Tagged: Players

Little Big Man

I’ve followed the career of David Eckstein for a number of years now. One reason is my son is about the same stature, in every sense of the word. He wasn’t given much of an opportunity to play sports because of his size, and as a parent it was painful to watch. He is now a triathlete. I pointed out Eckstein to him as a role model, something fathers usually don’t do to their adult sons. That speaks volumes for Eckstein, as does the fact he has had to scrap for everything he has achieved.

It’s not the size of the dog in the scrap that matters, it is size of the scrap in the dog. That scrappiness undid the Tigers, as his MVP trophy attests. Notice it wasn’t some beefed up basher who won the MVP; instead it was the little man who came up big. Maybe this is a fitting end to the steroid era. Maybe the contracts will start going to baseball players, not circus freaks. It was interesting to note that Eckstein, who is probably vastly underpaid, admitted he has never bought a new car.

He’s now driving the Corvette. Good for him. Good to see.

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Sepia Tones

Ty Cobb Ty Cobb

Every time there is a Yankees or Red Sox World Series, there are these sepia toned reminisces of Ruth or Williams and the historical legacy of these storied franchises. Yet the two current participants are in no wise devoid of past greatness. Speaking of, this is a great site on the immortal Ty Cobb.

After 80 years, baseball is just now emerging from the shadow of the Bambino, Cobb’s nemesis.

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Ty Cobb

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Mister Rogers Mind Games

Could this be a latter day Tiger, Kenny Rogers, game?

One of Cobb’s most devastating approaches to baseball and perhaps the one that left the most lasting impression was his psychological intimidation. One part of that particular program was to nurture his image as a monster that both he and the media were creating. The more horrible that opponents thought that he was, the more that he felt that he could manipulate them to his advantage. For example, it was a good thing that opposing fielders thought that he sharpened his spikes.

Cobb’s Psychological Tactics

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Rest In Peace

As is always the case, we only recognize what we’ve lost after it is gone. Instead of inducting Buck O’Neil into the Hall of Fame during his lifetime, when he could have enjoyed it and shared that smile with us all, baseball is looking at finally doing the right thing posthumously. Tell me you didn’t see this coming. As I’ve said before, racism is alive and well in America.

Instead of looking at his not being inducted as a slight, O’Neil viewed the whole process as a celebration of a bygone era in baseball — an era of rich stories and great talent. He showed no bitterness, anger or hatred.

I never learned to hate," O’Neil said at the induction ceremonies. "I hate cancer. Cancer killed my mother. Ten years ago, cancer also took my wife. I hate AIDS. I had a friend who recently died of AIDS. But I can’t hate a human being."

It was O’Neil’s last public speech, and it was a fiery speech that further endeared him to people everywhere who long ago had learned to love O’Neil for the man he was.

Major League Baseball : News : Major League Baseball News

Happy Belated Birthday, Willie

Willie Mays turned 75 yesterday.  I’m old enough to actually remember Willie Mays playing, as a Giant and as a Met.  Like any other child of the Bay area, my first heroes were Giants.

I remember reading about the chase for Ruth’s homerun record in baseball magazines of the time, and finding it shocking that Aaron was thought to be more likely to break the record than Mays or Mantle.  Hammerin’ Hank never had the appeal of The Mick or Say Hey Willie.

Oddly, by his own account, Willie didn’t seem destined to be a home run hitter.  He was too small, and took as much delight in robbing another player of a homerun as he did hitting one himself.  The Twins Tori Hunter said something to that effect on a commercial.  I’ve often wondered why climbing the fence and snatching a sure dinger isn’t as appreciated as a homerun itself.  It has as profound of an effect on the outcome of the game as a homer, only in reverse.  If there were statistics for that there would be a history, and records to be broken, and baseball itself might be viewed differently.  We forget that we view baseball through a glass, a filter of perceptions based on the story that is being sold.

It is fitting that Mays is remembered as much for a defensive play as his offensive prowess.  The Catch in the 1954 World Series will live on forever in baseball lore.

Willie might have passed the Babe himself if he had not played much of his career in San Francisco.  But the answer to that question was consigned long ago consumed to the swirling winds of Candlestick Park.