Baseball Remembers: Dave Parker

Today’s edition is a bit late, because the news broke over the weekend that Dave Parker passed away from the effects of Parkinson’s disease and I made a late decision to shift things around here.

As you likely already know, Parker was elected to the Hall of Fame earlier this year, and would have been formally inducted next month. With his passing, he joins a long, sad list of players who died before they could formally be inducted. It was just Friday that I noted Ron Santo had suffered the same fate a few years ago, something that’s also impacted Buck O’Neill recently and Parker’s fellow 2025 inductee, Dick Allen. In their cases they died before even being elected, a fate Parker was spared, but the fact that he was never able to see his plaque on the wall, or give the induction speech he’d earned the right to make, is sad beyond words.

Parker left a massive impression on any baseball fan who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, as I did. And I mean that literally. He was an enormous man physically on top of being an enormous presence on the field. I grew up as a Red Sox fan, and was a fan of Jim Rice. He, too, was a big guy, listed at 6’2” and over 200 pounds, and dwarfed other members of the Red Sox. Seeing him scoop up an injured Jerry Remy and carry him from the field like he was a toddler made it clear exactly how big and strong he was. But then I saw this cover of Sports Illustrated:

There’s Jim Rice big, then there’s Dave Parker big. (Sports Illustrated)

That was the moment I realized that while Rice was big, Parker was apparently a giant. That cover came out the same season Parker made his circus-act throw in the All-Star game, won the game’s MVP award, then hit .341 in the postseason as the Pirates won the World Series. He was never the same player after that, but the impression had already been made.

Maybe it’s because of that youthful impression, or maybe it was just a coincidence of timing, but Parker is someone I’ve written about quite a bit in the last couple of years. Mostly that surrounded his Hall of Fame case, one that I came around to supporting after several years of feeling that he fell just short. When reviewing the ballots for last year’s elections I noted that I wouldn’t have voted for him, but that was more a function of the poor structure of the election process that limits voters to just three votes than it had to do with his actual case. That now seems representative of Parker’s entire election saga over the years, as the writers focused more on what he didn’t do on the field than what he did. They focused a lot on the mistakes he made off the field, too. And then the convoluted Veterans/Era Committee process threw up more obstacles to election than it should, delaying his election even more.

And now he’s gone, having been able to enjoy the knowledge of his election for only five months. That makes me both sad and angry. Sad for him, but also angry at him for that mid-career lapse that gave the voters so much pause. Sad for his family and fans. Angry at the Hall’s voters and process. Angry at myself for what I now feel was an overly harsh assessment of his career. Sad for everyone is baseball who won’t get to hear him give that speech.

Rest in Peace, Cobra.

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Back in February, I wrote something about how we view baseball players’ careers, using a contrast of Carlos Beltrán and Dave Parker to illustrate. Which of them had the “better” career, and what does that word even mean in the context of a baseball career? It summarized my ultimate feelings about Parker’s place in baseball history, so here it is again, unlocked for everyone.

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What makes for a great career?

This question was spawned by a relatively benign comparison posted to Twitter shortly after this year’s Hall of Fame results were announced. Essentially the poster was asking (I think) who was the better player, Carlos Beltrán or Dave Parker.

But he didn’t ask it precisely that way. Sure, I think he wants to know who we feel was the better player on the field during their respective careers. That’s how these things are usually intended. But it’s possible he wanted to know exactly what he asked, which is who had the better career, and that can be a very different thing than who played the best baseball depending on how we define career success.*

It could mean simply who played the best. Or it could mean who won the most. Or was honored the most. Or was respected or remembered the most. Or was paid the most. Or who did the most with the talent they were given. Or some combination of all of the above, plus other things I haven’t thought of yet.

(*Note: I’m really only talking about sports here. Someone in a non-sports field is going to have any number of reasons for thinking their career choices are great (or not) that have little to do with the way we view an athlete’s career.)

I doubt there’s any one answer that can be given to that question. Everyone is going to have a slightly different definition of what a good career should look like. But let’s try to answer anyway, for these two players specifically. Maybe in doing so we’ll come to some conclusions about how we could or should view other players’ careers as well.

We’ll start with my initial assumption, which is to decide whether Parker or Beltrán was the better player on the field. You can see their summarized career stats above, nearly all of which favor Beltrán.

That fits. He played one more season than Parker did, had more 100 RBI seasons, more seasons scoring 100 runs, more seasons hitting 20 homers (or 30 homers, or 40 homers), more seasons stealing 20 bases (or 30 bases, or 40 bases), and was a good defender at a harder position, and stayed valuable in the field for longer than Parker did. Beltrán got a couple of extra All-Star appearances, and nine years with a WAR total over 4.0 compared to just five for Parker. He also had more 5.0 WAR seasons, and just as many 6.0 WAR seasons, and had the highest single-season WAR total between the two when he totaled 8.2 in 2006. Beltrán played in over twice as many playoff games as Parker and had a much better OPS in the postseason, 1.021 to .647. Put that all together and it seems like a better career.

But…

Parker held a more prominent place in the leagues in which he played, by quite a bit. He led his league in far more things. He won two batting titles, and led the league in slugging twice, and in total bases three times. At various points he also led the league in hits, doubles, RBI, OPS, and OPS+. Parker led the league in WAR once as well, and in games played. Defensively, Parker led the league in putouts five times, range three times, fielding runs twice, and outfield assists once. All of this swamps Beltrán’s totals. He never led the league in any major offensive category, led in games played one time, and led in a few defensive categories (putouts twice, range twice, assists four times, fielding runs twice).

All of this translated to Parker being recognized more by award voters at the end of his campaigns. He got MVP votes in nine different seasons, including six top-10 finishes, five top-5 finishes, and won it in 1978. Beltrán got MVP votes in seven seasons, with just two top-10 finishes, his best being a 4th-place finish in 2006. So, from the perspective of accolades, it seems that Parker had the better career.

Carlos Beltrán had a wonderful career, and better overall numbers than Dave Parker. But that’s not the only way to define career success. (Getty Images)

In terms of team success, Parker has Beltrán beaten there, too. He came up with the Pirates of the 1970s, who were already good, and reached the playoffs with them three times, including the 1979 World Series title. Then he played on some very good Reds teams that finished second three times in a row, then reached the World Series with the A’s in back-to-back seasons, including another title in 1989. He finished his career with a Blue Jays squad that won their division, though he joined the roster too late to play in the playoffs with them. Overall his teams had winning records in 14 of his 19 seasons, with a combined winning percentage of .537.

For Beltrán, he came up with a really bad Royals team that posted just one winning record in his seven seasons and never made the playoffs. He was traded at the deadline in 2004 and made the playoffs with the Astros, but quickly moved on to the Mets, where it was pretty up-and-down for seven years. There were winning records and a playoff appearance in 2006 followed by a couple of losing years before he was traded at the deadline again, this time to the Giants. Then came his ring chasing years. He signed with the Cardinals and they made the playoffs in two straight years, then signed with the Yankees where they again made the playoffs once, found himself traded yet again in 2016, this time to the Rangers for another playoff appearance. He finally ended his career with a season in Houston in which they won the World Series but it’s now viewed as horribly tainted due to their sign-stealing scandal in which Beltrán apparently played a major role. Overall his teams had winning records in 12 of his 20 years, with an overall winning percentage of .505.

Advantage, Parker.

On the financial end of things, Beltrán of course swamps Parker. He played in a great era for players and signed four different free agent deals. He earned over $221 million in his career, and the economics of Parker’s era imply weren’t going to allow him to approach that. Even with inflation rates taken into account he can’t come close. For instance, his $110,000 salary when he was 26 years old in 1977 translates to about $334,000 in 2003. In the year Beltrán turned 26 and made $6 million. Even Parker’s groundbreaking contract in 1979 that made him the first player to surpass $1 million in a season can’t touch Beltrán. Between actual salary and pro-rated signing bonus, and subtracting deferred money, Parker made $775,000 in 1979 when he was 28 years old. Beltrán was 28 in 2005, the same year he signed with the Mets and had a salary over $11.5 million. There’s no amount of inflation that’s going to bring Parker’s salary at that age anywhere close to Beltrán’s.

Despite the enormous monetary gap, and the better overall career statistics that Beltrán accumulated, I’d have to say that Parker’s career is probably viewed by fans and players as the more successful of the two. He was honored more, and won more, and was the best in his league more often. He was, and is, revered in Pittsburgh where he played 11 of his 19 years and was a member of the team’s Hall of Fame long before he was elected to baseball’s Hall of Fame a couple of months ago. I think it’s probably just a matter of time before his number is retired there, and there’s talk of building him a statue outside of PNC Park, which would fit nicely among the ones that already honor Willie Stargell, Bill Mazeroski, and Roberto Clemente. Dave Parker was loved, certainly in Pittsburgh, and elsewhere across baseball, too. His mid-career struggles with drugs and his conditioning have largely been forgiven, particularly after he came back from them to win another World Series, and go to three more All-Star games, and have a couple more top-5 MVP finishes.

Beltrán has the money, sure. And his final career numbers of more impressive. Year-in and year-out he was probably the more consistent, more valuable player on the field. But he was a nomad chasing a ring in his final years, after not staying long enough in either Kansas City or New York to be revered by either fan base before moving on. He’s not in any team’s Hall of Fame, and the stain on his career as he broke baseball’s rules to get that elusive ring in his final season cost him a job, and his reputation, and, so far, has cost him a spot in Cooperstown, too. It’s doubtful there’s going to be a Beltrán statue built at any of his stops along the way, and though I expect him to get that plaque in the Hall of Fame soon, probably even next year, I can’t see many people stopping at his likeness in the years to come to reminisce about him.

But they’ll do that for Parker, most certainly. People who grew up in Pittsburgh are going to travel to Cooperstown this summer to see him inducted, and in later years they’ll come back, and stop in front of his plaque, and talk about their memories of him. “Oh, there’s The Cobra,” they’ll say, and their faces will light up a bit. “You should have seen him hit/run/throw. He was the best.”

They’ll say that because, for a time, it was true. The numbers of his plaque will mostly be less impressive than Beltrán’s, but his place in the memories of those who saw him play has been secured for a long time now. He would have been remembered with that same reverence whether the Hall of Fame had ultimately elected him or not. That’s something Carlos Beltrán almost certainly will never be able to claim.

So who was the better player on the field? Probably Carlos Beltrán, and if you want to say that means he had the better career, too, you certainly have a case for that point of view.

But, in the ways that matter the most to fans, and to the people in the press box, and to the players who shared the field with him, I think most of them would rather have had Dave Parker’s career if given the choice.

I think folks would take Dave Parker’s career over Carlos Beltrán’s if given the choice. (Getty Images)

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