David Ortiz Countdown brings back memories of Yaz Watch -- and the Charlie's Angels Gaffe

Two who know the thrill of the chase.

My phone buzzed Wednesday night in the Staples parking lot with a text from my friend Scott reading only "498." The two photos below were attached, and I momentarily had a rush of excitement and jealousy that he was at Fenway Park while I waited in school supply lines. 

It was only the second inning. Perhaps, I texted back to Scott, David Ortiz could get two more homers in the game and reach 500 before the Red Sox went on a 9-game road trip the next day. He didn't, of course, and by game's end my thoughts returned as they often have in recent weeks to 1979 -- when Carl Yastrzemski was in pursuit of his 3000th hit. 

I was 12 that summer, and like most Boston-born kids had been cheering for Yaz all my life. I twirled my bat and tugged at my pants in Little League games, and made self-tossed leaping catches against the backyard wall of our house in imitation of Captain Carl's Green Monster heroics.

Like Ortiz, Yastrzemski had been in danger of missing his best chance to get his big hit at home back in '79.

Ancient Mariner (Topps)

He had a great first half-season, and slugged his 400th home run in July, but the march to hit No. 3000 was excruciatingly slow. Like this year's team, the Sox were essentially out of the pennant race that September, leaving fans not much else to cheer for but the "Ancient Mariner's" quest. 

Yaz hit .225 in August, the month he turned 40, and more often than not the "Yaz Watch" numbers that the Boston Globe noted on the front of its Sports page stayed unchanged from one day to the next.  He needed just 5 hits when the Red Sox started a six-game homestand on Sept. 7, and after getting 3 of them the first night against the Orioles his bat went stone silent.

Struggling in the stretch. (Getty Images)

The next three games against the Orioles he went 1-for-12, and when the hated Yankees came in for three more Yastrzemski was still one hit shy. He went 0-for-3 with a walk in the first contest, which I watched on the massive free-standing Zenith in our family's den -- flipping back-and-forth between Yaz's at-bats on Channel 38 and a Tuesday night ABC lineup of "Happy Days," "Angie," "Three's Company." and "Taxi" on Channel 5. 

Remember, this was before smartphones with their tweets and MLB.com Gameday updates made it easy to view a game in your hand while watching something else on TV. I guess I could have brought in a portable TV or radio and had both going at once, but hey, I was just 12. 

Wednesday's game pitted Yastrzemski against sore-armed New York pitcher Catfish Hunter. I tried my dual-channel tactics again, this time choosing NBC's "Eight is Enough" against the game. I caught Yaz walk in the first, fly deep in the third, and then ground out to end a 3-run Boston fourth.

Tough competition.

This knocked out Hunter, so Yastrzemski was facing struggling rookie Jim Beattie when he came up again in the sixth. By now my partner viewing was a "Charlie's Angels" movie on ABC (again, I was 12) but I still managed to see Beattie get Yaz to ground out -- leaving the captain with possibly one more late-game chance. I sighed and flipped back to Bosley's beauties.

Then, perhaps lost in my pre-teen fantasies, my timing fell off. While watching the ladies get to the bottom of their latest mystery, I saw the letters start scrolling across the bottom of the screen: "CARL YAS..." I immediately leaped up and flipped the dial, but I was too late -- there was my hero letting out a sigh of relief on first base after a seeing-eye single under Willie Randolph's glove. No. 3000 was in the books.

Finally.

I saw the replay, but was pissed at myself for weeks.

Fast forward to today. With Ortiz still 2 homers shy of 500, I am determined not to miss the big moment -- which will almost certainly come sometime during Boston's current nine-game trip. I'll have my phone and MLB.com with me at all times, and will run to a bigger screen if one is nearby. I can even watch the entire game all over again if I want (we didn't have a VCR back in '79 either).  

Still, it won't be quite the same without The Fonz and Jaclyn Smith.

Two more to go. (Boston Herald)

Why Hall of Fame voters got it wrong (again) on Curt Schilling

Schilling & Martinez both belong. (Boston Globe)

Pedro Martinez and Randy Johnson were worthy Hall of Fame selections today, each receiving more than 98 percent of the vote, but the man who sparkled alongside each of them on World Series champions got only 39.2 percent -- nowhere near the 75 percent needed for inclusion.

This marked the third year since he became eligible that Curt Schilling has finished well back of the pack, and it has me perplexed. By no means am I implying Schilling is in Johnson or Martinez's class as a pitcher; Johnson is in the pantheon of Tom Seaver and Lefty Grove among all-time greats, while Martinez is the Sandy Koufax of his generation based on his incredible stretch of mid-career domination. At his best, there was none better than Pedro -- maybe ever. 

Still, there are many reasons that the man who made bloody socks famous also deserves Cooperstown inclusion -- especially when one considers the third pitcher who received first-ballot entry this year with 82.5 percent of the vote -- John Smoltz -- is in many ways Schilling's statistical near-twin.

Here are three:

1. Schilling was a top-of-the-rotation starter on three different teams that reached the World Series -- and a three-time champion.

Schill matched the Big Unit in '01.

This is an impressive and very rare trifecta. Schilling went 16-7 in leading the 1993 Phillies to the cusp of a title before Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams imploded against the Blue Jays. In 2001 he was 22-6 and teamed with Diamondbacks "co-ace" Johnson to keep the mighty Yankees from a four-peat, and in 2004 he was 21-6 and clearly the best pitcher (sorry Pedro) on the Red Sox team that finally got it done.

Throw in his solid 15-7 mark in playing second fiddle to Josh Beckett on the '07 Red Sox title-winners, and it's clear this is a guy who not only knew how to win, but how to help teams win.

2. His postseason record is among the best ever -- and he did it over the long haul.

Schilling was bloody good in the postseason.

Schilling has few peers here. He made the playoffs five times, reached the World Series on four occasions, and overall made 19 postseason starts. Over 133.1 innings he was 11-2 with four complete games, two shutouts, a 2.23 ERA, and 0.96 WHIP. He went deep into games on almost every occasion, and shined bright on the biggest stage -- compiling a 2.06 ERA and 0.896 WHIP in 48 World Series innings. In 2001, he and Johnson shared Series MVP honors.

Among all-time postseason leaders, Schilling ranks third in winning percentage (.846), fifth in wins, eighth in both starts and strikeouts (120), and ninth in innings pitched. That's dominance.

3. His regular season stats compare very favorably to others in the Hall of Fame -- including today's first-year inductee Smoltz.

Better than Curt? Only in relief.

Check out Smoltz's stats as a starter. Sure, he's one of only two guys with 200 wins and 150 saves, but that's like saying Joe Torre is the only guy to hit 250 home runs and win multiple World Series as a manager. Smoltz was an All-Star caliber closer for three years, and that's hardly enough of a sample size to warrant Hall of Fame selection. Throw out his 154 saves, and Smoltz and Schilling have VERY similar numbers:

Smoltz:   211-155 (.579), 3.33 ERA, 3084 strikeouts, 1010 walks, 1.176 WHIP 
Postseason:  15-4, 2.67 ERA, 0.941 WHIP
8-time All-Star, 1 twenty-win season, 1 World Series title, 3 times Cy Young Top 5 (1 win)

Schilling:  216-146 (.597). 3.46 ERA, 3116 strikeouts, 711 walks, 1.137 WHIP
Postseason:  11-2, 2.23 ERA, 0.968 WHIP
6-time All-Star, 3 twenty-win seasons, 3 World Series title, 4 times Cy Young Top 5

I'm nor saying Smoltz is not a Hall of Famer, but why is he a first-ballot slam-dunk while Schilling is still on the way outside looking in? Are a couple Rolaids Relief Awards worth more to a candidate's credentials than a couple World Series rings? How about the fact one guy is perceived as a low-key gentleman and the other as a bit of a blowhard? Should that matter? 

Schill as a Phil -- quite the thrill.

Now let's look at another first-ballot guy with Schilling-like stats and multiple world championships -- Catfish Hunter. He won five rings, three with Oakland and two with New York, but his sore arm kept him under 150 innings for the Yankees in '77 and '78. He's clearly in Cooperstown for what he did from 1967-76, and that's fine, but what he did in that stretch and over his career was pretty comparable to Schilling, and he did it in an era dominated by pitching:

Hunter:  224-166 (.574), 3.26 ERA, 2012 strikeouts, 954 walks, 1.134 WHIP
Postseason:  9-6, 3.26 ERA, 1.126 WHIP
8-time All-Star, 5 twenty-win seasons, 5 World Series titles, 4 times Cy Young Top 5 (1 win) 

Again, Hunter was a lovable guy, but was he really that much better than Schilling? Remember, he was winning 20 games a year when that was far more commonplace; he finished in his league's Top 5 in wins five times, just once more than Schilling (both led their league twice). He also played on two of the most dominant teams of the last 40 years -- the 1971-75 Athletics and the 1976-78 Yankees.

The Cat -- better than Curt?

Taking into account that wins on their own often don't measure the full strength of a pitcher, let's take a look at wins above replacement (WAR) -- a measure of how much better or worse a team does with a player compared to the league average performer at the same position (with factors like ballparks also taken into account). The higher the WAR, the more valuable the pitcher. Here's the WAR breakdown for Schilling, Smoltz, and Hunter:

Schilling 80.7 (26th all-time)
Smoltz 69.5 
Hunter 41.4

Try the same thing with Hall of Fame members Don Drysdale and Jim Bunning, and you'll see Schilling compares very favorably to them both in wins, WAR, and postseason performance (Bunning never even pitched in the playoffs). Granted, Drysdale and Bunning are from a different era, but even taking that into account the numbers stack up quite evenly. 

Drysdale -- another in Schilling's class.

Not all sportswriters were Schilling fans, but they clearly respected him when it came to accolades. He never won a Cy Young Award like Smoltz or Hunter, but he finished second in the voting three times (twice to Johnson) and overall had far more Cy Young votes than Smoltz and only a few less than Hunter. In fact, Schilling had more Cy votes than all but 20 pitchers in history (and only one non-winner, Adam Wainwright, is in the Top 20).

That's what makes the current situation so confusing. Hall of Fame voters may not like Schilling's politics. They may not be fans of his business acumen (especially if they live in Rhode Island). They may even think he talks too much. But when it comes to their Hall of Fame votes, it seems they should be able to put that aside and judge the man solely by his numbers and success.

If they do, they will see it is clear that he belongs in Cooperstown.

One of these doesn't belong -- but he should.

Throwback Thursday: In 1976, the Bird was the Word

Two golden boys.

He flashed like a yellow-curled beacon across the baseball sky, a brief blip of innocence and fun before free agency and million-dollar contracts changed the game forever. 

Mark Fidrych. Just saying the name still makes me smile. The Pride of Northborough, Mass., debuted for the Tigers this week in 1976, and died this week in 2009. His sore-armed career in the majors lasted only 58 games, but he's still right up there with Dwight Evans, Luis Tiant, and Pedro Martinez in my pantheon of all-time favorite players.

Maybe it's because I was a rookie too in '76, also playing for the Tigers as a 9-year-old in the Newton Central Little League. I could barely throw the ball straight, but in my genuine woolen uniform -- I think the league phased them out after that spring -- I could stand in front of the mirror and pretend I was The Bird. 

Rookie on the rise.

Forty springs on, I can still recite his rookie stats from memory: 19-9, 2.34 ERA, 250.1 innings, 24 complete games in 29 starts. But numbers only begin to tell the story.

Fidrych, then a wide-eyed 21-year-old with parts of just two seasons in the minors, didn't start his first game for the Tigers until May 15 because manager Ralph Houk wanted to work the youngster in slowly. But The Bird -- named after Big Bird on Sesame Street, of course -- only knew one speed: full-tilt. 

Beginning with a two-hitter against Cleveland, he went 8-1 over his first two months, including back-to-back 11-inning complete games and a dismantling of the mighty Yankees on ABC's "Monday Night Baseball" that made him a national phenomenon. Teammates and fans loved watching him pitch, because he did so with precision (just 53 walks), passion, and a train to catch after the ninth. 

He was a man on a mission -- to win and have fun doing it.

Man at work.

The Bird appreciated every second of his time on the field. If a teammate made a great play, he ran over and shook his hand. If the mound needed some tending, he got down on his knees and did it himself. He claimed he didn't talk to the ball, but the fact we all thought he was when he jabbered to himself was good enough.

Red Sox manager Darrell Johnson let the lanky, 6-foot-3 rookie start for the American League in the All-Star Game over the likes of Catfish Hunter, Jim Palmer, and his own ace Luis Tiant, and it was the natural choice. When it came to pleasing fans, nobody did it better; Fidrych packed ballparks wherever he went, and Tigers attendance rose 39 percent from the previous season despite the team's lackluster 74-87 record. 

The Bird was the Word. Girls dug his locks, scooping them up after his haircuts. Rolling Stone put him on the cover. He even got to meet Frank Sinatra, which didn't mean much to him but delighted his mother.  

Bill Lee never got this gig.

Fidrych finished second in the AL Cy Young race to Palmer (he was robbed), and had a limitless future and a new three-year contract for $50,000 a year. Then, in the blink of a slip on the outfield grass while shagging flies in spring training, it was all but over. He injured his knee, requiring surgery, and then after coming back with a string of seven complete games in eight starts mid-way through 1977 suffered a dead arm from which he never recovered. 

Shoulder woes plagued him from this point on, robbing him of his control and his glory. By 1983, after umpteenth comebacks with the Tigers and a last-ditch effort for the Red Sox at Triple A Pawtucket, Fidrych called it quits at the ripe old age of 28. 

Last gas.

He went back to Northboro and became a commercial truck driver and farmer. He later had his own trucking business, mostly doing construction, and hung around the local diner. A working stiff with a wife, daughter, and no regrets he let folks know about.

Occasional "Where Are They Now?" articles appeared to catch us up on The Bird, but the first time Fidrych made real headlines after his retirement was on April 20, 2009, when word spread that he had died at 54 in a freak accident -- apparently crushed after his truck fell on him while he was working on it. 

I dug out my old 1976 Tigers team photo. There I was in the front row, with a Timex and Bill Lee glove on my wrist and a grin on my face.

The future limitless. 

Birds at rest.