Kevin Bass

Foreground, front center: The Basstache. Background: Kevin Bass.

Why we like him: I don't remember a whole lot about Kevin Bass, but I do remember his pristine and finely manicured mustache. That was some serious lip spinach. He wasn't much of a hitter, but I bet that cookie duster was a major intimidation factor for any pitcher in the league. It was almost like that upper lip plume was drawn onto his face by the baseball gods themselves. And it looked so good in contrast with those hideous '80s Astros uniforms.

Little-known facts about Kevin Bass's lip-tickler, a.k.a. the "Basstache."

• Kevin Bass was a career .270 hitter. The Basstache batted 1.004.
• Kevin Bass made the All Star team in 1986. The Basstache invented the All Star team.
• Kevin Bass never led the league in anything. The Basstache always led the league in everything.
• Kevin Bass was traded to the Giants. The Basstache was a giant.
• Kevin Bass swatted 118 home runs in 14 years. The Basstache would make you run home and hide for 14 years.

Ladies and gentlemen, Kevin Bass, ballplayer.

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.

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.