Monday
This was the anniversary of Dan Quisenberry’s untimely death in 1998, so I’m going to take the opportunity to remind you all yet again that his career numbers were virtually indistinguishable from those of Bruce Sutter, who is now a member of the Baseball Hall of Fame.
Their styles were obviously quite different. Sutter threw that wicked split-fingered fastball and struck out 20% of the batters he faced, an excellent rate at the time he played. Quisenberry, with his memorable submarine delivery, wasn’t built for that. He threw sinkers that hitters pounding into the turf at then-Royals Stadium, where they could be turned into outs by the likes of George Brett, U.L. Washington, and Frank White. He struck out fewer than half as many hitters as Sutter, but he had far more ways to help his team win.
Sutter issued 226 unintentional walks in his career; Quisenberry issued just 92.
Sutter threw 37 wild pitches; Quisenberry incredibly threw just 4.
Sutter never picked off any runners; Quisenberry picked off 9.
Sutter’s range as a defender was okay, 2.03 chanced per nine innings; Quisenberry’s was a remarkable 3.11.
Quisenberry knew what to do with the many comebackers he induced, starting 22 double plays over the years compared to just 9 Sutter was involved in.
That quirky delivery, and equally quirky personality, didn’t get as much recognition over the years from fans, writers, and other players. Sutter fit their image of the classic bullpen fireman, so he made more All-Star teams and won a Cy Young Award in 1979 (that almost certainly should have gone to Phil Niekro or J.R. Richard). Quisenberry looked like a high school English teacher who was given a Royals uniform for some reason, and that odd picture simply didn’t resonate as much. When his name appeared on the Hall of Fame ballot for the first time in 1996 he received just 18 votes and fell off the ballot. Two years later he was dead from a brain tumor.
But the fact that Sutter was elected to the Hall of Fame eight years after Quisenberry’s passing shouldn’t fool you into thinking he was better. Dan Quisenberry was every bit as good as Bruce Sutter, just in a completely different way. And he was a helluva smart, funny, interesting man as well.
Tuesday
Tuesday was Rod Carew’s 79th birthday, and while there were glowing tributes to his hitting excellence published in many places, I’d rather focus on the remarkable stand he took against bigotry that saw his time in Minnesota come to an end.
In September, 1978, just as the season was coming to an end and Carew was wrapping up his seventh batting title, Twins owner Calvin Griffith spoke at a Lions Club meeting in Waseca, Minnesota, apparently unaware that a reporter from one of the Minneapolis newspapers was in attendance. He let rip with a string of insults targeting the team’s best current and former players, including Carew, Tony Oliva, and Larry Hisle, all of whom were Latino or Black.
In case that subtle racism wasn’t clear enough, Griffith decided to remove all subtlety when explaining why he moved the team from Washington, DC, almost 20 years earlier:
"I'll tell you why we came to Minnesota. It was when we found out you only had 15,000 blacks here. Black people don't go to ballgames, but they'll fill up a rassling ring and put up such a chant it'll scare you to death. We came here because you've got good, hardworking white people here."
News of his rant broke on October 1, the day after the season ended. When it reached Carew, he was as angry as you’d expect him to be, but he also enjoyed playing for the Twins, the only organization he’d ever played for. He had signed a contract extension in 1976, and was considering signing another one because he was comfortable in Minnesota, his home for the last 12 years. It would have been easy for him to leverage Griffith’s gaffe into an even better deal and let bygones be bygones.
But that’s not what Carew decided to do. Instead, he used his considerable clout in baseball to make a point about Griffith in particular and racist baseball owners in general. He spoke to reporters and told them that he refused to be a “n_____ on a plantation and play for a bigot. The days of Kunta Kinte (the lead character in the book and mini-series “Roots”) are over. I hope somebody gets wind of this and I hope they drag him down. He respects nobody and expect nobody to respect him.” Then he spat on the floor, and said “Spit on Calvin Griffith.”
As if that wasn’t clear enough, Carew then made it perfectly clear he would never play in Minnesota again. “I will never sign another contract with this organization. I don’t care how much money or how many options Calvin Griffith offers me. I definitely will not be back next year.”
His contract extension was expiring, but the Twins still owned his negotiating rights in those early days of free agency. After Carew’s remarks, they decided to trade him to the California Angels, a move he had to approve, where he signed a 5-year, $4 million contract that temporarily made him the highest paid player in baseball.
Griffith apologized profusely, and his comments were forgotten long enough for him to have a statue in his honor placed outside of the Twins’ ballpark. In 2020, during the racial unrest that stemmed from the murder of George Floyd, the Twins decided to remove the statue. When asked about the decision, Carew said he understood it even though he had forgiven Griffith years earlier.
"I understand and respect the Minnesota Twins’ decision to remove the Calvin Griffith statue outside Target Field," Carew said in a statement. "While I've always supported the Twins decision to honor Calvin with a statue, I also remember how inappropriate and hurtful his comments were on that fateful day in Waseca. The Twins did what they felt they needed to do for the organization and for our community. While we cannot change history, perhaps we can learn from it."
Wednesday
The great relief pitcher for the Dodgers and Twins, Ron Perranoski, died on this date in 2020. He rarely remembered now as one of the best relievers in the early days of relief specialists, and that might be because he’s a good example of someone who’s reputation would be enhanced if he’d retired earlier.
As it stands, his full career leaves him ranked as the 59th-best reliever of all-time in Jay Jaffe’s JAWS system, and that’s largely because he hung around for three years at the end of his career when he was largely unpitchable. From 1971 to 1973, he bounced from the Twins to the Tigers, then back to the Dodgers, and finally to the Angels, and was pretty bad at every stop. His composite numbers for those years were:
3 wins and 8 losses
7 saves and 9 blown saves
5.30 ERA
67 ERA+
1.710 WHIP
-3.3 WAR
That performance obviously dragged down his overall career numbers, but for the decade before that he was one of the finest relievers in baseball. For the 10 seasons from 1961 to 1970 he was 76-66 with 171 saves in 226 opportunities, had a 2.54 ERA and 135 ERA+, led the league in appearances three times and in saves and games finished twice each, finished 4th in MVP voting in 1963 and 7th in Cy Young voting in 1970, and was part of two World Series winners.
Perrinski totaled 22.1 WAR in that decade, and if he’d retired immediately after that instead of going through three years of struggles, he wouldn’t rank 59th all-time in the JAWS system. Instead he’d be tied for 26th with Kent Tekulve.
I know it’s hard for a ballplayer to walk away, but sometimes it really is for the best.
Thursday
Thursday marked the nine-year anniversary of Max Scherzer’s second no-hitter of the season in 2015. On June 20 that year he no-hit the Pirates in Washington, running his record to 8-5 and lowering his ERA to 1.76. Then he had a pretty rough second half of the season. Over his next 17 starts he was just 4-7 with a 4.12 ERA, and the Nationals lost 10 of those starts as they fell out of contention.
Scherzer’s record for the year was just 12-12 when he took the mound on September 28 and pitched well against the Reds, earning a 5-1 win while giving up just 2 hits and striking out 10. He looked more like the version of himself who had pitched that no-hitter and June, and that was even more clear when he started on the road against the Mets in his final game of the season on October 3.
The Mets had already clinched the division title, so they didn’t have the greatest lineup on the field. Rookie Michael Conforto batted third, and journeyman infielder Kelly Johnson was batting fifth, while Kirk Nieuwenhuis played center field and batted sixth.
It probably wouldn’t have mattered who played that day, though, because Scherzer was out of his mind. He retired the side in order in the first, including two strikeouts, then did the same in the second with another strikeout. Then again in the third with two more strikeouts, and again in the fourth with his sixth strikeout of the day. There were a couple of hard-hit balls, but for the most part he was simply cruising.
Scherzer struck out two more in the fifth before the perfect game was lost on an error Yunel Escobar on a ball hit by Kevin Plawecki to lead off the sixth. It didn’t matter, though, because Scherzer got the next three hitters. And then the next three, all by strikeout. And then the next three, also all by strikeout. He arrived in the ninth inning having allowed just that one baserunner while striking out 15 Mets.
Pinch-hitter Yoenis Céspedes became #16 to lead off the inning.
Pinch-hitter Lucas Duda became #17 for the second out.
When leadoff hitter Curtis Granderson popped up a 2-2 pitch to end the game, Scherzer had completed his second no-hitter of the season and nearly had a perfect game. It made him part of a very exclusive club, one of just six pitchers who have thrown two no-hitters in the same season.
Johnny Vander Meer*, 1938. The only guy to do it in back-to-back starts, June 11 against the Braves and June 15 against the Dodgers.
Allie Reynolds, 1951. A July 12 no-hitter against the Indians followed by a September 28 no-no against the Red Sox.
Virgil Trucks, 1952. He no-hit the Senators on May 15 and the Yankees on August 25.
Nolan Ryan, 1973. He no-hit the Royals on May 15 and the Tigers on July 15.
Roy Halladay, 2010. He threw a perfect game against the Marlins on May 15, then threw a no-hitter in the playoffs against the Reds on October 6.
(*Thanks to Jb for pointing out that I inexplicably missed Vander Meer on the first edition of this.)
Friday
Finally, this was the date Johnny Podres threw a shutout in Game 7 of the 1955 World Series to give Brooklyn their only championship. It was a wonderful moment, and Podres was a very good pitcher, a guy with 148 wins, an ERA title, four All-Star selections, and four World Series rings as a player, followed by more than two decades as big league pitching coach for several teams.
Still, that moment is not one I expected to see memorialized in the Hall of Fame. At least, not in the way that it is.
I expected to see the 1955 World Series honored in any number of displays. A seat from Ebbets Field, or the pennant they flew afterward. Of course, Jackie Robinson’s famed steal of home in Game 1 that Yogi Berra argued about for the rest of his life.
All of those things are there in one form or another, as they should be. Had there been a statue of Robinson sliding into home, it wouldn’t have surprised me at all. And there is a statue commemorating the 1955 World Series, just not the one I expected. There’s this wonderful statue of Roy Campanella on the grounds behind the main building.
In case you can’t read it, the inscription on home plate says “The Catcher Roy Campanella,” and notes that it’s a bronze crafted in 1996 by the sculptor Stanley Bleifeld. It’s wonderful.
What you can’t see from this angle is the rest of the piece. See, Bleifeld was born in Brooklyn, and was a Dodgers fan. He crafted the piece for another diehard Dodger fan, Sheldon Fireman, who donated it to the Hall of Fame “in memory of all the hours he stood outside Ebbets Field hoping beyond hope to collect an autograph from anyone who ever played there.” That 1955 World Series victory, the only title the Dodgers won while playing in Brooklyn, meant a lot to Bleifeld and Fireman, more than it did for most people, as you can imagine.
And so, it wasn’t just Campanella who Bleifeld decided to sculpt. He decided the entire battery the Dodgers fielded for that memorable Game 7 needed to be on the grounds of the Hall of Fame. Exactly 60 feet 6 inches in front of Campanella is a statue of Johnny Podres in mid-pitch.
Not a bad landing spot for crafty lefty Johnny Podres, a guy who probably never imagined there would be a statue of himself at the Hall of Fame. But I guess it’s easier to be immortalized at your sports biggest shrine if a famous sculptor happens to be a fan.
This Week’s Editions
Monday: Educating Twitter: Tommy John’s Politics
Tuesday: Pete Rose Loved Being Booed
Wednesday: Decisions, Decisions: Al Dark’s Gaffe
Thursday: Late Bloomers: Bill Huchison
Johnny Vander Meer not on list of 2 no hitters in a season?
Thanks for noting Quisenberry’s good pick-off move. This is an undervalued skill in any pitcher rating but especially important for a reliever. Like bunting for position players, it seems like a technique a professional athlete could work to improve over the course of their career. I just watched another season of highly paid professional baseball players, many who are sub .220 hitters, fail time and again to get a bunt down to help their team.