My Favorite Player

The Baseball Analysts (www.baseballanalysts.com) recently ran a very cool series in which they asked a number of baseball writers and analysts who their favorite player of all-time was. I always like to read or hear about the favorite things in peoples' lives because I feel like it says something about each individual. What was fun about reading that series was the fact that many of the top analytical minds in baseball today had favorite players when they were growing up that didn't necessarily possess all (or, in some cases, even a few) of the skills deemed essential today to be an above-average major league ballplayer. Yet, they still look back with fondness on that player with whom they had a special bond, regardless of what their own ground-breaking analysis tells them about that player now.

Now, you might think that growing up in the '80's in Kansas City would make me a lock to have George Brett as a hero. I certainly loved watching and listening to him play, but I may have taken his Hall of Fame caliber skills for granted.

I was six years old when I first remember thinking about baseball and George Brett was a focal point. It was 1980 and Brett was in the midst of an historical chase for the .400 mark. I remember wearing a "George Brett For President" t-shirt and my grandma had an inflatable donut seat cushion with the same slogan, in response to Brett's struggles with hemorrhoids that year. The Royals had a great year and made it to the World Series where they lost to the Phillies. The next summer, I remember going on vacation with the family to Pennsylvania and getting in arguments with the neighbor girls about the Phillies and Royals. I specifically remember coming up with such persuasive arguments as "There's Pete Rose; let's punch him in the nose," and "There's Tug McGraw; let's punch him in the jaw."

And in 1985, when the Royals won the World Series, he was the heart and soul of my hometown team. But for some reason, I never did completely connect with him. There was always some odd story floating around about him. He was a party boy who dated lots of women, one of whom happened to be on my mom's bowling team. After a number of years in Kansas City and never having found one of those women to settle down with, rumors started circulating that he was gay. And he lived just down the street from the owner, Ewing Kauffman, in the most expensive neighborhood in town. Maybe all those things made him seem out of reach.

Then, in 1987, I found a connection. It was actually a pretty lousy year for me. I had just entered 7th grade and the transition to middle school wasn't kind. My lackadaisical study skills, which netted me A's and B's in grade school, translated poorly and left a knot in my stomach the majority of my time in middle school. But I still loved baseball. I collected baseball cards and that year yielded the rookie card for Will Clark. I thought it was cool that he homered on his very first major league pitch (against Nolan Ryan, no less). So, I decided to follow him and the Giants in the box scores that year. He had a great year and the Giants ended up winning the NL West. I had a friend in school who lived and died with the Cardinals, who won the NL East. And that match-up in the playoffs kindled somewhat of a friendly rivalry between the two of us. We would come to school each day, touting the effectiveness of our respective teams from the night before. The Cardinal went on to beat the Giants and go to the World Series that year, but Will Clark had a pretty good series and I had found a player I wanted to emulate.

He had an absolutely beautiful left-handed, uppercut swing, better than Brett's, in my opinion. He could hit for average, hit for power and field his position very well. What I liked most about him, though, was the fact that he was a true ballplayer. He wasn't afraid to get his uniform dirty. He went hard into second base to break up double-plays. He had a look of intensity on his face all throughout the game. He had such a high degree of confidence that he was often mistaken for being cocky. But his M.O. was always the same: do whatever is necessary to win the ball game.

Then there was the epic showdown in the 1989 National League Championship Series. The Giants were facing the Cubs who had a pretty good young first baseman of their own in Mark Grace. Their showdown would be one for the history books. Over the five-game series, Grace would put up this unbelievable line:



G AB H 2B 3B HR RBI BB AVG OBP SLG

5 17 11 3 1 1 8 4 .647 .682 1.118



But my hero had the kind of series that makes legends. In Game One, Clark went 4-for-4 with two homeruns (one of which was a grand slam), and six RBI to single-handedly win the game for the Giants. After being held to one hit in a Game Two loss, he came back to get two hits in Game Three, three hits (including two doubles) in Game Four and to cap off the series, he had three more hits in the final game to put up this line:


G AB H 2B 3B HR RBI BB AVG OBP SLG

5 20 13 3 1 2 8 2 .650 .682 1.200


He was simply unstoppable. Which comes as little surprise after the performance he generated in the regular season which Bill James describes in Win Shares as "the best hitter's season of the '80s."

Will Clark went on to have a productive, if not spectacular, finish to his career. He ended up in Texas for a while, which seemed strange to me after seeing him in a Giants uniform. But it was quite a thrill to know that I would finally get to see him play in person at Kauffman Stadium. I went to the ballpark early the first time the Rangers came to town, hoping to get an autograph, but had no success. But he did look me right in the eye when I shouted out his name and told me I'd have to wait until after the game. It may not seem like much, but it was the highlight of my time following his career.

He had some injury-plagued seasons in Baltimore and ended up with St. Louis, filling in for an injured Mark McGwire and putting up respectable numbers before retiring. It was definitely a sad day for me when I heard that he had decided to hang 'em up. And while he didn't quite put up a Hall of Fame-caliber career, he did end up placing in the Top 150 players in all-time Win Shares. A very good career, to be sure.

Now that I'm a little bit older, I can't really say I have a favorite player. I do like Jim Edmonds, as his style of play reminds me of Will Clark. And I absolutely love watching young Zack Greinke pitch, using the most imagination of any player I've ever seen. But when you really get down to it, your childhood hero is like a first kiss; there won't ever be another one like it. And that is certainly the case for me.