Monday, April 8, 2024

My 100 All-Time Favorite Oakland A's

Way back in 2011, I posted a list of my 50 Favorite Oakland Athletics of All Time.

Not long after it went live, a wonderful friend of this lightly read blog (thank you, Carrie!) sent me this shirt commemorating a great baseball name, his random placement in the rankings and my incessant need to talk about myself at any and all times. 


I had never worn the shirt to a game, so I pulled it over my enormous head and scheduled an Uber pickup from my hotel in Phoenix to the Spring Training complex in Peoria, Arizona for a Mariners v. A’s game.

I lost count of the number of comments and questions from other fans – which increased throughout the game as the innings and beers went by – but it was a wonderful afternoon under a cloudless sky spent remembering some guys with likeminded men, women and children.

The original list was long overdue for a refresh.

The criteria for inclusion, though, remains mostly unchanged. And that dovetails nicely into a hasty explanation why YOUR favorite Oakland A’s players may be higher or lower on my list. 

(1) I’m old. I turned 51 recently and I’ve been an A’s fan longer than some of you have been alive. That’s not a flex! I’ve seen some shit, son! But I go back to 1981 and the list of my favorite players is long. Some players you’ve never heard of are going to be on here and some you hold near and dear to your heart aren’t. 

(2) My fandom was first forged in the 1980s and reached its zenith during The Bash Brothers era from 1988 to 1992. As I got older, my life and identity became less and less about the A’s. So, while I enjoyed their subsequent runs of success in the ensuing decades, those teams resonated less and less with me over time. 

(3) Personality matters. You’re going to see some generationally great players ranked in the 60s or lower. You’re going to see some flash-in-the-pan players ranked in the top third or so. For me, the guys with the charisma of stir-it-first, sugar-free peanut butter don’t move the needle as much. 

(4) You can also miss me with the sporadic over-the-top “dude-bros” who’ve worn the green and gold, but I’m here for those who might have been unfairly maligned by the media, team management or the masses. False hustle aficionado? Nope. Short-term tenure, but accompanied by an interesting story? Yessir.

Settle in for a silly and subjective ride, you guys. But one that also serves as the definitive determination by your favorite A’s (f)ancestor. 

100 – Zack Gelof (2023-current) 2B: There was far too much recency bias in my original rankings, so let’s step back, take a breath and ask one fair and rational question that I totally won’t regret in 10 years: Is Zack Gelof about to be the greatest homegrown second baseman in Oakland A’s history?! IS HE?! 

99 – Dallas Braden (2007-11) SP: For a guy who didn’t miss many bats and finished his five-year career with a 26-36 record…Braden was kind of underrated! In 52 combined starts between 2009-10 – his longest stretch of consistent appearances – he posted a cumulative 5.4 bWAR! But, of course, he’s here because he decided to be legendary on Mother’s Day 2010. He’s also here because he got on the bad side of former manager Bob Geren which, like his perfect game, puts him on the right side of history. 

98 – Lawrence Butler (2023-current) OF: Since the Bash Brothers era ended more than 30 years ago, you can count the number of charismatic Black ballplayers who’ve suited up for Oakland with one hand. What was once a tradition for the franchise’s first 25 years in the Bay Area – and in the community, where the city’s Black population was as high as 47% in 1980 – has given way to cookie-cutter clubhouse conformance. Butler is a bombastic breath of fresh air whose omnipresent braids, shades and blinding smile could be BIG-big if the bat catches up to his reputation. 

97 – Jed Lowrie (2013-14, 2016-18, 2021-22) 2B: Today, you learned that Lowrie finished in the top 20 in total career plate appearances for the Oakland A’s. He slugged 205 career doubles under Stomper’s watchful eye and was a lifetime .270/.355/.420 hitter with runners in scoring position. He did this while looking like a lifetime 45-year-old but was as dependable as the pair of New Balance he surely slid on after every game. 

96 – David Justice (2002) LF: After he retired, Justice lived over in Poway – about a 10-minute drive from Stately Bootleg Manor. I’d occasionally see him at Target dutifully pushing the same rickety red shopping cart as me. Two light-skinned legends searching for that sale on cereal or shea butter. He was one of the leaders on that 20-game winning streak team and his whole vibe reminded me a lot of Carney Lansford ten years earlier – the seen-some-shit sheriff with a few bullets to his name who left it all out there at the end. 

95 – Cory Lidle (2001-02) SP: Lidle had been released, waived and snapped up in an expansion draft all before he was sent to Oakland in the Johnny Damon/Ben Grieve three-team deal. He had his two best years in Oakland, posting a combined 7.0 bWAR and etching a small, but indelible sidebar during The Streak as he went 5-0 that August with a 0.20 ERA. 

94 – Olmedo Saenz (1999-2002) 1B/3B: In a reserve role, he hit .313/.401/.514 – with several clutch hits – on the 2000 A's team that brought me back to baseball for good after the 1994 strike and those 1993-1998 Oakland teams threatened to snuff out my soul. 

93 – Glenn Hubbard (1988-89) 2B: Due to the basic cable ubiquity of TBS in the 1980s, baseball fans from coast to coast knew about the Atlanta Braves. Hubbard signed with Oakland after a mostly nondescript decade with the Fulton County Crew. He was a fun, obviously odd fit who had practically telepathic chemistry with Walt Weiss on the double play. 

92 – Mark Mulder (2000-04) SP: I thought for sure he’d made my original list of 50 seeing as how he averaged 16 wins per season with the A’s and I wasn’t aware of his crackpot Curt Schilling-esque peccadilloes at the time. Every A’s fan can tell you the story of Mulder’s sub-two-hour complete game on “Fireworks Night” that ended before the sun had set. 

91 – Mark Ellis (2002-11) 2B: All you need to know about the value of a Gold Glove award is that Ellis never won one. The A’s have had some defensive virtuosos in assorted keystone combinations over the decades, but Ellis made it look so easy. Maybe too easy for the untrained eye? He had the range to get to balls without the “Web Gems” dramatics and arm strength that ensured throws would beat the runner easily as opposed to bang-bang plays. Wish he’d been blessed with better health. Ellis only played 150+ games in a season twice. 

90 – Greg Cadaret (1987-89) RP: Traded for Rickey Henderson in June 1989, he came into his own as a lockdown reliever on the 1988 AL pennant-winning A’s holding left-handed hitters to a .198/.309/.217 slash line. The Yankees tried to make him a starter after acquiring him. It didn’t take, but he stuck around MLB as a reliever until the late 1990s. 

89 – Eric Plunk (1987-89) RP: Traded for Rickey Henderson in June 1989, he came into his own as a lockdown reliever on the 1988 AL pennant-winning A’s holding right-handed hitters to a .226/.316/.348 slash line. The Yankees tried to make him a starter after acquiring him. It didn’t take, but he stuck around MLB as a reliever until the late 1990s. 

88 – Mark Canha (2015-21) OF: He’ll be mentioned until the end of time – each and every December – when/if the A’s take someone in the Rule V Draft with variations of “…the beleaguered bottom-feeding A’s hope this pick is reminiscent of Mark Canha who played seven years in Oakland and posted a .370 OBP on three playoff teams there.” 

87 – Bobby Kielty (2004-07) OF: If A’s ownership is able to pull off this ridiculous relocation, they’ll be leaving a LOT of history behind. There are obvious names and Hall of Famers, sure, but, watching Kielty run around out there with a shock of Flaming Hot Cheetos-colored hair barely contained under his cap? I was in attendance up in Anaheim when he took a then-invincible Frankie Rodriguez deep into the right field seats in the 11th inning to win a late season game. 

86 – Ron Darling (1991-95) SP: The 1991 season was one of the most cursed in team history. Snowmobile fallout, bad free agent signings, injuries to top prospects and lingering locker room toxicity from the 1990 World Series. Darling came over midseason from Montreal and pitched well, but without much run support. He’d win 15 games the following season. He struggled after that, but always took the ball and was a dignified dude on some dumpster-quality teams. 

85 – Tom Candiotti (1998-99) SP: Every baseball list of 100 or more names needs at least one knuckleball pitcher. Candiotti lost 21 games over 1 ½ seasons in Oakland…but he won 14! Far from his late 80s/early 90s peak, he could still get his pitches to dance on some days, including a complete game win over the juggernaut 1998 Yankees in August. 

84 – Alfredo Griffin (1985-87) SS: The 1985 A’s were an odd hodgepodge of 20-somethings just a few years removed from ROY eligibility and 40-somethings already receiving AARP Magazine. Griffin was an inexplicable All-Star in 1984 (.248 OBP!), but his defense was otherworldly – equal parts whirling dervish and perfect jheri curl. 

83 – Mack “Shooty” Babitt (1981) 2B: I don’t remember a lot about the 1981 A’s, following from a few hundred miles away as an 8-year-old, but I do remember Shooty. He only played in 54 games, but the A’s were on a fair amount for that era and Shooty would pop in for intermittent prime time appearances – usually pinch-running – with the nasally cadence of Howard Cosell sounding out his full name. He never made it back to the bigs after 1981, but he appeared in, like, every third pack of 1982 Topps baseball cards I bought, so that’s something. 

82 – Bobby Witt (1992-94) SP: Witt was considered a phenom back in the mid-1980s with an unfuckwitable fastball and everyone just ignored his abominable walk numbers (154 BB in 196.2 college innings and an average of 122 BB/year in his first five MLB seasons). It’s been lost to history, but Witt got hosed out of a perfect game in June 1994 on a play at first base 16 years before Armando Galarraga. 

81 – Gio Gonzalez (2008-11) SP: It's fun to watch an obviously talented young player figure it out before your eyes. During his first two Major League seasons, Gonzalez was a tightly wound, overly emotional pitcher who'd fall apart at the first sign of any in-game adversity. He became a 2011 All Star who learned to roll with the punches and finally trust his stuff. 

80 – Chad Bradford (2001-04) RP: Every baseball list of 100 or more names needs at least one submarine pitcher. He got by on guile, deception and location that belied 85-mph stuff often proceeded by a puff of dirt from the mound when Bradford’s knuckles would get especially low. 

79 – Reggie Jackson (1967-75, 1987) RF: His best years were before my time, obviously, but, when he returned to the A’s as a free agent prior to the 1987 season (he was supposed to be joined by Vida Blue, but…alas) it marked a bit of an inflection point for the franchise. A nod to the team’s rich history would be centered as Oakland hosted the All Star Game and changed their primary uniforms. Reggie’s influence in that clubhouse lasted during the entire Bash Brothers era – for better or worse. 

78 – Kurt Suzuki (2007-13) C: My son was born nine weeks premature. Consequently, he was slow to reach most of his developmental milestones. He spent some time in occupational and speech therapy. One of his therapists picked up on J’s burgeoning obsession with baseball and the Oakland A’s; so, she helped him write out and pronounce the starting lineup from the previous evening. J struggled mightily with “Suzuki” and whenever he’d appear on screen, J would slowly sound out the surname and get frustrated when he inevitably stumbled over the syllables. The mile-wide smile when J finally got it right is why the starting catcher on some execrable Athletics teams made this list. 

77 – Jeremy Giambi (2000-02) DH: It’s been reported that Giambi never made peace with that moment in game three of the 2001 ALDS. I hope that’s not true. It’s certainly not the reason – or even A REASON – that the A’s lost that series. He was a joyous spirit on a few incredibly fun teams 20+ years ago. We’ll never forget you, dude. 

76 – Sean Doolittle (2012-17) RP: One of the most decent human beings to ever play baseball over in the East Bay. Aside from his on-field success (3.09 ERA, 36 saves in Oakland) he and his then-girlfriend, now wife Eireann Dolan were instrumental in the team pulling off its first Pride Night in 2015. 

75 – Liam Hendriks (2016-20) RP: A’s fans are funny. We’re used to players leaving as free agents. Most of the time, we’re resigned to our team’s frugal lot in life. Other times, we’re glad to see the guy go (e.g., Storm Davis, Jon Lester). But, on occasion, we love someone so much that we wish them well, congratulate them for escaping and swear upon our ancestors that his new team and their fans better take care of him. It was always a rollercoaster with Liam in the ninth, but he remains the good-est of the good guys. 

74 – Erubiel Durazo (2003-05) DH: Probably the first real “failure” during GM Billy Beane’s wheeling-and-dealing in those early “Moneyball” days. The long-pursued “white whale” wasn’t bad…he just was what he was: an on-base machine with moderate, but not mammoth pop, who had no other plus tools. His career was effectively over after a serious elbow injury that occurred as he was preparing to play first base during interleague play. There are two guys on this list who were ruined by the National League’s stupid anti-DH stance. I seethe. 

73 – Sean Manaea (2016-21) SP: There are some polarizing guys on this list and – to be sure – The Manaea Experience contains multitudes. No hitters! Comically untamed hair! Catastrophic postseason appearances! His haters always seemed to be mad that he never reached his pre-MLB potential. But, through it all, he was unfailingly pleasant, occasionally outstanding and the kind of middle-of-the-rotation presence that 30 teams will always need. 

72 – Daric Barton (2007-14) 1B: Hoo, boy…this guy. He hit .347/.429/.639 in 72 September at-bats during his debut in 2007 as a 21-year-old. He’d only play two full seasons in the next seven years. While he had his fair share of self-inflicted issues, he also had an odd mix of offensive skills (OBP, but no power and mostly middling batting averages) that elicited a disproportionate amount of invective. I liked him. He was underrated defensively and had one sneaky-good year in 2010 (5.5 bWAR). He’s also the Oakland A’s all-time leader in hits for anyone who ONLY played for the Oakland A’s. Forgive him already, friends. 

71 – Stan Javier (1986-90, 1994-95) OF: Back in the 1980s, Javier was a light-hitting fourth outfielder who could steal a base. When he returned in the mid-1990s, he posted back-to-back 3.5 bWAR seasons with a .350 OBP and 60 stolen bases in 72 attempts. There ain’t many Oakland A’s who leave the team, then, come back as better players. 

70 – Ron Gant (2001, 2003) DH: The Legend of Ron Gant is just glorious. He was a 155-lb second baseman who couldn’t field, so back in the 1980s, the Braves sent him down to the minors. He returned as a muscle-bound outfielder who hit 321 home runs with eight different teams. He only played 51 games with the A’s, but that extra-schmedium jersey unbuttoned down to his sternum is a helluva legacy. 

69 – Justin Duchscherer (2003-10) SP/RP: One of the game's most efficient and consistent middle relievers during his time. Relocated into the starting rotation in 2008 and won 10 of his 22 starts. Two-time All Star whose bouts with chronic hip injuries  and more famously, depression  made it impossible to root against him. 

68 – Scott Sanderson (1990) SP: Like Storm Davis before him, Sanderson used a truckload of run support to become a big winner in the A’s rotation. The quintessential “pitch-to-contact” guy, he only struck out 128 batters in 206 innings, but we couldn’t take our eyes off his awkward delivery (his back stayed exaggeratedly rigid in his windup) and his “slop drop” slow curveball could untie your Nikes. 

67 – John Jaha (1999-2001) DH: Crushed 35 home runs with a .970 OPS in 1999. Injuries ruined the last two years of his career, but he can be seen in the American League dugout whenever MLB Network re-airs the 1999 All Star Game starring Pedro Martinez. 

66 – Jerry Blevins (2007-13) RP: A dependable lefty who posted a lifetime 3.30 ERA in 281 games with Oakland, hardcore A’s dorks like myself would probably bore him with the same two stories if we ever met him: that 2012 game in Anaheim when he entered in the ninth with a one-run lead, no one out, runners at the corners…and got out of it or the following year – also against the Angels – when he came to bat in the bottom of the 18th inning. 

65 – Mike Moore (1989-92) SP: Notoriously s-l-o-w worker who won 66 games over four seasons in Oakland, but his first year was the most memorable. Moore made the All Star team, he started (and won) in front of the largest regular season crowd ever involving the Athletics – and I was there! He even swung the bat in game four of the 1989 World Series, driving in two runs with a double to centerfield. 

64 – Scott Hatteberg (2002-05) 1B: Thanks to the “Moneyball” movie, he was the retconned star of the 2002 team that won 20 games in a row. (That movie also did then-manager Art Howe dirty, but that’s another discussion.) Unquestionably hit the most famous regular season home run in Oakland A’s history. But was it the most important? Stay tuned. 

63 – Jason Isringhausen (1999-2001) RP: It was thought that Izzy might be most remembered for one of the last great nicknames in baseball when injuries curtailed the starting pitching careers of him and the rest of “Generation K”. Instead, he was resurrected as a closer and saved 75 games in Oakland – including the clincher on the final day of the 2000 season that won the AL West. 

62 – Matt Olson (2016-21) 1B: In a fair and just world, Olson would have spent his entire career in green and gold with a generation of kids imitating his batting stance just like they did 30 years earlier for Rickey and Jose. Simply astounding on both offense and defense, if he’s the last great first baseman in Oakland history, his was a worthy and deserving final chapter. 

61 – Jesus Luzardo (2019-21) SP/RP: The “Lizard King” deserved better. Luzardo showed flashes of what he could be, but that unfulfilled potential was never realized after landing in the doghouse following a freak injury while reacting – poorly – to a video game outcome. When he wasn’t rotting away in AAA-Las Vegas, he made sporadic appearances with the big club – including his last one on June 19, 2021, at Yankee Stadium where pitching coach Scott Emerson aired him out on the mound. You’re free, King. You’re free. 

60 – Matt Chapman (2017-21) 3B: In 2018 and 2019, Chapman posted superstar-level bWAR of 7.6 and 7.8, respectively. It’s not a stretch to say he was on a Hall of Fame trajectory. Then, in 2020, he injured his hip, needed surgery and hasn’t been the same since. Arguably, the greatest defensive player in Oakland A’s history, he was dropping jaws on a nightly basis. He’s not the biggest “what if…?” in Bay Area baseball, but he’s in the front row of the class picture. 

59 – Cristian Pache (2021) OF: A plus-plus defender in center, Pache only needed to be serviceable at the plate to be valuable. Instead, he broke camp with the team and flailed for months at the bottom of the order without any sign of adjustment until his confidence was asphyxiated. Watching Mark Kotsay give up on the expressive Pache in real time was akin to managerial malpractice. Glad he found a home in Philadelphia. 

58 – Reggie Harris (1990-91) RP: Harris was selected out of the Red Sox organization in the 1989 Rule V draft. Before he ever appeared for the A’s, respected scribes like Peter Gammons were anointing Harris as the future ace of the rotation. His reputation grew like a tall tale slung around the saloon. By the time he finally appeared for Oakland – after recovering from hepatitis(!) – he was…just a guy. But, for 18 total appearances, he was must-see TV…y’know, just in case THIS was the day he was gonna be great. 

57 – Carlos Peña (2002) 1B: One of baseball's top prospects, he was acquired in a trade with the Rangers and penciled in to replace Jason Giambi at first base. Fell out of favor with the A's faster than any player I can remember -- partially due to a genuinely fun and fascinating online diary he wrote for mlb.com. 

56 – Matt Stairs (1996-2000) OF: Averaged 28 home runs and 90 RBI from 1997 through 2000, but those are only my second favorite pair of stats involving Stairs. My favorite: 5'9", 200 lbs. To this day, he and my friend Smitty have never been seen in the same place at the same time. 

55 – Kirk Dressendorfer (1991) SP: It can be reasonably argued that pitch counts aren’t proven to prevent pitching injuries. What we DO know, though, is that the abuse of amateur pitchers from back in the day ain’t it, either. Dressendorfer was drafted in 1990 and debuted in April 1991 with a win over Seattle. His right arm burned bright, but only briefly. He threw just 29 more innings for the A’s (his only MLB season), after a collegiate career that saw him set a school record (University of Texas) for complete games. But, hey, at least the Longhorns retired his jersey. 

54 – Todd Burns (1988-91) SP/RP: With his bad mustache, puffy hair, paunchy physique and ass as big as all outdoors, Burns was a cult favorite on those late 80s teams. He came out of nowhere to fill-in as fifth starter in 1988, finishing 8-2 with a 121 ERA+. When Eck was hurt the following spring, he stepped in as occasional closer. 

53 – Ramon Hernandez (1999-2003) C: Hernandez supplanted A.J. Hinch as the starting catcher just before the 1999 All Star Break. Over 4 1/2 seasons in Oakland, Hernandez caught one of the best starting rotations in recent memory, introduced walk-off bunt into my vernacular and was a trailblazer in the field of Venezuelans with frosted tips. 

52 – Bartolo Colon (2012-13) SP: It seems silly to use statistics when talking about Bartolo, but in his age 39(!) and 40(!!) campaigns, he won 28 total games for the A’s and was the last Oakland pitcher to toss three or more shutouts in a single season. Charismatic and colorful, his career numbers are better than you think and – as we move farther away from “traditional” starting pitchers – I’ll bet you one of these Veterans’ Crony Committees someday puts him in the Hall of Fame. 

51 – Mike Gallego (1985-91, 1995) 2B: Started more than 100 games at a single position in a single season just once with Oakland (1991), but capably filled in all around the infield. He was also the last New York Yankee (1992-94) to wear #2 before Derek Jeter. Look at you about to win “trivia night” with these last two entries, son. 

50 – Barry Zito (2000-06, 2015) SP: It’s been more than 20 years and I’ll still never understand why the A’s kept Zito on turn for the final (meaningless) game of the 2002 regular season, instead of using him in Game #1 of the ALDS and ensuring the eventual AL Cy Young Award winner got two starts in the first round of the playoffs. I will never let this go. 

49 – Ramón Laureano (2018-23) OF: One of the more fascinating players from my lifetime of fandom, it took me awhile to understand his get-down. My friend Felina helped me peel back the bullshit perspectives with him and what was left was a guy who cared deeply, played hurt regularly and was an incredible teammate. His highlight-reel lasers from the outfield were just part of his story. 

48 – Miguel Tejada (1997-2003) SS: His two walk-off moments during the A's 20-game winning streak earned him an awful lot of career leeway from me. He might've finished in my top 20 if not for his terrible baserunning (and ignorance of the "obstruction" rule) during the 2003 ALDS. Anecdotally, I sure seem to remember him being the kind of player who'd show outward frustration if he struck out with the A's up by five or six runs. 

47 – Khris Davis (2016-21) DH: God as my witness, I just noticed that the dude synonymous with .247 is ranked #47 here. Khrush averaged 44 home runs/year from 2016 to 2018 and parlayed that into a contract extension (yes, from Oakland!) the following season. Just two weeks later, while playing the outfield during interleague play in Pittsburgh, he injured his hip and ribcage on an awkward catch of a foul ball and was never the same. 

46 – Eric Fox (1992-94) OF: Look…I’ll concede that Scott Hatteberg hit the most dramatic regular season home run in Oakland A’s history, but the most important was hit by Fox. It put the nail in the coffin for Minnesota’s 1992 division title hopes. If the Athletics had won it all that year, kids in the Oakland Unified School District would be getting Fox’s birthday off. 

45 – Jerry Browne (1992-93) UT: One of the unsung heroes of Oakland's 1992 division-winning team. Played six different positions, always seemed to be on base and hit .400 in the ALCS that year. During batting practice at a game in Anaheim, I screamed down to the field, "I voted for you, Governor!" He responded with a wave, a smile and a "thank you!" A true man of the people. 

44 – Dwayne Murphy (1978-87) CF: The biggest – and most embarrassing! – omission from my original list. He was one of the most underrated A’s of all time – averaging 5.7 bWAR from 1980-82. His defense was transcendent in centerfield, as he was famous for his cap flying off as he covered the endless Coliseum real estate with ease. He collided with teammate Mike Davis in April 1987, injuring his knee, then came back too soon. He was out of baseball two years later. 

43 – Chris Carter (2010-12) DH: There probably wasn’t a more anticipated 21st century A’s position player arrival than Carter. His Minor League stat lines were ree-goddam-diculous, culminating in a combined .329/.422/.570 slash between AA and AAA in 2009. Carter debuted with Oakland in August 2010, went 0 for his first 35(!!!) plate appearances and that was pretty much that. Still, his at bats were event-viewing for a minute. When he ran into one, he could hit it past the sun. 

42 – Ben Grieve (1997-2000) OF/DH: With vivid memories of the baseball card industry's speculative zenith, I've always had a soft spot for relentlessly hyped rookies. Grieve was the top prospect in all of baseball at one point and took home the 1998 AL Rookie of the Year award. He also grounded into three double plays in the time took you to read this entry. 

41 – Marcus Semien (2015-20) SS: One of the most inspiring players in the history of the franchise who turned himself into a perennial MVP candidate simply by working his ass off. The A’s made the playoffs in his final three years in Oakland and the franchise said “thank you” by offering one of the more insulting free agent contracts in recent memory. Beginning to think current A’s ownership is an embarrassment. 

40 – Tony Phillips (1982-89, 1999) IF/OF: His career 50.9 bWAR is the highest of any player who never made an All Star team. Phillips was injury-prone and there were already whispers about his personal demons, so the A’s let him walk after 1989. If they’d kept him, they’d have solved their eternally empty space at second base well into the 1990s. 

39 – Rubén Sierra (1992-95) OF: He contracted chicken pox right after he was acquired from Texas in August 1992 (for Jose Canseco) and then Oakland signed him to a prohibitive long-term deal (5 years, $28 million) after that season. In 1993, Sierra came to camp noticeably more muscle-y. With his new video game physique, his once respectable on-base skills disappeared as he swung for the fences at everything. He even feuded with then-manager Tony LaRussa and was hung with a derisive nickname that followed him the rest of his career. By the standard of today's entertaining train wrecks, he was ahead of his time. 

38 – Ron Hassey (1988-90) C: Every baseball list of 100 or more names needs at least one backup catcher with chronically bad knees. Hassey was well-known as Bob Welch’s personal catcher, but he also had a knack for clutch hits even well into his 30s. When he first arrived in Oakland, veteran pitchers preferred throwing to him over Terry Steinbach…which is why it was Hassey behind the plate on Black Saturday. 

37 – Luis Polonia (1987-89) OF: The A's handed him the keys to the leadoff spot as a rookie and for 2 1/2 years Polonia was an electrifying – albeit unpolished – offensive presence. His overall numbers in Oakland (.288/.332/.385) were roughly league average, but his speed (20 triples, 66 stolen bases) made for a refreshing contrast to the mashers in the middle of the order. Defensively? He was nicknamed “Catch-22” because – as the story goes – if you hit him 100 fly balls… 

36 – Todd Van Poppel (1991, 1993-96) SP: Obviously Van Poppel didn’t work out, but he gave a generation of A’s fans hope – for a few years – that the late 1980s salad days would last forever. 

35 – Billy Taylor (1994, 1996-99) RP: I am an unapologetic sucker for the "minor league lifer FINALLY makes the big leagues" storyline. Taylor debuted professionally in 1980. I first heard about him in the “USA Today: Baseball Weekly” publication sometime in the early 1990s. He was racking up saves for the Braves' Triple-A team, but never got the call to the show. Taylor pitched effectively as a 32-year-old rookie middle reliever for the A's in 1994. After Dennis Eckersley's departure, Taylor became the A's closer, recording 100 career saves with Oakland. 

34 – Frank Thomas (2006, 2008) DH: Left for dead by the White Sox, the future Hall of Famer signed with the A's for a relative pittance just two weeks before the start of Spring Training in 2006. Through May 20, he hit just .178/.300/.373. For the remainder of the season, he hit .302/.408/.603 and finished with 39 home runs on a division winning team. 

33 – Brent Gates (1993-96) 2B: My friend JP and I were so high on Gates that we bought 100 of his 1992 Topps Stadium Club rookie card and split 'em between us. Thrilled when he was called up in 1993, a wrist injury in 1994 pretty much scuttled his career. I still have the cards, if anyone's interested. 

32 – Willie Randolph (1990) 2B: Struggled with the A's after he was acquired midseason from the Dodgers, but I still remember how excited I was when one of my favorite players from the 1980s landed on my favorite team. 

31 – Willie McGee (1990) OF: Only 123 of his career 8,188 plate appearances were collected in Oakland. But, when the best team in baseball traded for McGee and Harold Baines on the same day, it made the 1990 World Series a formality -- in MY mind. At the time. In one of his first games with the A's, McGee scored from first base on an errant pickoff throw. For a naive teenage fan, McGee was symbolic of the win-at-all-costs dominance that would never be absent in Oakland! Never! 

30 – Rick Honeycutt (1987-93, 1995) RP: Depending on your perspective, he was either the most valuable left-handed middle reliever on one of the best teams in baseball or he was one of the accomplices in Tony LaRussa's plot to ruin baseball through bullpen micromanagement. 

29 – Gene Nelson (1987-92) RP: Depending on your perspective, he was either the most valuable right-handed middle reliever on one of the best teams in baseball or he was one of the accomplices in Tony LaRussa's plot to ruin baseball through bullpen micromanagement. 

28 – Steve Ontiveros (1985-88, 1994-95) SP, RP: A perfectly acceptable swingman for Oakland in the 1980s, he returned in the mid-1990s, won an ERA title and was an American League All Star. 

27 – Terrence Long (2000-03) OF: He might've been more reviled than Sierra by A's fans. After a promising rookie season (.288/.336/.452) he eroded almost overnight. Long bristled at a reduced role and was shipped off to San Diego after the 2003 season. I loved his left-handed swing when I first saw him – combining the Hriniak one-handed follow-through with a little hop at the end. He hit two home runs in the first game of the 2001 ALDS at Yankee Stadium. Long even offered up some unintentional comedy, wearing braids for a few seasons despite a hairline that resembled Hulk Hogan's. What's not to love?! Well, besides, how he struck out looking to end the 2003 ALDS. But, if we're fitting goat horns from that series, Long would've only been fifth or sixth in line. 

26 – Jemile Weeks (2011-13) 2B: Drafted 12th overall in the 2008 draft, Weeks debuted in 2011 with a .303/.340/.421 slash line in 437 plate appearances. To that point, he was the most electrifying player the A’s had in decades. The following season, my son Jalen and I flew up to Oakland and saw Weeks score from first base on a walk-off triple. He could take your breath away by just running. For a variety of reasons, however, he fell out of favor with management almost immediately. After 2012, he’d only play in 45 more big league games. 

25 – Rich Harden (2003-08, 2011) SP: The first time I ever bought tickets from a scalper – not on StubHub, but from a sketchy dude in the parking lot during pregame – was for Harden’s second MLB start up in Anaheim. Me and m’man Smitty saw Harden’s first MLB win that afternoon. There was no way we’d have missed it. Harden’s star-crossed career – flashing in fits and starts – was unfairly hexed. He’d only make 30+ starts in a season once but posted a bWAR of 3.0 or better three different times. Watching him warm up in the bullpen, I could hear the hiss of his fastball over the batting practice onlookers and obnoxious music roaring all around. Harden was legend. 

24 – Grant Balfour (2011-13) RP: In the summer of 2012, I took eight-year-old Jalen to a July game up in Oakland. Balfour came on late and – like Lynyrd Skynyrd inevitably performing “Freebird” – he gave the people what they wanted by shouting “FUUUCK” after his first pitch. My son was captivated. And cackling. The tiny crowd at the cavernous Coliseum got two more F-bombs as my son nearly hyperventilated with glee. 

23 – Kevin Kouzmanoff (2010-11) 3B: He developed a reputation as one of the game's nicest guys while playing here in San Diego. Kouz proved it to me on two occasions with my young son, Jalen. He signed a ball for Jalen in May 2010 up in Anaheim, insisting he come to the front of the crowd, ahead of all the pushing and shoving adults. The next year at Spring Training, Kouz signed again for Jalen while asking him about Little League, his favorite position and where he was from. Kouz struggled mightily in his time with the A's but, he's got fans for life in my household. 

22 – Coco Crisp (2010-16) CF: He was the unheralded leader of those 2012-2014 playoff teams, but between all that “Bernie Lean” tomfoolery, the weird media fixation on his afro and some of the larger personalities around him, he never really got his due for holding the clubhouse together. Apropos of nothing, I stood next to him while he was signing a ball for Jalen and dude was muscle on top of muscle. Still shorter than me, though. 

21 – Bob Welch (1988-94) SP: Won 84 games as the set-in-stone #2 starter behind Dave Stewart from 1988 to 1992. Welch was a recovering alcoholic and the media coverage wasn’t always fair to him or his struggles. But, on a team filled with rock stars, Welch was that often-anonymous everyman (even in his AL Cy Young season!) who was quietly one of the most important members of the band. 

20 – Terry Steinbach (1986-96) C: A three-time All Star, he was still – on a national level – one of the more anonymous players on those late 1980s/early 1990s A's teams. Steady and dependable both at the plate and behind it, he averaged 11 home runs per season from 1987 through 1995 – and then hit 35 in 1996, his free agent walk year. "Why does no one ever mention THAT?!", exclaimed 1996 Brady Anderson. 

19 – Jack Cust (2007-2010) DH: Yup. I had nothing but love for the big lug. It was easy to focus on his numerous shortcomings (terrible on defense, strikeouts, slow, strikeouts, struggled in the clutch, strikeouts) but he was the A's best hitter during his four-year tenure. According to the stathead site Fangraphs, Cust was worth more than $32 million in cumulative value with Oakland. He was worth slightly more to this little boy. 

18 – Walt Weiss (1987-92) SS: Won the 1988 AL Rookie of the Year award – admittedly over a more deserving Jody Reed – and hit a World Series home run in 1989 that led to this terrific call by ABC's Al Michaels ("And, of all people...!") His defense was unbelievable – as was the amount of chaw in his mouth at any given time. 

17 – Felix Jose (1988-90) OF: In the late 1980s, when the A's were minting Rookies of the Year on an annual basis, my friends and I got behind Jose in a big way. He was a colossally raw talent who went from mediocre minor leaguer to power-hitting prospect after a curious breakout at AAA-Tacoma in 1988. Showed infrequent flashes of what could've been, before being traded for Willie McGee in August 1990. 

16 – Lance Blankenship (1988-93) IF/OF: During the baseball card crazy late 1980s, Blankenship generated a bit of Rookie of the Year buzz going into 1989. He couldn't beat out the remains of Glenn Hubbard for the Opening Day second base job, but was a serviceable supersub on several A's teams that always seemed to need an injury fill-in. Posted a .393 OBP in his only season as an (almost) everyday player in 1992 and – to my eternal gratitude – ended the longest, coldest game I've ever witnessed live.** 

** – And, before you scroll to the bottom of that link, trust me on these two points: (1) 61 degrees during a night game in Oakland isn't like 61 degrees anywhere else on earth. (2) It wasn't 61 degrees when the game ended at 12:42 AM. 

15 – Eric Chavez (1998-2010) 3B: For a five-year stretch – 2000 through 2004 – he was arguably the best all-around third baseman in the game (.280/.357/.513, averaged 30 home runs per season, won four of his six consecutive Gold Glove awards). He signed a six-year, $66 million contract extension prior to the 2004 season, but a cascade of injuries – starting in 2007 – limited him to 154 combined games played over the last four years of the deal. He was a very, very good player during his peak. He was a pretty good person, too. 

14 – Tim Hudson (1999-2004) SP: He owned a smoldering mound presence that belied his relatively slight frame. Reminded me a lot of Dave Stewart in make-up, but with a shorter, more confrontational fuse. In August of his rookie year, Hudson outdueled Boston's Pedro Martinez – 1999 Pedro Martinez! In 2000, he won his 20th game on the final day of the season – a win that earned the A's the division title. He was 92-39 in Oakland and somehow escaped unscathed from rumors that he was involved in a bar fight the night before his game four start in the 2003 ALDS – a start he'd eventually leave after just one inning due to an injury. I wish we'd seen the other guy. 

13 – Yoenis Cespedes (2012-14) CF: In three all-too-brief seasons with the A’s, Cespy was a fucking force of nature. He could be fantastic and frustrating in a single inning, but capable of doing things you’d never before seen by the end of same game. Sometimes, I think the colorful, nonconformist spirit of the original Oakland Athletics died on the day he was traded. “Buttoned-up and boring” is fine. I personally prefer fun. 

12—Harold Baines (1990-92) DH: August 29, 1990, was one of my favorite days as an A's fan. Baines' acquisition from Texas was one of those "rich get richer" deals that don't happen in Oakland, anymore. On the same day, the team traded for All Star OF Willie McGee. Baines was a machine who just went out and hit every day. His class and professionalism fit right in – usually as batting order protection for Jose Canseco. Contrast! 

11 – Mark McGwire (1986-97) 1B: I wish I could've had him higher, but his monstrous 1987 rookie season kept my expectations unrealistically raised for the rest of his Athletics career. From 1988 through 1991, he hit just .233 (Hey, batting average was really all we knew back then). He was hurt for most of 1993-1994 after signing a big money contract after his terrific 1992 season. And, then he forced the A's hand into a terrible trade with St. Louis in 1997. Eric Ludwick? T.J. Matthews? Blake Stein? Come ON! 

10 – Jason Giambi (1995-2001, 2009) 1B: I can't ever remember an A's team that was so clearly carried by one player, but that was Giambi during the 2000 season. Yes, they had great pitching and a productive offense, but Giambi put that team on his back down the stretch and the A's rallied around his leadership in a way I hadn't seen before or since in Oakland. I'll forgive him for signing with the Yankees after the 2001 season, if he agrees that his 2009 return never happened. Cool? 

9 – Carney Lansford (1983-92) 3B: I can't help but think that Lansford would get slaughtered by sabermetricians if he played today. A third baseman with uninspiring power numbers and a defensive reputation that might've been exaggerated. I'm glad I could enjoy him in the context of his era. His "shaky bat" stance is one of my favorite memories of those A's teams from 25 years ago. 

8 – Tony Kemp (2020-23) 2B/LF: I got a story to tell 

7 – Mike Norris (1975-83, 1990) SP, RP: The ace of the Billy Martin-managed "BillyBall" teams of the early 1980s, Norris was my first favorite pitcher. Arm problems and illicit drugs truncated his peak, but he made an inspiring comeback after six years away from Major League Baseball in 1990. Me and Smitty were in attendance for his one and only win that season – the last of his career. 

6 – Jose Canseco (1985-92, 1997) OF: He was the first and only super-duper star to ever play for my A's. The lens that’s used to view professional athletes through the definition of modern-day fame was fitted during Canseco’s first few years in Oakland. He’s as responsible for baseball’s 1990s boom period as anyone (I know, I know…besides that.) 

5 – Dennis Eckersley (1987-95) RP: Forget the 390 career saves…the A’s have never had a closer since Eck who made you FEEL like the game was over when he entered. When that bullpen door opened and the always-bronzed right arm began tossing warm-up pitches? The end. 

4 – Dave Parker (1988-89) DH: Ten years before he came to Oakland, Parker was a cocky, five-tool threat and the best all-around player in the game. Other than some still-respectable power, there wasn't much left in the toolbox during his two years with the A's. To compensate, he increased his arrogance tenfold. His circuitous home run trots enraged opponents and Parker gloriously didn't give a damn. 

3 – Dave Henderson (1988-93) CF: No A's player conveyed his love for the game more openly than Hendu. His broad, gap-toothed smile is one my warmest memories from those late '80s/early '90s teams. Dude had TWO different supporting fan groups in the old outfield bleachers at the Coliseum. Arbitrary endpoints notwithstanding, from 1988 to 1991, his cumulative bWAR was 20.8. Jose Canseco’s was 20.2. Dave Henderson was one of one. "They don’t boo The Hendu."

2 – Dave Stewart (1987-92, 1995) SP: A four-time 20-game winner and MVP of the 1989 World Series, my favorite moment from my all-time favorite pitcher occurred in game five of the 1992 ALCS. Down 3-1 against the eventual world champion Blue Jays, Stewart, 35, turned back the clock and pitched a complete game – 139 pitches! – seven-hitter in defeating Toronto, 6-2. 20 years later – thanks to my son Jalen – I met the man. 

1 – Rickey Henderson (1979-84, 1989-95, 1998) LF: Did you REALLY scroll all the way to bottom of this 8000-word post to see who was number one? Hell is wrong with you? WE’VE COVERED THIS BEFORE.

Saturday, June 25, 2022

#RanchoBirdnardo

Those of you who’ve stumbled across this lightly-read blog for the 15+ years(!) it’s been around surely know my son Jalen’s comic book origin story. He was born nine weeks premature. He spent five weeks in the NICU, then for six months after THAT, he was hooked up to a portable heart monitor. I’ve shared the beginnings of my boy so many times that most of you could probably finish writing this paragraph for me. Jalen weighed an ounce over three pounds when he arrived on a sunny 66-degree afternoon, seven weeks into a typical San Diego winter.

Babies are supposed to be cherubic. J looked emaciated – the overt outline of his rib cage is the one image I’ll always remember. Jalen didn’t cry cry when he was born. Instead, he released a single yelp as if someone had interrupted the most gratifying nap in the history of humanity. I was a puddle of tears as this point and my wife was propped up over a pool of her own blood (as is – apparently – the style for C-sections). My reflexive aversion took my eyes away from the cataclysm of plasma over there and to the other side of the room where Jalen was immediately assimilated into every medical invention of the electronic age.

Someone yelled out, “97!” Another nurse, apparently incredulous, responded, “97?” I didn’t recognize most of the words being thrown around the delivery room that day, but, dammit, I still knew my numbers. And, with all the confidence I could muster, I meekly asked, “What’s that mean?” It was explained to me that J’s lung capacity was at 97% and, yes, I responded by asking, “Is that good?”

At 31 weeks, preemies – on average – hover around 50% of normal newborn lung capacity. I can confirm that 97% is, in fact, “good”.

Jalen overcame so many obstacles – physical, internal, developmental – in the first few years of his life that I fell into one of the pitfalls of parenting. At some point, I started focusing on the finish line instead of the circuitous medical and therapeutic paths my son had to traverse. J had literally been fighting his entire life – hell, at times, fighting FOR his life – but, along the way, I unintentionally began to take his gumption for granted. J became an archetypal teenager full of monosyllabic brooding and a bottomless pit of 20,000 calories/day. But, it’s taken the last 12 months for his dumb ol’ dad to remember there’s nothing “typical” about this kid.

After catching for more than seven years, Jalen and his coaches agreed that his best path to playing on the high school varsity team was as an outfielder. J got spot starts in the outfield all the time during his catching days. It was always an uncomfortable watch. He was a CATCHER playing OUTFIELD. How the hell do you THINK it went? I’m not saying my wife and I would pray that the ball wouldn’t be hit to him, but when baby Jesus inevitably ignored our pleas, we’d both hold our breath so dramatically that it became one of those running jokes between the other families in our vicinity.

Last July, Jalen played in the first tournament of his final travel ball season.

By this point, J’s catching days were well into the rearview mirror. He made varsity as a junior, but his team was so loaded that he only came to the plate nine times. And, about half of those at bats were because of a midseason COVID outbreak inside our starting lineup that probably should have shut the program down. (lol @ global pandemics tho amirite guys) Jalen played all three outfield spots – often as a late-inning defensive replacement, which spoke to (a) how far he’d come with the glove and (b) the reality of last year’s starting outfield that featured a natural third baseman, pitcher and DH, from right to left, whose impressive bats won out over their gloves.

So…one more time.

Did I mention it was the FIRST tournament of the summer?

Did I mention it was the FIRST inning?

Did I mention it was the FIRST batter?

Jalen was playing centerfield and immediately saw a screaming line drive headed his way. Centerfield defense can be tricky considering the amount of ground needed to cover and the fact that fly balls often aren’t angling in a way that gives the defender enough time to read it and run to a spot to play it. It’s the quintessential instinctive position and Jalen’s instincts brought him running in. By the time he hit the brakes, it was too late. As the ball whistled past him with the momentum of C. Montgomery Burns’ failed gubernatorial campaign, Jalen’s knee buckled atop the faux Kentucky Bluegrass-blend underneath his feet.

He missed the next three weeks as the doctors couldn’t accurately assess the damage until the swelling went down. During this time, the only thing that seemed to lift Jalen’s spirits were the obligatory barbecues roasts on my dime:

J played off-and-on for the rest of the summer – mostly as the designated hitter – as we crisscrossed the Southern California travel ball tournament circuit. When the calendar came ‘round to whatever we call “autumn” out here, the Cam Fam found ourselves in Arizona during “homecoming weekend” at J’s high school. An elaborate plan was hatched involving planes, trains and automobiles that would ensure our son made it back to San Diego before the weekend was out. Oh, and speaking of “out”: He was fine! He made it back to San Diego for homecoming! Please don’t show this to my mom!

In November, with Jalen’s knee still smarting, we got him in for an MRI. He was diagnosed with a torn right patellar tendon. He’d been playing on it for about three months and the doctor gave us two options: (a) surgery – but, without an idea on how long the recovery would be until after any procedure or (b) physical therapy/pain management.

M’man Andy and pretty much all the other Little League baseball dads still give me good-natured sh t from the time J was 9 y/o and batting late in a playoff game. He fouled a ball in the dirt which ricocheted off his face. As the legend goes, it’s believed I caught Jalen in my overprotective arms before he hit the ground. A few years later, Jalen was catching in the bottom of the last inning in a tournament game. With two outs, the two-strike pitch in the dirt was swung on and missed. It got J good in the groin. As he writhed in abject agony, the runner was lumbering to first base. I helpfully coached from behind the backstop, “Goddammit, get up and throw to first!” And, he did! Then, he collapsed like a kid’s sandcastle in the surf.

(Space constraints keep me from mentioning the multiple concussions from a cavalcade of catcher collisions at home plate, so let’s keep it moving. Cool? Cool.)

The point is that baseball has kept Jalen on the business end of occasional medical observation, but this was well beyond “walking it off” or the ubiquitous “rub some dirt on it” prescription. J had to put in the work with PT – strengthening the surrounding area of the injury – if he had any hope of playing in his final high school season. And, even though his attitude was terrible (“It’s not working!”, “It still hurts!”, “Can I skip this week’s PT?”) he began to see some progress after a quick confab with his dad:

Me: How was practice?

Jalen: It sucked. My knee hurts like hell.

Me: *looks down* Are…you wearing the knee braces that the doctor told you to wear?

Jalen: No.

Me:

The varsity baseball roster situation was almost as obvious. Last year’s team graduated a ton of talent, but for all intents and purposes, there was just one open starting spot heading into the spring season – in the outfield. There were six seniors – including Jalen – in the competition for that one job. J missed the first week of the six-week “winter ball” season, but played in the remaining five games (even though he technically didn’t have medical clearance – but, again, guys: don’t tell my mom).

By the end of winter ball, one of the seniors in the mix (not Jalen) had separated himself from the pack. The always-gossiping cadre of high school baseball padres -- an honorable group of men who routinely talk sh t about you and your kids behind your back – respectfully agreed that the right decision was made in that regard. But, on opening day, who was ALSO in the outfield (and medically cleared!), starting in right and wearing the resplendent wedding gown white/bronco blue home uniform? We see you, J-bird!

BUT…he wasn’t batting. The DH hit in his spot. This happened a few times the previous season, so it was at least negligibly easier for me and Mrs. Bootleg to charge it to the game. Jalen’s first at bat of his senior year came a game or two later and he promptly singled to right field. He’d singled and doubled in his first two at bats early during his junior season – in which he’d finish 2 for 9 – so, I made every effort to film it on my phone and savor the scene. As of this writing, I’ve watched it 10,000 times, give or take.

There is an inherent dichotomy that comprises the rosters of every team sport. It’s ostensibly a meritocracy – except when it isn’t. One player’s bad luck is another player’s good fortune. An unexpected opportunity can be snatched away as fast as it was be bestowed, thanks to a performance unfairly predicated on a small sample size. In this case, due to one teammate’s serious injury and some additional circumstances elsewhere in the lineup, Jalen found himself in something of a job share for the right field job.

This went on for a few weeks, until the job was Jalen’s alone.

If you play baseball long enough, you’ll inevitably burn hot as hell at times. Maybe for a few weeks. Sometimes for a month or two. During Little League All Stars in 2014, J led the team in RBI and threw out three of four runners who tried to steal. Fast forward a few years later, at a Memorial Day weekend tournament in the blast furnace of Perris, J went 10 for 14. But, for these four months of his senior season? Whew, buddy. It was 16 weeks of clutch hits, highlight-reel defense and choreographed postgame dance celebrations with his fellow outfielders immediately after the last out.

Jalen hit .326 during the regular season and in our second playoff win, he drove in the second run and scored the third and final run in a 3-0 victory. That third run came on a sacrifice fly in which Jalen slid safely ahead of the tag, then sprang to his feet and celebrated – briefly! – over the fallen corpse of the catcher. J took several steps in the opposite direction of his dugout – sneering at the opposing fans while maintaining his stride – then peacocking back to his boys on the third base side. Both benches were warned, as the umpires tried to diffuse the tension. Meanwhile, in the stands, the opposing parents were chirping that Jalen’s slide was dirty and that he was a dirty player. This brought me and Mrs. Bootleg to our feet with what may or may not have been an open challenge for a mixed tag team match against any mom and dad who wanted to [quote] talk your sh t over here!...talk your sh t over here! [unquote]

Before their season ended in the CIF Regional Semifinals, the team held their postseason banquet. At the end of the evening, the coaches recognized and honored the seniors:

72 hours after his last high school baseball game, Jalen had his rematch with the MRI machine. It was important to ascertain how much more – if any – damage J might have sustained to his knees.

The hope was to avoid surgery if they weren’t much worse than six months ago.

The reality was that he’d not only torn the patellar tendon in his OTHER knee, but at some point during the season, Jalen had torn his right ACL, as well.

I was approaching the apex of the biggest hill that abuts Stately Bootleg Manor, walking our 15-lb mostly-decorative dog, when Mrs. Bootleg sent me the MRI results. For a minute or two (or three), I couldn’t tell where the dampness from San Diego’s early morning marine layer began and where the dampness from my eyes ended.

What happens next is anyone’s guess.

J wants to keep playing and he’s been in contact with some local JUCO coaches. He has a not-insignificant procedure at the end of June to address at least some of his knee issues. From there, it’s up to the baseball gods and the indomitable determination of the same 9 y/o who told me he wanted to be a catcher – and I doubted he could; the same 15 y/o who told me he needed to become an outfielder – and I doubted he could; the same 17 y/o who meticulously selected his pre-at bat walk-up music months before the start of his senior season, fully expecting to be in the starting lineup of the most storied high school baseball program in the county and finishing the year as an all-league honorable mention.

Take it from his dumb ol’ dad – don’t bet against the Bird.

Friday, January 22, 2021

He Had a Hammer



Henry (Hank) Aaron was the first legendary athlete I remember learning about. I don’t know how Black History Month is taught in elementary schools today, but in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the teachers made it feel like a begrudgingly obligatory lesson plan for a few fleeting afternoons. Every year, the cardboard cutouts of a lone snowflake or a “Happy New Year” sash symbolizing January on the classroom corkboard gave way to hearts and cupids for February. Over in the corner, though! – That’s where the sun-hastened aging of the images of Dr. Martin Luther King, Booker T. Washington and Harriet Tubman were stapled aloft for the umpteenth time.

Back then, there were only two or three athletes who your local school board might elevate to the exalted time-killing status of “biographical worksheet”. Althea Gibson was one because (a) she deserved it and (b) for the box she allowed teachers to check in the nascent days of the modern gender-equity movement. Henry Aaron was the other – presumably due to the recency effect over Jackie Robinson and the fact that the deification of Muhammad Ali – at least by a certain demographic – was always inversely proportional to the state of his health and the base in his voice.

Of course, Aaron’s life – as taught to us from that generation – was wildly whitewashed and distilled down to “born in Mobile, Alabama”, “played for the Braves” and “broke Babe Ruth’s home run record”. Sadly, today, even with the benefit of both societal hindsight AND actual insight from the man himself, the abhorrent racism that rained down upon him is wrongly viewed as something Aaron “ignored” or “overcame” and not the steadfast Faustian Bargain of being a black man in America.

After hearing the news of Aaron’s passing, I thought of my grandfather. When I was five-years-old, he got me one of those rickety plastic pitching “machines”. It might’ve been this one for all my memory can recollect these days. He put it together, we headed to a vacant lot – which hadn’t yet gone extinct in southern California – and before long all the neighborhood kids were playing a pick-up game. A couple of years later, I remember my grandfather watching a KTTV broadcast of his beloved Dodgers and going on and on about Houston Astros’ star-crossed fireballer J.R. Richard. My parents hated baseball, so my love for the game is mostly my grandfather’s fault.

Like Aaron, both my grandfather and father grew up under the tyrannical tenets of the Jim Crow south – America’s offspring of her Original Sin. And, neither the “National Pastime” for Aaron nor the decades of military service for my pops and grandpa were enough for large swaths of this country to consider beyond the color of their skin. (I won’t get into the unspeakable indignities my grandfather withstood from his white countrymen in the U.S. Navy, but my pops once told me that “Don’t salute no n*gger” was an acceptable unwritten rule in the Marines when he enlisted in 1968 and lasted…well, you probably don’t wanna hear about that.)

Of course, I thought about my 16-year-old son Jalen. I’ve shared his entire life with you guys – first in my old Bootleg music column from before he was born through an assortment of social media platforms today. He’s a high school junior. He’s driving. He can eat three pounds of chicken wings in a single sitting. HE WEIGHED THREE POUNDS WHEN HE WAS BORN.

He’s also a baseball player. He’s my favorite baseball player.

And, there’s a direct line from Henry Aaron to the opportunities afforded every black ballplayer who took up the fight out of obligation and chased their dream out of love and desire.

Jalen Cameron is a black baseball player.

Those opportunities are so precious, friends. And, always be mindful of who you’re entrusting with their dreams. The best advice I ever received was from another baseball dad who had a son a few years older than Jalen. “Get that boy around black baseball coaches whenever you can”, he said. “He needs to learn shit from dudes who have seen shit.”

I guess that’s why Aaron’s death has hit me so hard. The Hammer bludgeoned those ghosts of the not-so-distant-past so men like Tracy Sanders – who clubbed nearly 200 professional home runs – could impart hitting wisdom to my son since Jalen was five-years-old. And, then there’s Kennard Jones – a third-round draft pick of the Padres in 2002 – who also has worked with J at the plate and mentored him to fight to stay behind it for as long as he can, knowing that black catchers are cruelly considered anomalous.

As we approach the second year in the grip of this worldwide pandemic, I wonder – and worry – how many games my son has left to play. I wonder – and worry – about the world my wife and I are about to send J into after his baseball gear bag is inevitably buried in our backyard – a noxious disembodied essence left to haunt our neighbors’ open windows on warm summer nights. In that same world, Henry Aaron was objectively the best of humanity and endured the worst of it. When I think of my son, I know Henry’s hammer is in good hands.

Again, thank you, sir.




Tuesday, May 5, 2020

The Little League Team That (Might’ve, Probably, Kinda-Sorta) Saved Me


Anyone remember 2013?

Seven (hundred) years ago, I was not in a very good place.

“Worse than our current apocalyptic pandemic hellscape?”, you might skeptically ask?

“Shaddap and enjoy this f-ing uplifting AND FREE goddam material”, I gently reply.

You see, I didn’t realize it at the time, but like a lot of people from a certain historically underserved and/or outright ignored demographic, I needed baseball.

I’ve written about the reasons why on other social media platforms, but I was recently reminded of the 10 young men who pulled me through the first few months of that year. A week or so ago, my inbox was served an innocuous slice of spam from a Shutterfly account I created way back when. Like today’s other photo-centric medium, the Shutterfly folks offer infrequent reminders of the “memories” you’ve made along the way.




The picture in the body of the email featured the 2013 Rancho Bernardo Little League A’s sprinting towards the outfield after completing the postgame handshake line. Since I’m closer to 50 than 15, it took me a minute (or thirty) to retrieve my old password to access my account…and then create a new password when I got locked out of my account…and then IM through to a solution with customer service when I screwed THAT up.

And, after feeling like the world’s oldest doddering negro through that technological ordeal, the dozens of pictures that I could now access from our family’s recent history took me back to a time and place that pushed me past a lot of pain.

Those A’s were born on a rainy Saturday in January. The other “Minors” division managers and I met to draft our teams. One weekend earlier, we’d collectively braved one of those southern California “winter” mornings that starts out at 38 degrees and ends up around 88. Tryouts are a trip, man. Grown men in lawn chairs positioned precariously at the lip of where the infield dirt kisses the outfield grass. We’re armed with clipboards, notepads and perpetual poker faces – lest ANYONE betray their emotions on that seventh-round sleeper you hope slips to you.

(Before we proceed, I need to ONCE AGAIN remind you guys that Little League Baseball EXPLICITLY prohibits discussing “draft room” information and the release of such privileged information can result in discipline up to – and including – the loss of the local league’s charter. So, pretend I’m WHISPERING the next couple of paragraphs, people.)

I drew the short straw, so I picked last in the first round. The upside, though, is that (1) I’d have back-to-back picks throughout in the “snake” draft format and (2) I’d have first choice in team name. Heh.

My first pick was a kid named Jack. He’d become one of my favorite players I’ve ever coached. Aside from his off-the-charts athleticism, he was the son of a Marine, so instead of “coach”, he called me “sir”. I followed that up by taking Michael. I didn’t know anything about him beforehand, but I soon learned that I’d chosen wisely when, after the draft, two other managers approached me and made trade offers for him.

The manager’s kid is always designated as the third round pick, so be sure to derisively remind Jalen that he wasn’t a first or second-rounder next time you see him. Each manager can claim one of his coach’s kids as a fourth round pick. This, for me, landed Bennett – the son of two NCAA Division I athletes who exuded confidence for days. All of the days, actually.

In the fifth round, I selected Jordan. He was an 11-year-old who played in the Minors division the year before and – surprisingly – was not drafted into Majors (the highest Little League level for age-eligible players). I explicitly remember the order of my first five picks, but the specifics of the next five are a bit fuzzy. In fact, we actually had to redo the ENTIRE draft a day later because the league president erroneously allowed a geographically ineligible player in the original pool.

While sportsmanship is ostensibly the heartbeat of Little League, its main arteries regularly leak with the congealed drip of gossiping. Not long after the draft, I was told that Jordan’s spot on my team might be in jeopardy. He and his family were understandably disappointed that he wasn’t playing in Majors. I didn’t have the frame of reference to determine whether or not he deserved to play a level higher, but from the perspective of a prepubescent’s pride? It’s loosely akin to being held back a grade.

To his credit, Jordan showed up at our first practice. He was at least a full head taller than anyone else and – I can now say – he should’ve been playing at a level higher. Ten minutes in and it was clear he was the best player on the field. I’m not sure what happened at tryouts, but the entire upper division whiffed on him. I pulled him aside after that first practice and asked him to be the leader of this team. I genuinely empathized with his earlier disappointment and he seemed to appreciate that. Jordan accepted my request with a terse “Sure, coach” and added, “Anything you need”.

Jordan’s maturity belied his age and I was fortunate to have two such kids on this squad. Early on, Michael established himself as the team’s starting catcher. Around this time, my son Jalen had asked to get some reps behind the plate, too. Today, if you ask Jalen, he’ll tell you that I openly doubted his ability, determination and fortitude to play the most physically demanding position on the field. (And, I did!) Who knew, though, that Michael would take J under his wing and show him the techniques behind the “tools of ignorance”?

Even at this juvenile level, players are fiercely protective of their positions. And, here was Michael – with his own catcher’s gear and just a year older than Jalen – taking time during practices to mentor the player who might cut into his playing time. Hell, Michael’s dad Jason – who was my other assistant coach – even supported my son. I’ll never be able to fully express my gratitude to these two for their selflessness. At the infinitely more competitive travel ball and high school levels – where J now plays – parents actively (and not always secretly) root against anyone who might usurp their son’s spot. If y’all ever see me in these streets, ask me to tell you about the time last year when Jalen was on the bench and his back-up [REDACTED].

Aside from the above, my fondest memory of those preseason practices was the “boot camp club” that Jack’s mom started. Several of the other A’s moms – including Mrs. Bootleg – would be working out just beyond the outfield wall while their sons sweated it out for two hours under the sun. And, lest you think everyone in the Cam Fam was exercising except me, I can assure that the ONLY shade to sit in was alongside some trees that were located a short WALK and UP a slight INCLINE from the field. And, have any of you have ever tried to sit on an upside-down orange bucket from Home Depot? Woo, lawd, those booty indentations.

Believe it or not, I don’t remember EVERY moment from every Little League season. But, I do remember a few:

In our first game, we played against m’man Andy and his Diamondbacks. We lost something like 11-4. During the game, one of my players – a sweet, soft-spoken kid named Joe – was on first base and on a ground ball, he headed towards second. He got there safely, but actually ran THROUGH the bag. No, not towards third base. He ran through it as if it were first base. Next thing I knew, he was standing in short left field. Spoiler alert: he was out.

Our first win came a few games later. I told this story in my post on the 2014 Little League All Star team I managed. We were down one heading into the bottom of the sixth inning. Michael led off with a double and up came Bennett. I implored him to not be nervous and get a good swing. He calmly replied, “I’m never nervous” then tripled in Michael before Jordan singled him home for the walk-off win.

Speaking of Jordan…I don’t have the old scorebooks anymore, but at the end of that season I calculated that Jordan pitched roughly one-third of the total innings we played that year. At around the midway point, his mother emailed me to let me know that Jordan was experiencing arm soreness. Like any caring coach, I remember replying with legitimate concern and one question: “Just to be clear, is it his throwing arm?”

Another important pitcher on our team was Abhi. He finished the season with an ERA under 3.00, but every pitching appearance was a wonderfully turbulent roller coaster. Abhi didn’t throw hard and he’d give up a couple of hits in each inning, but then he’d always buckle down and drop a loopy off-speed pitch or an almost-fastball at the knees to get the third out. Of all the kids I’ve ever coached, Abhi probably was the closest comparable to my son’s competitive streak. Once, after Jalen had pitched a mercy-rule-shortened shutout, Abhi calmly raised his hand in our postgame meeting, stood up and calmly pronounced, “I should be pitching more, coach.” Chutzpah!

I mentioned earlier that Michael was our catcher. He was also our leadoff hitter. And, during a game against a team from neighboring 4S Ranch, Michael slapped the first pitch of the game, one-hopping it straight to the centerfielder. Then, in something never seen before or since, the centerfielder threw Michael out at first base. It was a scorching hot Saturday afternoon and the 60-feet sprint left Michael almost asphyxiated. “What the hell happened?”, I asked. “Coach”, Michael said breathlessly, “I’’m…just not that fast…”

Before going any further, I gotta mention Sam. In one of our early practices, Sam stood in the batter’s box against Jalen. As a pitcher, J was famous for two things: (1) his “three-finger” change-up and (2) inadvertently hitting every third or fourth batter he faced. And, GUESS where this is going! After Sam got stung between the shoulder blades, he spent the first few months of the season bailing out in the batter’s box.

He never abandoned his enthusiasm, though. In the penultimate game of the regular season, he notched his first hit – a booming double to the wall. Sure, Sam forgot to step on first base (no one else noticed!) and while he was standing on second base, grinning ear-to-ear, one of the coaches on the other team called out to his son, who was pitching, and bellowed, “YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!” Sam later came home on a double, but forgot to step on third base (this time, someone noticed!)




Early in the season, Jalen was struggling at the plate. Back then, when J was in a slump, he’d become borderline uncoachable. I don’t know WHERE he got his obnoxious stubborn streak from, but let’s just say his momma’s the same way. On this evening, we were facing the Nationals. Their starting pitcher would go on to make the All Star team that spring. I pulled J aside before he strode to the plate. “You think you can get a bunt down?”, I asked – mostly out of desperation on behalf of Jalen’s desperation. “You mean a drag bunt, like for a hit?”, J replied, as he tried and failed to contain his excitement at the idea.

On the first pitch, J laid down a bunt that rolled jaggedly over the poorly-manicured dirt and up the first base line. The pitcher barehanded the ball and threw it away (although, Jalen has been pointing out for seven years that he would’ve beat it out, anyway), allowing J to run all the way to third. The poor pitcher wouldn’t record another out that inning, as he was pulled several batters later.

We finished the season with a respectable record, but our team got hotter’n fish grease during the postseason. We won our first three playoff games and made it to the championship. One of those games manages to live in infamy between me and the other baseball dads. After building up a big lead early, our opponents started chipping away – turning a 9-1 deficit into a 9-8 nail-biter. In the bottom of the 5th inning, Jalen came to bat. He fouled a pitch straight down, then the ball ricocheted right off his face.

Now…to hear SOME people tell it…I sprang from the dugout and was cradling J in my arms before he hit the ground. Obviously, that’s IMPOSSIBLE (try as I might). As a nice-sized mouse was swelling under my son’s eye, my wife sprang into action and commandeered my M*A*S*H unit. We’d hang on to the win the game, with J – and his one operable eye – selfishly begging me to put him back in at catcher for the last out.

Sometimes, though, the Cinderella story has a sh t ending.

Poor Jordan gutted it out for his team, but after three months of me Billy Martin-izing his arm, he didn’t have much left in his right wing. It was a double-elimination tournament, so we had one more shot, though. Bennett cut short a camping trip – driving more than four hours back to San Diego – JUST to make the start on the mound in our final game. He pitched great and left with a lead, but my bullpen turned it from 3-2 us into  5-3 them.

It was a disappointing end, to be sure, but I still look back fondly on those knuckleheads. About half the team would go on to play high school baseball in the ridiculously competitive San Diego County confines. (I didn’t mention Alex above, but he was named Freshman Pitcher of the Year at his high school.) A couple of kids walked away from the game for greener pastures in other sports. Still others left sports behind for good. But, like I said…I needed baseball that spring. And, those ten boys gave that gift to me.

Thank you.

(A's on three! A's on three!)