Roberto Kelly

Catching a UFO without even looking at it. Or dumbfoundedly playing catch with a rosin bag. I really don't know.

Why we like him: For the better part of my adult life, and everyone else's I know, the Yankees have always been a perennial powerhouse of a ballclub, contending for a World Series championship year after year.  Despite popular belief, they continuously have a good mix of home-grown talent (Jeter, Rivera, Posada, Bernie, etc.) coupled with marquee free agent signings that only they could afford (A-Rod, Mussina, Teixeira, etc.). However, when I was a kid, the Yankees were anything but a contender.

During the better part of the late 80s and early 90s, the Yankees were a struggling mess. After the Bronx Zoo era of the late 70s and early 80s, the Yankees were hampered mainly by just bad luck. Their marquee hitters, Dave Winfield and the home-grown Don Mattingly, possibly my favorite player ever, were both extremely injury prone and not-so-proud owners of bad backs. The prospect line still seemed, on the surface, to be somewhate productive, churning out semi-promising youngsters Kevin Maas (who will definitely be on this blog at some point), Deion Sanders, Hensley Meulens, and Pat Kelly. And of course there was also Roberto Kelly.

In all honesty, Kelly was probably the most promising outfield prospect the Yanks had in their system during that era until Bernie Williams showed up. He played four full, pretty productive seasons in the Bronx until being traded at the end of the 1992 season to the Reds for Paul O'Neill, another one of my favorite players ever. After he left the Big Apple, he bounced around all over the league with stops in Cincinnati, Atlanta, Montreal, Los Angeles, Minnesota, Seattle, and Texas before winding up right back where he started with the Yankees in 2000. After failing to win a solid roster spot during the season, he was granted free agency after the 2000 season. He was then picked up by Colorado, but he retired before ever playing another game.

Kelly's final statline: 14 seasons, 8 teams, a semi-surprising .290 average, 124 homers, 585 RBI, 235 steals, and 2 All Star appearances ('92 and '93). Supposedly a guy who was destined to be a part of the Yankees' championship puzzle, he never really blossomed into the player scouts or fans thought he was going to be, and he never earned the opportunity to contribute for the World Series-winning Yankees teams of the late 1990s we all remember so well. Unless you count him being traded for Paul O'Neill, then he totally helped.

Ladies and gentlemen, Roberto Kelly, Ballplayer.

Throwback Thursday: Roy Face

Elroy's face.

Why we like him: When you think about the game's greatest closers, you probably think about Rivera, Eckersley, Lee Smith, Wagner, Hoffman, Gossage, Fingers, and Sutter. The guys you don't think about are the ones who actually revolutionized the game, essentially invented role, and basically defined the job of the closer for future generations. Long before Eric Gagne was saving a shady 84 consecutive games and John Rocker was sprinting onto the field to Twisted Sister, the Pittsburgh Pirates' Elroy Leon Face was making a name for himself by finishing ballgames.

Face laid the groundwork for the closer role in the league in the late 50s.  After finding little success as a starter, he made the move to the bullpen and found other ways he could help his team. Through the development of a forkball, which he picked up from Yankee bullpen specialist Joe Page, Face would come on late in games and secure wins for the Pirates by shutting down opposing lineups for one to two innings. From 1958 to 1962, Face was easily the best in baseball at what he did, which was save ballgames. He made three straight All Star appearances from '59 to '61, and was even a legitimate factor in the MVP race in '59.

Roy Face played 16 seasons in the majors, 15 of which were spent in Pittsburgh. He saved 193 games during an era when the save was really an insignificant statistic. Despite a pretty ugly postseason ERA, he even became the first pitcher to save three games in a single World Series during the legendary Fall Classic of 1960 against the Yankees. 

When you think about it and look at the numbers, Roy Face is probably not worthy of a place in the Hall in Cooperstown, but when you consider the impact the man made on the game and closer's role, in particular, it might be worth it to give the guy his own wing. Let's put it this way. If you've ever gotten pumped up because your club is headed into the ninth inning with a lead, and you're excited about your closer coming in to shut it down and wrap up a save, thank Roy Face.

Ladies and gentlemen, Roy Face, Ballplayer.

Delino DeShields

Greatest. Cap. Ever.



Why we like him: Sometimes I remember players because of the way they played the game, statistics they compiled over their career, or even just because of the way they looked.  Then there are players you remember because of all of that as well as the fact that they were a piece of one of the most ludicrously stupid trades in baseball history. Meet Delino Lamont DeShields.

DeShields was a pretty good player by any standard, a pesky lefty slap hitter that always seemed to find his way on base and steal second, third, and shortstop's wallet.  In his first year in the league, 1990, DeShields batted .289 with 42 steals for a young Expos team that had a certain buzz about them. They were competitive within the division always seemed like a threat to sneak up on anyone in the National League.  DeShields was part of the Montreal's youthful foundation that centered around himself, Larry Walker, Rondell White, and Marquis Grissom, all of which had enough veteran leadership around them in guys like Tim Wallach, Tim Raines, and Andres Galarraga to make them legitimate contenders in the future.

At the end of the 1993 season, DeShields' stock had never been higher.  He was coming off a .295 season with 42 steals and looked like the prototypical, consistent leadoff hitter of the future.  He even finished 16th in MVP voting in 1992.  The Expos were loaded with young talent and looking to make a run for the division in 1994 (and I like to think they would have won the Series too, you know, if there was one).  They just needed a little more firepower in the pitching department to send them over the top.  The Montreal brass dangled DeShields on the trade market looking for any takers.  The Los Angeles Dodgers were willing to part ways with a young pitching prospect of their own named Pedro Martinez in return for the pesky DeShields. No, really. Straight up. Needless to say, the rest is history.

Pedro Martinez went on to win his first Cy Young Award in Montreal in 1997 on his way to becoming one of the best pitchers the game has ever seen.  DeShields played three seasons for the Dodgers and batted .241 before walking away to St. Louis as a free agent in 1997.  DeShields' final career stats include 13 big-league seasons, a .268 average, and 463 steals.  And an involvement in one of the single dumbest, head-scratching-est trades in baseball history.

Ladies and gentlemen, Delino DeShields, Ballplayer.

Milt Thompson

Nice stance.



Why we like him: Milt Thompson was passed around more times than a needle in the '88 Oakland clubhouse. Over the course of his 13-year career, Thompson played for 6 different teams, all of which were in the National League.  What's so perplexing, though, is that he always seemed like the type of productive player that was coveted around the league, yet he never stayed with the same club for more than four consecutive seasons.

Thompson was indeed a productive player who could play wherever his manager needed him to play in the outfield, and usually performed best when pinch hitting or part of a platoon, such as splitting time playing the corner outfield spots with Felix Jose and Bernard Gilkey in St. Louis in the early 90s.  He batted .274 for his career with just 47 home runs.  He even played in the World Series in 1993 with the Phillies, batting .294 with a home run and 6 RBI (5 of those RBI came in Game 4 alone).  Perhaps Thompson was best known during his career for his defensive play, showing off his range and snatching balls from over the fence pretty regularly during the pre-Web Gem era.

In 1997, Thompson was hired as the Tampa Bay Devil Rays' outfield and baserunning coordinator, which I'm not sure is somethign he's necessarily proud of.  After two years of hanging around the Devil Dogs, he moved to Philadelphia for assorted base coaching and position jobs with the Phillies.  He even finally won a World Series ring with the Phillies in 2008 as their hitting coach.  He's now the outfield and baserunning coordinator for the Houston Astros' farm system.

Milt Thompson might not have been the best at anything, but he was always fun to watch in the outfield and a guy pitchers never wanted to see at the plate in big spots. You'd think that some team somewhere would have kept Milt for the long haul, using him as an integral piece of the puzzle instead of trading him or letting him walk as a free agent.  But then again, that's sort of what made him who he was.  He could definitely play for my team any day.

Ladies and gentlemen, Milt Thompson, Ballplayer.

Pat Listach

The bat broke when it hit that golden chalice.

Why we like him: Iin 1992, Pat Listach (pronounced: liss-STASH) looked like a promising big-league talent.  He was just 24 years old and won the starting job at shortstop on a strong Brewers squad that finished second in the AL East in 1992 behind an excellent Blue Jays team.  That season Milwaukee's lineup featured the aging legends, Paul Molitor and Robin Yount, productive young guys beginning to find their niche in the league like Greg Vaughn and Dante Bichette, and steady veteran guys like Kevin Seitzer and B.J. Surhoff.  They even featured a sneaky-good pitching staff full of guys who all had career years at the same time.  If Toronto hadn't been so good that year, the Brewers probably would have been the World Series favorites.

Listach's '92 season wasn't necessarily the most productive rookie season ever (See: Pujols, Albert), but it definitely felt like this guy was going to be here for the long haul. He started the season on fire from the nine hole, and had worked his way into the Brewers' leadoff spot by May. He batted .290 in his first major-league season, and showed good speed with 54 steals in 149 games.  He had become such an asset to a very good team that people around the game were overlooking some pretty glaring weaknesses, like a propensity for striking out, even as a leadoff hitter (124 Ks in '92).  Nonetheless, Listach took home the 1992 Rookie of the Year trophy, narrowly beating out Kenny Lofton, and even finished 18th in MVP voting.

The following year, the league started to figure out how to pitch to Listach, as his batting average fell to a pedestrian .244, and he continued to strikeout at an alarming clip.  He did pick it up a little in 1994, batting .296 in just 16 games, but in 1995 Listach only managed a lame .219 average.  He was traded to the Yankees in a waiver trade in 1996, but never played a single game for the Bombers.  After being granted free agency at the end of '96, Listach signed on with the Astros where he batted .182 through 54 games in 1997 before being released on July 1.  He then bounced around and downward like a Plinko disk through a couple of minor league organizations, but never played another major-league game.

Pat Listach was a flash in the pan in its purest form, but he was just lucky enough to take home an award for it.  His final line: 6 seasons, .251 average, 5 homers, 338 Ks, and one trophy.  Since his retirement from playing ball, he's served as a pretty successful manager in the Cubs minor league system before working his way back to the majors as the Nationals' third base coach in 2009. If you're just dying to see Pat Listach right now, take a look in the Cubs' dugout.  He became their bench coach in 2010 and still coaches benches to this day.  If Donny Baseball looks like he could still hit .280 right now at 50, Listach looks like he could hit .130 and destroy a buffet at 43.

Ladies and gentlemen, Pat Listach, Ballplayer.

Razor Shines

Yes, really.

Why we like him: Get ready, because it's about to get ridiculous.  I know what you're thinking, and yes, that is his real name, and no, he was not a Harlem Globetrotter.  The legend of Anthony Razor Shines is pretty preposterous.  His listed nickname is actually Ray, but in all honesty, if you have an opportunity to call a man Razor Shines, you're going to.  He might seem like just another Expo of yesteryear wandering through baseball obscurity wishing he was anywhere but Montreal, but with a name like that, you're destined for great things.  You'd think.

Anyway, his career spanned only 4 seasons in the majors, all of which were with the Expos, and yielded some of the most pitiful stats ever to grace a Baseball Reference page.  With only 81 at-bats in 68 games spread over 4 seasons, he was a career .185 hitter with no home runs, 5 RBI, and one sweet extra-base hit (a double).  That's not even the best part.  He also pitched one "who-cares" inning in a blowout loss to the Phillies in '85, giving up just one hit and surrendering no runs.  That's right.  Razor Shines, proud owner of a .185 career average and 0.00 ERA.

Shines is actually somewhat a cult hero in minor league lore.  He definitely served his time, playing 16 minor league seasons in places like Indianapolis, Memphis, Buffalo, and he even played a little bit in Mexico.  Of course, no one can spend that much time in the minors and not figure out ways to help groom younger players and manage games. After his playing career came to an end in 1987, Shines began coaching and eventually managing minor league teams in Birmingham, Alabama, and Clearwater, Florida, and he is the proud owner of over 500 minor league wins as a manager.  He also served as a base coach for the White Sox in 2007 and also for the Mets in 2009 and 2010.

So just how awesome is Razor Shines?  Awesome enough to have an honorary Razor Shines Night while he was managing at a minor league stadium...of the opposing team.  He was just a classic ballplayer, a man grinding out season after season in the minors for a shot at living the major league dream, and he did live it, if only for a little while.  I'm glad the game got to experience Razor Shines, and it's stories like his that make this the greatest game in the world.

Ladies and gentlemen, Razor Shines, Ballplayer.

Felix Fermin

Hittin' and grinnin'.

Why we like him: Felix Fermin was just one of those guys. A pesky middle infielder who always managed to find a way to make it difficult for a defense to get him out.  His career spanned 10 seasons with stops in Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Seattle, and Chicago (NL), where he batted a lame but respectable .259 with 4 home runs. In addtion to being a usable hitter, Fermin also played pretty good defense at shortstop as well as second base, which made him a valuable late inning substitute.

Perhaps the most impressive thing about his career, statistically anyway, was the fact that he struck out 147 times and walked 166 in 2,767 at-bats. First of all, any time a guy can strike out fewer times than he walks, I'm impressed.  Look at a decent player from today, the Mets' Angel Pagan.  He's already struck out 260 times in his career in 1400 at-bats.  Fermin made you work.  However, what I like about stats like his is that when Felix "El Gato" Fermin strolled to the plate to hit, he was going to hit.  It's like he knew that you only get so many ABs in life, so you might as well hack away and put it in play.

I probably remember Fermin best for his 1994 strike-shortened season with the Mariners.  He was the everyday shortstop for an up-and-coming Mariners team that was starting to get it together.  He batted career-best .317 that season with the best slugging percentage of his career (.380).  Fermin provided a spark near the bottom of the Seattle lineup all season long, and just as everyone thought he was turning the corner and becoming a valuable asset to the M's, the strike happened.

The following year was the beginning of the end for Felix.  He batted .195 with just six extra-base hits.  He was released in April of 1996, but was picked up a month later by the Chicago Cubs who hoped he could regain his 1994 form.  But 1996 was even worse, as he batted .125 through 11 games and was released by the organization in August, never to play again.  Fermin has since become somewhat of a legend as a manager in the Dominican Winter League, winning five championships for the not-so-easily-pronounced Águilas Cibaeñas in eight seasons.

Ladies and gentlemen, Felix Fermin, Ballplayer.