Casey played in the 1923 World Series for the Giants, flipping the Yankees bench the bird when he hit a homer. He managed some awful teams, but when he got the Yankees in the late ’40s he revolutionized the game with platooning and relief pitching. He pissed off DiMaggio by not being reverent enough and thought Mickey Mantle was a wastrel. When he was fired at seventy after a rare World Series loss, he said, “I’ll never make the mistake of being seventy again.” He fills out the lineup card any way he wants to.
Best hitter on a team of big hitters, the Big Red Machine of the 1970s. Bench also ruined catching for decades by being so goddamn good. He could catch with one hand and throw guys out from his knees. Now everyone does it, but not with his gun.
He gave the best dying speech in baseball history, and he could larrup, as the old-time sportswriters said. His old-school German mother brought bags of eels into the Yankee clubhouse as a treat. He was so dominant no one objected.
An annoying announcer, he was a superb all-around player. He could run, hit, steal, and win pennants all while being munchkin-sized. Every team he played for was better because he was on it. Arm flapping at the dish and stealing with ease despite his lack of speed. He was the hustlingest and bright as the Dickens.
Bill James said that if Schmidt had hit .320, he would be the greatest player of all time. There have been better fielders, but none could slug and field the way Schmitty did. Sorry, George Brett and Brooks Robinson. You are both still divine.
Sorry, Jeter, you have more rings, but the Flying Dutchman was simply the best player in baseball. He played virtually every position before settling at shortstop and was beloved all over the country. When he quit playing, he was a coach and talked baseball with the fans throughout the game and after over beers. One of the kindest men who ever played.
You need reasons? Ninety-seven wins as a pitcher, 714 home runs as a player. Everyone in the league made more money because of him. He ate every pancake, shagged every doll, drank every beer, and made time for every kid. He called the president “Prez.” Drove an open-air car and wore driving gloves while smoking a cigar. Awesome.
Center is crowded. Mantle and DiMaggio won more championships. But Mays was the most infectious player to strap on cleats. Hat flying, arms windmilling, smile blazing; he did everything with daring and great skill. A genius of the game and the biggest drawing card in his era. Willie Mays is baseball.
A giant of a human. Soft-spoken, sensitive, and smart as a whip, Aaron was the first to break Ruth’s home-run mark, for which he endured vile death threats and came through with dignity. Superb outfielder, awesome slugger, enlightened executive, great human being.
Unbeatable after he learned control. Sensitive and intelligent. Quit before he was hurt for a lifetime. Four no-hitters in consecutive years. He also threw a perfect game. Huge hands that can hold five balls at once. All you can say is “Wow.”
Johnson had 417 wins for a mediocre team, the Washington Senators—“First in war, first in peace, and last in the American League.” Republican. Nice guy. Deadly fastball. Threw sidearm buggy-whip style.
He was just the living end to a game. Played till he was a hundred, almost.
He also makes All-Time Controversial Team, but you want him on yours.
Tom Terrific to you, mortal. Miracle Mets and just plain great.
When they name the award after you, then he sits. Until then, stand in breathless wonder.
Two A’s, two unforgettable mustaches. Lots of saves.
He is a titan, best hurt player ever. If not hurt, best player ever.
The first, greatest Latin player. Fierce, dedicated, and proud.
Fuck you if he don’t.
Super fuck you.
It is my book.
He has the rings and all the shiny things. Dated the world. Saved the franchise.
Put the Brave in Home of the Brave.
Campy won three MVPs catching.