting rotation daring to do something that much of the civilian population would never even have considered.

The Yankees had other personnel problems, too. Their middle infielders, Horace Clarke and Gene “Stick” Michael, carried lightweight bats that would have made them utility players in today‘s game. The Yankees lacked a quality all-around right fielder, a position that featured the over-the-hill talents of Matty Alou and Johnny Callison. Their first baseman, the 38-year-old Felipe Alou (Matty’s older brother), had not been a premium player since the late sixties, when he played the outfield for the Atlanta Braves. The pitching staff, though featuring top-tier talents like Mel Stottlemyre and Sparky Lyle, lacked the depth of some of the other elite staffs in the American League and could not carry an offense that ranked tenth among 12 teams in runs scored.

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I like the journeymen. Most fans, and understandably so, gravitate toward the stars. They like the Derek Jeters, the Mark Teixeiras, and the Mariano Riveras. I like those guys, too. You don’t win world championships without star players who can carry the load for long stretches during the regular season and at critical moments in the postseason.

But I’ve always taken greater interest in the lesser players on a team, those who fill a specific role, either in a platoon or coming off the bench. That’s because those guys have to struggle, in some cases just to stay in the big leagues. Because of that, some of those players work harder than your average player. I identify with those players–whether it’s an Oscar Gamble in the 1970s and eighties, a Luis Sojo in the 1990s, or a Glenallen Hill in 2000. Just like those players, I feel I have to work hard just to keep up, whether it’s teaching, making a speech in front of strangers, or writing one of these columns. It’s a struggle for me, too. I’m no Roger Angell, but I believe I can be a solid contributor by working harder (and perhaps learning more) than the next writer.

Marcus Thames is also one of those guys. I like Marcus Thames, and not just because he sent the Red Sox home with a crushing home run in the bottom of the ninth inning on Monday night. Thames is a journeyman. He started out in the Yankee system, having to overcome the label of being a non-prospect. Somehow, he climbed to the Bronx. He hit a home run in his first major league at-bat against a tall left-hander named Randy Johnson. Still, there were people who didn’t believe in him. Still, he had to prove himself. The Yankees didn’t believe. They traded him to the Rangers for an aging Ruben Sierra. The Rangers didn’t believe either. They granted him free agency, which paved the way for Thames to travel north and sign with the Tigers.

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The Yankees simply could not have asked for more from Andy Pettitte on Saturday afternoon. Pitching for the first time since missing a start because of minor elbow inflammation, the ageless left-hander threw six and a third scoreless innings against a Twins team that must feel like it’s in “Stepford” doing battle against The Wives. Powered by Pettitte and some late-inning long ball, the Yankees defeated the Twins for the 12th consecutive time, winning 7-1 at Yankee Stadium. In beating Twins ace Francisco Liriano, Pettitte improves to 5-0 on the season.

The Yankee offense supported Pettitte early, scoring single runs in each of the first two innings. In the first, Derek Jeter, Mark Teixeira, and Alex Rodriguez strung together singles to put the Yanks up, 1-0. In the second, the bottom of the order started another rally. After being hit by a pitch, Marcus Thames moved up to second on a Francisco Cervelli sacrifice (is there anything he cannot do?), and scored on Jeter’s second straight single.

Though he was not overpowering (giving up three walks while striking out two), Pettitte was highly effectual as he pitched for the first time in ten days. He encountered his biggest threat in the sixth inning, when he mysteriously threw 11 straight balls out of the strike zone and issued two-out walks to Denard “Not Emma” Span and Orlando Hudson, bringing the great Joe Mauer to the plate as the potential tying run. The game hanging in the balance, the reigning American League MVP catapulted a Pettitte pitch deep to left-center field, but Brett “The Jet” Gardner caught the dangerous drive in the middle of the warning track. Inning over.

Thrilled to watch Pettitte strike out Justin Morneau to start the seventh inning, Joe Girardi turned the game over to the enigmatic David Robertson in the seventh. Robertson recorded one out but allowed the next two runners to reach base, prompting Ron Gardenhire to summon Jim Thome as a pinch-hitter carrying the potential tying run. Limited to under 100 at-bats, Thome had hit five home runs to the tune of a .535 slugging percentage, making him a special threat on a warm day at the Stadium. Girardi, continuing to show faith in Damaso Marte despite his Friday night failures against messers Mauer and Morneau, again called on his veteran left-hander. This time Marte did as he is paid to do, striking out Thome to finish off the two-out threat.

With the Yankees holding a 3-0 lead, but the Twins still within striking distance, the Bombers went to work against the Minnesota bullpen in the seventh. Teixeira inflated the cushion by hitting a mammoth two-run home run to right field. The ball landed in the second deck, in the rare air of the luxury suites, territory that has rarely been penetrated during the one year-plus of the new Stadium’s existence. The resurgent Rodriguez tried to match Teixeira by driving a ball deep into right-center field. At first the ball seemed to have long ball distance, but it banged off the very top of the fence, forcing A-Rod to settle for a double.

Two batters later, Posada did not settle for anything, instead launching a bomb to nearly straightaway center field, the ball caroming off the bullpen wall into the center-field bleachers. With that two-run blast making it 7-0, the romp was on, allowing Girardi to call on his second-tier pitching (translated: Boone Logan) in the eighth and ninth innings and rest Chamberlain and Rivera for another day.

Yankee Doodles: Playing as the DH, Posada led the Yankee attack with three hits. Jeter, Teixeira, and Rodriguez each chipped in with a pair… Joe Mauer broke up a shutout bid with an RBI single against Logan in the eighth inning…The Twins continue to be hexed against the Yankees, and especially so in the Bronx. Since Gardenhire has become Minnesota manager, the Twins have gone 3-25 at the old and new Bronx ballparks… After dropping their weekday series with the Tigers, the Yankees’ win on Saturday guarantees another series victory. The Yankees will gun for the sweep on Sunday, albeit with the suspect Sergio Mitre starting against Nick Blackburn… The Yankees plan to activate Chan Ho Park from the disabled prior to Sunday’s game. To make room for Park, the Yankees will likely send right-hander Ivan Nova back to Scranton/Wilkes Barre. Finally, there is news on Nick Johnson and it isn’t encouraging, though that is hardly a surprise.

[Photo Credit: Frank Franklin II/AP]

I have to admit that I was completely stumped as to what I should write about in this week’s edition of “Card Corner.” Having already exhausted the futility and frustration of the 1990 Yankees, I found myself searching for a new theme. Yet, nothing came to mind.

Then came a barrage of Reggie Jackson-related material in Tuesday’s editions of The Banter. Well, Reggie is always ripe for interesting discussion. I then remembered that I needed to correct an item from a “Card Corner” that appeared in this space back in December of 2007. I had written that Jackson, when he showed up to work for Oakland in the spring in 1972, had become the first major leaguer to sport a mustache since Wally Schang of the old Philadelphia Athletics in 1914.

Wrong. Dead wrong. It’s just not true that Jackson was the first man since Schang to go the mustachioed route. As friend and researcher Maxwell Kates has pointed out, Richie Allen (as he was called back then) actually wore a mustache with the St. Louis Cardinals during the 1970 season. (Felipe Alou might have also worn a mustache with the A’s in 1970, but that is less certain. Another possibility is Richie Scheinblum, who might have grown a mustache with the Cleveland Indians in 1969.) In fact, Allen’s 1971 Topps card, which was photographed after he was traded to the Los Angeles Dodgers, shows a mustache in clear view. So Jackson did not set a new trend. He merely continued what Allen had done over the previous two seasons.

With that cleared up, Jackson is good fodder for conversation, especially when a new in-depth biography about his life has just hit the Internet bookshelves. I have not yet read Dayn Perry’s book, but I’m sure that he has touched upon the following subjects in far greater depth. In particular, the start of Jackson’s professional career, along with his overlooked years in Oakland, have always fascinated me. So let’s take a closer look.

By all rights, Jackson should have started his career in New York, but with the Mets, not the Yankees. In 1966, the Mets owned the No. 1 pick in the June amateur draft. They faced a choice of drafting Jackson, a young African-American outfielder out of Arizona State, or a left-handed, power-hitting catcher named Steve Chilcott. With Jackson destined to make the major leagues within two seasons, the Mets would have formulated one of the game’s best and most athletic outfields: smooth-swinging Cleon Jones, who would bat .340 during the miracle season of 1969; Gold Glover and power-hitting Tommie Agee in center; and the rifle-armed Jackson in right field. I can’t think of any outfield in that era that would have combined such speed, defensive range, and power, with the possible exception of the early 1970s Giants outfield that featured Willie Mays in center flanked by a young Ken Henderson (look up his early numbers) in left field and a budding Bobby Bonds in right field.

As we all know, the dream outfield of Jones-Agee-Jackson never materialized at Shea Stadium. Instead of taking Jackson, the Mets chose Chilcott, who would play seven minor league seasons but never play a single game in the major leagues. Rumors have always swirled that the Mets opted not to take Jackson because he liked to date white women. I tend to believe the rumors, especially given the presence of George Weiss as Mets general manager. Weiss was the same man who had decided to integrate the Yankees at a snail’s pace during the 1950s.

The perception of Jackson’s talent has also been a source of controversy, though for less incendiary reasons. I’ve long contended that the portrayal of Jackson as a one-dimensional slugger is overly simplistic–along with being just plain wrong. As a member of the A’s, Reggie was a well-rounded four-tool talent. In addition to the established power, Reggie could steal bases, range far in right field, and heave cannon shots toward the infield. With the A’s, Jackson had enough athleticism to make more than token appearances in center field. From 1967 to 1974, Jackson played 172 games in center field for the A‘s, including 92 appearances for the 1972 world champions. He wasn’t a particularly good center fielder–he was probably a bit below average, let‘s call it a ‘3‘ on a Strat-O-Matic card–but he was often the best available candidate for managers Dick Williams and Alvin Dark.

By the time that Reggie joined the Yankees in 1977, the idea of playing him in center field was unthinkable; I suspect that in addition to becoming too muscle bound, he had problems with his vision and depth perception that made outfielding a major chore. But for the first seven to eight seasons of his career, Jackson was a true triple threat as a power hitter, capable defender, and proficient base stealer.

And he was pretty good at growing a mustache, thought not exactly the trendsetter that I had originally portrayed him to be. Somehow, I think Reggie will get over it.

Bruce Markusen will present a program on baseball cards at the Cooperstown Symposium on Baseball and American Culture June 2-4.

In filling the Glenallen Hill role for the 2010 Yankee, Marcus Thames has been terrorizing left-handed pitchers to the tune of obscene on-base and slugging percentages. If he could continue this pace for the balance of the season, he would boast one of those monstrous Strat-O-Matic cards that would have you tempted to play him every day. But, then again, you’d probably want to restrict him to DH duty because of his dreadful defensive play in the outfield. Thames would likely grade out as a ‘4’ on the Strat card. For those not familiar with Strat-O-Matic, that’s the absolutely worst fielding grade you can achieve.

How badly has Thames played in the outfield for the Yankees? Every time the ball is hit in his direction, diehard Yankee fans begin to clutch their chests. Thames gets bad breaks on the ball, struggles in trying to track the ball, and then, even if he reaches the ball, has trouble holding on to it. That, friends, is the Triple Crown of fielding incompetence.

Thames’ play in left field has been so historically bad that it has me thinking of the worst defensive outfielders I’ve ever seen. I’ve been watching baseball since the early 1970s, giving me a chance to observe about 40 years of horrific outfield play. All of the following players could hit, but they each managed to play the outfield with such a lack of skill that the results bordered on the comical.

(Left Field) Kevin Reimer: Remarkably, Reimer averaged an error for every ten games he played in the outfield. He was particularly bad on those rare occasions when his teams dared to put him in right field, where he posted an .875 fielding percentage. This former Rangers and Brewers outfielder tried real hard, but he had no instincts, couldn’t run, couldn’t catch, and couldn’t throw. When it comes to awful fielders, Reimer had it all.

(Left Field) Greg “The Bull” Luzinski: The Bull played like the proverbial “bull in a china shop,” in left field, combining incredibly slow feet with a weak arm and a general awkwardness. Having to play on the artificial turf of the old Veterans Stadium only underscored Luzinski’s lack of speed and coordination. It remains a mystery why the Phillies ever moved him from his original position at first base.

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Whenever I see Atlanta’s super phenom Jason Heyward, the odds-on favorite to win the National League Rookie of the Year, I think of Claudell Washington. Although Heyward is actually four inches taller and 25 pounds heavier, they have similar body types: they are both long and lean in the mold of a Darryl Strawberry, both left-handed hitters, and both right fielders. Additionally, of course, they are both African American. Heyward is more hyped–he is generally considered the top prospect among position players in today’s game–but Washington was also a highly touted prospect with the A’s in the early to mid-1970s.

Washington also possessed the perfect sporting body. He featured shoulders so broad that one sportswriter claimed he looked like someone who had stuffed a wire hanger into his jersey. From there, his torso tapered off to the slimmest of waists, making him look like a male model. Muscular enough to hit home runs, Washington remained lean enough to run the bases as if he were running track, the ideal combination of speed and power.

The A’s certainly liked what they saw, to the point that they brought him to the major leagues at the age of 19. At one time, the A’s regarded Washington as the new Reggie Jackson, only with more footspeed and better defensive ability. Well, it never quite happened that way. Disappointed in his development and his attitude, Oakland owner Charlie Finley dealt Washington to the Rangers for the paltry package of Rodney “Cool Breeze” Scott and left-hander Jim Umbarger. From there, Claudell went to Chicago as part of a package for Bobby Bonds. Washington patrolled right field for Bill Veeck’s White Sox, but Chicago fans did not take to the lackadaisical Washington. One disgusted bleacherite brought a banner to Comiskey Park, infamously displaying it in the right field stands. The banner pronounced three succinct but memorable words: “Washington Slept Here.” Given the way that Washington seemed to sleepwalk through games in Chicago, no one could reasonably argue with the sentiment.

The Mets eventually did the White Sox a favor by taking Washington off their hands, but only by giving up the measly return of minor league pitcher Jesse Anderson, who would never play in a major league game. Washington played one lackluster season in Queens before realizing the benefits of baseball’s newly created free agency. In one of the most puzzling contracts ever doled out in the free agent era, the Braves rewarded the mediocre Washington with a five-year deal worth $3 million. That might not sound like much in today’s baseball economy, but in 1980 it was the kind of money given to a superstar. While talented and still reeking of potential, Washington was several levels shy of superstar caliber. For all of his talent, he had never hit more than 13 home runs, and had never drawn more than 32 walks in a single season.

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Among the finer baseball books to be published this spring is Chris Jaffe’s Evaluating Baseball’s Managers. Full of anecdotes and analysis, it’s an in-depth study of many of the most significant managers in the game’s history. Earlier in the week, Chris answered a number of questions about the book, including his thoughts on some of the most important managers to wear the pinstripes.

Markusen: Chris, in putting this book together, it’s obvious that you’ve put in an exhaustive amount of research and time. How much, if at all, were you influenced by the previous books on managers done by Bill James and Leonard Koppett?

Jaffe: Both were very helpful. Neither was the main inspiration, but both helped.  Koppett gave me a sense of how the position evolved over time. Early in his book, he talks of New York’s 1876 National League manager Bill Cammeyer. He owned the team and invented the baseball stadium.  Nowadays, he’d never be manager, but then the position was different.

The James book probably helped a bit more. (Actually, Bill James gets mentioned more times than any non-manager in the book. I suppose that’s not too surprising given that it’s a Sabermetric work).

The big inspiration from the James book was a little 2-3 page section at the end where he noted how often particular managers’ teams led the league (or came in last) in various categories.  It let you know whose teams relied the most on power, or complete game pitching, or whatever. James said the list came in handy when discussing various managers.

I liked the idea and thought it could be taken further.  I thought rather than just look at how often someone ranked first or last, note how often they came in first, second, third … .all the way down to last, average it out, adjust for league size (because coming 6th in an 8 team league is different from sixth in a 16-team league), and get a better sense of where managers stand in various ways.

That became the Tendencies Database, which is the main tool I used to look at individual managers.

Markusen: Based on the research you did for the book, who emerges as the greatest manager in the history of the Yankees? Did this differ from any preconceived opinions you might have had?

Jaffe: Joe McCarthy kicked so much butt he had to wear special shoes.  I knew going in he was terrific so it didn’t go against any preconceived opinions, but there you go.

Stengel is more remembered because he was better with the media, came in the early TV era (when the Baby Boomers can remember him), and last, but certainly not least, won five straight titles.  That said, McCarthy’s post season accomplishments were in their own way even more impressive than Stengel’s.  In his nine World Series, McCarthy’s teams not only won eight world titles, but they won 29 out of 38 games.  A 29-9 record is remarkable if it’s a midseason run, but it’s almost impossible to do that good when facing pennant winning teams in rival leagues.  Stengel’s Yanks won a bunch of closely fought World Series, but McCarthy went 28-5 in his eight triumphant Octobers.  They never even saw a Game Seven.  Heck, they only had one Game Six.  Stonewall Jackson once said an army conditioned to victory will become invincible.  That’s what happened to those Yankees.

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