Bo Jackson

The greatest athlete ever.

Why we like him: There has never been a better athlete to walk the earth than Bo Jackson. To me, there's not even an argument about it. He was one of the fastest, strongest, smartest, and charismatic people the world of sports has ever known. His baseball career spanned just eight seasons. Known primarily for his five seasons in Kansas City, Bo also spent two seasons in Chicago with the White Sox, and played 75 games in the 1994 seasons for the California Angels (Remember that?).

Bo finished his career with a .250 batting average, which is honestly a little low, even for the offensively starved 1980s, but his 107 home runs from 1987 to 1990 made him one of the most legitimate power hitting threats in the league. The 1989 season was probably his most impressive, batting .256 with 32 home runs and 105 RBI, and he finished tenth in the MVP race at the age of 26. And by the way, he never really reached his prime because of the hip injury he sustained in the 1991 NFL playoffs.

Like Dale Murphy, if you can't put Bo in the Hall of Fame, there's no point in having a hall. Even the tone people use when discussing Bo Jackson has a sense of reverence and respect you don't even hear when you talk about other athletes.

Here are a list of true facts about Bo Jackson, many of which can be seen on Youtube:

• Scouts frequently said Bo hitting a baseball made a sound they'd never heard before. Older scouts said the only other time they heard it make that sound was from the bat of Josh Gibson.
• Bo once caught a deep drive on the warning track, and instead of crashing into the wall, Bo ran on the wall...for three steps.
• Bo had a propensity for striking out and sometimes broke his bat over his knee or even his helmet as if it was a twig.
• Bo was clocked in the 40-yard dash at 4.12 seconds at the NFL combine.
• With Harold Reynolds, a pretty fast baserunner, on first base, Bo ran down a deep drive to the rightfield corner by Scott Bradley. Bo picked up the ball on the warning track, stood flat-footed and threw a strike in the air to Royals catcher Bob Boone who tagged out Reynolds sliding at the plate.
• Bo routinely hit balls deep into the second fountain at Kaufman Stadium which is listed at 447 feet from the plate.
• When Bo suffered his hip injury in the 1991 NFL playoffs, the Raiders' trainer said, "Bo says he felt his hip come out of the socket, so he popped it back in, but that's just impossible. No one's that strong."

No one except Bo Jackson.

Ladies and gentlemen, Bo Jackson, Ballplayer.

Throwback Thursday: Ken Johnson

The profile of an extremely unlucky man.

Why we like him: Another day, another Colt .45. Yesterday, after the Angels' Ervin Santana pitched a no-hitter after actually trailing in the first inning, I couldn't help but think about the only man in the history of the game who actually went on to get the loss in a no-hitter.  Ken Johnson, to this day, remains the only pitcher ever to lose a complete game, nine-inning no-hitter. On April 23, 1964, while playing for the beloved Houston Colt .45s, Johnson pitched nine innings against the Cincinnati Reds without surrendering a hit and ended up losing the game 1-0.

The lone run in the contest was scored in the top of the ninth inning by none other than a spry, young 23-year old future legend, Pete Rose. With one out in the inning, Rose reached second base on a throwing error by Ken Johnson himself after a comeback grounder to the mound. After a Chico Ruiz ground out moved Rose over to third, Johnson induced a ground ball from Vada Pinson, but another costly error charged to Hall-of-Famer-to-be Nellie Fox allowed Rose to score. The next batter, Frank Robinson popped out to left to end the inning. The Colt .45s failed to score in the bottom of the ninth, and Johnson's dubious date with destiny had arrived.

Johnson's final line for the day: 9IP, 0 H, 2 BB, 9 K, 1 R, 0 ER, Loss. Ouch.

Three years later, the Orioles' Steve Barber and Stu Miller managed to combine for a no-no and still lose 2-1 to the Detroit Tigers. In 1990 Andy Hawkins of the Yankees lost an eight-inning no-hitter at Chicago's Comiskey Park 4-0 after 3 errors in the eighth. However, no one has ever managed to be as good as Ken Johnson was that day and lose. As good as his stuff may have been, his luck was that much worse.

Ladies and gentlemen, Ken Johnson, Ballplayer.

Dale Murphy

A 1988 Donruss Dale Murphy, the first baseball card that I remember owning.

Why we like him: If you are an American boy who was born south of Kentucky and east of Louisiana between 1978 and 1983, there's a 99% chance you thought Dale Murphy was the single greatest human being in the history of the universe during your childhood. I know I certainly did. Murphy was the lone elite player for some pretty dreadful Braves teams during the 1980s. He was the winner of back-to-back MVP awards in 1982 and 1983 and really the only player in major league history who could make the "'80s blue" Braves uniforms look decent.

If Dale Murphy isn't a player worthy of the Hall of Fame, then there's really no point in having a hall of fame at all. During the eight-year stretch of his prime in 1980-1987, you'd be hard-pressed to find a more dangerous hitter anywhere in the league. He was a consistent presence in the home run leaders list year after year, leading the league in homers in 1984 and 1985. He even swatted 44 dingers in 1987. He was also a steady RBI man, leading the league in 1982 and 1983, and consistently batted just under .300. Despite beginning his career as a catcher, Murphy finished his career with five Gold Gloves for his play in the outfield, and when you make a list of the best all-around outfielders of his era, there's no way you could leave him out.

Murphy finished his 18-year career with a .265 average and 398 home runs and retired at the age of 37 back when 398 home runs was still impressive. Had he hung around to hit two more, he may have gotten a little more consideration from the Hall of Fame voters, but in my opinion, he's more than worthy. He was one of the best players in baseball who happened to play for a bad team in Atlanta during an era of offensive impotence that featured scores you'd usually only see in soccer.

Here's a story just to give you an idea of what Dale Murphy meant to kids back then: On the day my little sister was born, I went to the grocery store with my dad. I was six years old and just starting to realize how much I loved baseball. While we were checking out at the cash register, my dad saw me eyeing a pack of '88 Donruss baseball cards (the single ugliest card design ever, I think), and being in a good mood, he told me I could get a pack. I was pumped. Dale Murphy was even on the box holding the packs. Before we even got out the door, I excitedly ripped the pack open, eager to see who I got. The very first card on the top in the pack was Dale Murphy. I think I stared at the card the entire way home without having a clue as to what the stats on the back even meant. I was so stoked I wrapped a rubber band around the cards with the Murphy on top and took the whole pack to school with me the next day. My teacher asked me if I had any exciting news to tell the class from the day before, clearly wanting me to tell the class that my little sister was born. Instead, I held up the cards and said, "I got a Dale Murphy." That pretty much says it all.

Ladies and gentlemen, Dale Murphy, Ballplayer.

Throwback Thursday: Turk Farrell

He might have punched this baseball card if he didn't like what he saw.

Why we like him: Obviously when you're talking about the Houston Colt .45s, you're going way back into the deepest corners of the history of the game. The Colt .45s were renamed the Astros in 1965, and it had nothing to do with the fact that idiotic interest groups thought the Colt .45 moniker would somehow beget violence on the streets of Houston. Turk Farrell was a hulking, hard-throwing right-handed pitcher for the Colt .45s/Astros during their early days in the early-to-mid 1960s.

Despite a fairly ordinary, ho-hum career, Farrell was as interesting as player could be back in those days. His teammates said that "when he lost, he lost his temper, but when he won, he was the life of the party." Turk also broke a mirror in the clubhouse in Milwaukee after a poor outing simply because he said he looked in the mirror and didn't like what he saw, so he punched it. Okie dokie.

One of Farrell's most interesting stories involves a comeback line drive off the bat of none other than Hank Aaron. After throwing one of his trademark fastballs, the Hammer blasted it back up the middle on a line straight for Farrell's noggin. Turning to get out the way, Farrell took the drive solidly off the back of his head where the carom and the laws of physics directed the ball toward short right-center where a young and still short Joe Morgan drifted over from second base to set up camp to catch it in the air. The official scoring: the most painful assist on a fly ball in baseball history.

Farrell was killed in a car accident in 1977 at the age of 43, but we'll make sure his legend lives on. His final career stats: 14 seasons, 106-111, 3.45 ERA, 1177 strikeouts, 211 conventional assists, and 1 assist off his head on a fly ball. Thanks for the memories, Turk.

Ladies and gentlemen, Turk Farrell, Ballplayer.

Vince Coleman

Only high-speed photography could capture the elusive Coleman.

Why we like him: If Vince Coleman had been just a little better from the plate, he would have been Rickey Henderson. Built like an Olympic track athlete, Coleman was one of the fastest players ever to play the game. He played for 13 big-league seasons and amassed some pretty impressive stats for a guy who was never even remotely considered for the Hall of Fame.

"Vincent Van Go" owns several of Major League Baseball's most impressive baserunning records, and the way the game is played today, there is a good chance they could stand forever. Only Coleman and Henderson have three 100-steal seasons on record, but it was Coleman who stole more than 100 bases in three consecutive seasons. Not only that, but they just happened to be his first three seasons in the majors. Those three seasons are actually three of the six most productive base-thieving seasons in history.

Coleman never batted .300, which in my opinion, only emphasizes his effectiveness as a base-stealer. In arguably his best season in 1987, he batted .289 and stole 109 bases and finished 12th in MVP voting. The two-time All Star was the scariest baserunner on a team chock full of scary baserunners like Ozzie Smith and Willie McGee. It's just a shame his career didn't last a quarter of a century like Rickey Henderson's.

Vince Coleman stole 752 bases with 80% success in 13 seasons and playing more than 120 games in just six of them. Rickey Henderson stole 1406 with 81% success in 25 seasons. Coleman was a career .264 hitter. Henderson hit .279 and walked more than any other hitter in history except for Barry Bonds. If Vince Coleman had played for 25 full seasons, who knows what he could have accomplished.

Ladies and gentlemen, Vince Coleman, Ballplayer.

Mike Gallego

Getting ready to do what he does worst.

Why we like him: You have to love it when a player understands exactly what his job is and does it without complaint or a desire for attention. From 1988 to 1990, the Oakland Athletics were the poster boys for the increasingly popular (and highly dubious, in retrospect) playing style of gearing your entire offensive game around the home run. By employing mashers like Jose Canseco, Mark McGwire, Dave Henderson, and Dave Parker, the A's were piling up runs with an almost cocky pizazz, blasting homer after homer during their three year run of World Series appearances. What they forgot, however, were the little things.

Despite being a career .239 hitter with just 42 homers over the course of his 13-year career, Mike Gallego was a key piece to A's championship puzzle. On a team that was built solely around slugging percentage, the A's were obviously lacking defensively. While terrifying hitters to face at the plate, Canseco and McGwire were each essentially a klutz in the field. Someone had to pick up their slack and make plays. Gallego had a career fielding percentage of .977 and put up a sparkling .986 while patrolling second base.

The other aspect of Gallego's game that warrants some serious merit was his ability to handle the bat in situational opportunities. He could almost always lay down a good bunt, hit a grounder to right side of the infield, or just find a way to move a baserunner. He never led the league in anything except sacrifice hits in 1990 with 17. That's the tell-tale sign of a guy who wants his team to win. And they did, at least until they ran into the Reds in the World Series that year.

Mike Gallego's career was about as ultimately meaningless as they come. By they end of his career, he'd been shipped off to the Bronx and again to St. Louis after a short second stint with Oakland, and he was nothing more than a defensive substitute or platoon infielder. However, just because a guy doesn't put up numbers does not mean he isn't appreciated.

Ladies and gentlemen, Mike Gallego, Ballplayer.

Mark Whiten

Swing and a miss.

Why we like him: As you probably already know, I love nicknames for players, and especially players that are so mired in anonymity that their nickname is the only reason to think about them. Now, clearly "Hard Hittin'" Mark Whiten sounds more like a bantamweight fighter than a mediocre outfielder, but at least it made him memorable. If you're going brand yourself with that moniker, however, you should probably back it up.

After working his way through the Blue Jays system, Whiten found himself competing for a precious spot on a crowded outfield roster. The flash-in-the-pan emergence of Junior Felix in Toronto forced the Jays to make a change and midway through the 1991 season, they shipped Whiten to Cleveland in a package that sent Tom Candiotti the other way. Even with the change in scenery, Whiten finished in a tie for 6th in AL Rookie of the Year voting with Mike Timlin in 1991 after playing for both the Blue Jays and the Indians.

Whiten bounced around like ping pong ball for most of his 11-year career, landing in Philly, St. Louis, Atlanta, Boston, the Bronx, and Seattle in addition to Toronto and Cleveland. "Switch Hittin'" Whiten was traded frequently, usually in the middle of the season, simply because he wasn't good enough to build around, but he also wasn't bad enough to go unwanted. He was an average right fielder with a plus arm, but his bat just never really made him a prized possession of any of his clubs. For a guy called "Hard Hittin'," I'm pretty sure this was unacceptable. I mean, in his absolute best season, 1993 with the Cards, he hit 25 homers and drove in 99 runs. He never even hit 20 home runs in any season other than that one.

It's been said that a big reason for "Bloop Hittin'" Mark Whiten's numerous travels was simply his lack of focus. Whether during a single game or the course of an entire season, he could show you glimpses of some pretty impressive talent (and an absolute hose of an arm), and immediately thereafter slump badly enough to make his GM want to trade him away for a bottle of Pepto. He was just a rollercoaster ride year after year. But somebody was always ready to give him another shot.

Ladies and gentlemen, Mark Whiten, Ballplayer.