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Wheeler 3.5 Lagares 2.5 Buck 1.5 Byrd 1.0 Hawkins 0.5 Parnell 0.5 Wright 0.5

Fish gotta swim... Yelich LF Hechavarria SS Stanton RF Morrison 1B Lucas 3B Solano 2B Marisnick CF Mathis C Eovaldi P

Readers are getting good, I'm going soft on hard quizzes. We have our winners. Play for fun if not profit.

Another 1986 quiz and another great prize here.

From above article: Five notable facts about George Scott 1. Scott was known for his power (271 home runs), his fielding (8 Gold Gloves), his weight issues (he wore rubberized suits on his second go-round with the Sox) and his nicknames. His own was "Boomer," a name that began, he said, after his teammate Joe Foy said the ball made a boom off his bat. Home runs were "taters," an acknowledgment of his love of sweet potatoes, and he named his glove "Black Beauty." He also wore a batting helmet in the field, like Dick Allen and later John Olerud. 2. Scott played third base in the minors, but as a rookie in 1966 was moved to first base by manager Billy Herman, with another rookie, Foy, playing third. 3. As a rookie, Scott hit a home run estimated at 500 feet into the third deck of Yankee Stadium on April 26, 1966. It came off Yankee Hall of Famer Whitey Ford. 4. While Carl Yastrzemski is forever remembered for his MVP exploits during the stretch drive of the 1967 Impossible Dream pennant winners, Scott hit .344 over the seasons final eight games and hit a tie-breaking home run in the penultimate game of the season, a 6-4 win over the Minnesota Twins. 5. Scott played twice for the Red Sox, from 1966-71, then again from 1977-79. He was part of a nine-player deal with the Brewers the first time, then was swapped back for Cecil Cooper. He also played for the Royals and Yankees before ending his big-league career.

Scott not a happy man in retirement, writes Gordon Edes on ESPNBoston.com. Williams made his reputation as a taskmaster, but Scott felt that Williams frequently berated him publicly more than his teammates. Williams never showed him the same sensitivity, he said, that Eddie ("Pops") Popowski displayed when he managed Scott in the minors, and later as a Red Sox coach. Scott was keenly aware that he was one of the first African-Americans the Red Sox had promoted as an everyday position player. In 1961, under heavy public pressure for being the last major league team to integrate, the Sox had hired a former Negro League star, Ed Rogers, to scout the deep South. Rogers, who had discovered a young Henry Aaron, first saw Scott on a rock-filled field in Mississippi, picking grounders with ease. Rogers also showed the power the Red Sox would see first-hand when Scott hit a 500-foot home run in Yankee Stadium in 1966, and throughout a career in which he hit 271 home runs for the Sox and Milwaukee Brewers. But while Rogers may have discovered him, it was his white counterpart, Milt Bolling, who signed him. Back then, Anderson said, African-American scouts could not negotiate financial terms with players. That was a job left to white scouts. As fate would have it, Scott was inducted into the Red Sox Hall of Fame in 2006, in the same class as Dick Williams. The manager came up to Scott and thanked him, Anderson said, for letting Williams off the hook with his remarks at the dinner that night. "I was standing right next to him when he came up to George," Anderson said. But even that evening did not bring about a reconciliation for Scott. He complained afterward to Anderson that no one came to his table to congratulate him. By his reckoning, none of the other former players in attendance, and no one from Red Sox management. "I really don't remember that evening very well," Sox CEO Larry Lucchino wrote in an e-mail Monday night. "I do know I met a lot of people that night, and I'm sorry if I missed George. "I know that we welcomed him here subsequently, as late as 2010 and 2011, and we were hoping he'd be here last year for our 100th anniversary celebration." By then, there was probably little the Sox could have done to ease the pain Scott felt for his inability to land a job in a major league organization after his 12-year playing career ended. He managed in the Mexican League, and kicked around a few independent leagues, including a stint with the Massachusetts Mad Dogs in Lynn, but it never went beyond that. "I think he spent a lot of time waiting for that phone call that never came," said Anderson, who first met Scott in 1996.

Went to check on my various 1975 guesses, all of whom were in the Top 10 but none of whom was the answer (who struck me as obvious once I saw it). As these things go on BB-Ref, I found myself lured into learning something that has nothing to do with Fman's original inquiry: In 1973, The Sporting News named Ron Bryant its National League Pitcher of the Year presumably solely on the strength of Bryant collecting 24 wins versus Tom Seaver's 19, never mind that Seaver was all-everything in the N.L. that year across every existing statistic (never mind advanced statistics they didn't know from -- and never mind the pennant race pressure under which Seaver pitched) except for wins, or that Bryant was relentlessly ordinary, except for the 24 wins (he did enjoy a great start, but steadily fell toward earth from mid-June on. I remember it was a big deal that a mere 19-game winner trumped the league's only 20-game winner for the Cy Young. Thirty-eight years later, I can't believe "the bible of baseball" fell so hard for Bryant when it had Seaver to award. 1975 was the year I became a habitual reader of The Sporting News and remained one for the next 16 or so years. If I had this information about its 1973 selection, I probably would've boycotted the publication.

Ken Harrelson is flattered, if a bit condescendingly, in Times profile. Between this and the recent MLBN special, I'd be predisposed to relish his authenticity if his announcing didn't suck so incredibly badly. For Baseball Old-Timer, Numbers Aren�t the Story By BEN STRAUSS CHICAGO � Ken Harrelson was sitting in the television booth at U.S. Cellular Field last week before the Chicago White Sox hosted the Kansas City Royals when he broke into the story of how he would like to die. Harrelson, who goes by the nickname the Hawk, said he would be calling a White Sox game against the Yankees and Chicago first baseman Paul Konerko would step to the plate against C. C. Sabathia. �Here�s the pitch,� Harrelson, 71, said, his voice rising. �That ball hit deep, way back. Curtis Granderson looks up, you can put it on the board � � Before he finished his signature call, Harrelson slumped in his chair and dropped his head, feigning his perfect ending. �I want to die in the booth,� he said. �Just like that.� Harrelson, in his 38th year of broadcasting and 28th with the White Sox, is many things, perhaps none more than a showman. His nickname is derived from his prominent nose, and it comes with a healthy dose of flamboyance dating to his days of long hair and Nehru jackets when he played for the Boston Red Sox in the 1960s. Today, in his 50th year in baseball, his look is more befitting of a grandfather, but he is no less a character. His broadcasting style has been alternately called nauseating and nostalgic � and rarely anything in between. From the booth, where he works with the color man Steve Stone, he tells stories in a syrupy southern style about old friends and teammates like Mickey Mantle and Carl Yastrzemski; a walking, talking testament to baseball�s golden age. In between, he shamelessly roots for the White Sox and routinely takes on umpires. And these days, in an approach that could alternately be described as endearing or absurd, he has decided to take on the entire, and increasingly entrenched, world of statistical analysis. During a broadcast a couple of months ago, Harrelson went so far as to contend that those analytics � often referred to as sabermetrics � had cost too many good baseball people their jobs because they were unable to adjust to baseball�s new way of making judgments. That, in turn, led the MLB Network host Brian Kenny to devote a segment of his own show to chastising Harrelson, seeing his attack on sabermetrics as a predictable, and ridiculous, outcry by an old-timer stuck in a bygone era. And then Harrelson joined Kenny on the MLB Network for a debate during which Harrelson declared that the only statistic he cared about was something called �T.W.T.W.� That�s right, not O.P.S. (on-base and slugging percentages combined) or WHIP (walks and hits per inning) or WAR (wins above replacement, as in the number of wins a player creates versus an average replacement player, and a tough one for a lot of people, not just Harrelson, to get a handle on) or anything else from the new category of measurements. Just T.W.T.W., or in long hand, the will to win. A category that, of course, cannot be in any way shape or form be determined by looking at numbers. Kenny said that when Harrlelson unveiled his T.W.T.W. yardstick he was �completely incredulous.� Harrelson maintains that he does, in fact, like numbers and that sabermetrics does have a valued place in baseball, but that he would prefer it be a role much more limited that it is now and that too much deference is being paid in general to numbers crunching. He called its rise over the last decade �the biggest joke I�ve ever seen.� �Look down there at a guy like Gordon Beckham,� he said, peering down at the White Sox� second baseman. �If you got someone who gets a chance to take him out on a double play � like me � I�m not going to take him out, I�m going to take him out into left field. �So if the shortstop bobbles the ball, and I have a chance to get him, he knows that. Gordon will get busted and he�ll take the hit. There�s no number to define that in a player.� The role that advanced metrics has in an announcer�s booth is, of course, different from the one it has in the office of a general manager, who needs to be conversant with every measurement there is these days, even if he doesn�t believe in every one of them. For instance, few if any broadcasters go into detail about a pitcher�s F.I.P. (an earned run average calculation independent of defense). But Harrelson stands out for his on-air disdain for the whole numerical movement. To him, �Moneyball,� the best-selling book (and movie) about how Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland Athletics, used outside-the-box statistical analysis to hunt down player bargains is as much fiction as fact. It should be noted that Joe Morgan, a far more prominent announcer than Harrelson when he did commentary for ESPN�s Sunday night baseball broadcasts, was also a critic of the sabermetrics movement and received flak for his stance. Harrelson, in a local market rather than on a national stage, and with his image as a character firmly established, can probably coast along with his anti-statistics stance easier than Morgan could. �I can get away with things most announcers can�t,� he acknowledged. And that, said Bob Costas, a veteran sports voice who is most identified with his work in baseball, is not necessarily a bad thing. �If I�m listening to the White Sox play the Indians, I�m listening for Hawk to tell a great story about Charlie Finley,� said Costas, who narrated an MLB Network documentary about Harrelson. �Or the time he was sitting with Mickey Mantle at an L.A. hotel and Marlon Brando walks in. �If a guy doesn�t know what WAR is but he�s got good baseball war stories, I�ll take the trade-off.� Still, said Jonah Keri, the author of �The Extra 2%,� a book about how the Tampa Bay Rays have utilized Wall Street strategies in remaining competitive with a restricted payroll, �you can love the aesthetic of the game, but if you say sabermetrics are useless and they ruin baseball, then you�re doing a disservice to your viewers.� Not that Harrelson is about to change anything he does. The Wall Street Journal once named him the biggest homer of any baseball television broadcaster, but he was a finalist in 2007 for the Ford Frick Award, which is presented during the Hall of Fame weekend. �He�s not Vin Scully or Ernie Harwell,� said Costas, citing two broadcast icons. �But everything he does, it�s 100 percent authentically him.� Indeed, Harrelson�s distinct calls have long been Internet catnip. His catchphrases are so predictable his regular viewers often know what he will say before he says it: �He gone,� when an opposing player strikes out; �Rack �em up,� for a double play; �Stretch!� for any deep fly ball hit by the White Sox. With Chicago mired in last place in the American League Central, he has reached new heights this year. After a grand slam by Kyle Seager of the Seattle Mariners in June tied a game in extra innings, Harrelson�s call began, �That ball hit deep into right-center field,� followed by nearly 40 seconds of silence. That same week, he sounded physically ill when a potential winning home run by Adam Dunn was caught at the wall to end a game against the A�s. �Dadgummit!� Harrelson cried, as the ball reached the warning track, but no farther. To Harrelson, the reason is simple. �I wanted to win as a player and now I want to win as an announcer,� he said. Or to put it another way, T.W.T.W. Harrelson, who hit 131 career home runs in nine major league seasons and later had a brief and inglorious stint as the general manager of the White Sox in the 1980s, wore a ring on each hand in the broadcast booth last week. One was a 1967 American League championship ring, courtesy of the Red Sox, the other a White Sox 2005 World Series ring, a triumph that ended an 88-year championship drought for the franchise, an accomplishment that Harrelson gleefully helped narrate. Harrelson has long endured in a sport that has evolved around him, a feat that cannot really be measured by numbers but, in its own way, earns the respect of many involved in the game, including those who do swear by statistics. In fact, when searching for the best way to describe Harrelson, Kenny, his debating partner, settled on a quotation by Bill James, widely known as the father of sabermetrics. �James once said that Earl Weaver had the gift to look at a player and see what he was and what he wasn�t,� Kenny said. �The way to look at Hawk is to enjoy him for what he is, and not worry about what he isn�t.�

Mets didn't sink Monday. Will wonders ever cease? Hopefully not Tuesday night, as Zack Wheeler goes up against Nick Eovaldi -- or, more accurately, each pitcher goes up against the other pitcher's teammates.

Byrd 2.0 Davis 1.5 Murphy 1.5 Aardsma 1.0 Edgin 1.0 Hawkins 1.0 Parnell 0.5 Young 0.5 Wright 0.5 Hefner 0.5

I miss Jamie Moyer, my last major league elder.

Frank Castillo, Cubs pitching mainstay in the '90s, drowned. He was 44.

1979 MFYs also marred the legacies of Lenny Randle (20 games) and Roy Staiger (4 games). Ray Burris and Dick Tidrow at least sought to cleanse themselves sooner and later, respectively.

Happy 20th anniversary + 1 day to the 1 win of Anthony Young's 1993. [youtube:2twdxidt]L-AteiOx3tc[/youtube:2twdxidt]

George "Boomer" Scott, Red Sox and Brewer slugger, 69.

Hello Marlins, our old friends. Mets are 1-5 at Monstrosity Park this season. Let's get it on! Young 7, Murph 4, Wright 5, Byrd 9, Davis 3, Lagares 8, Recker 2, Quintanilla 6, Hefner 1 vs Hechavarria 6, Yelich 7, Stanton 9, Morrison 3, Lucas 5, Solano 4, Marisnick 8, Mathis 2, Turner 1

A box if one is needed. Byrd 1.0 Lagares 0.5

Yeah, Saturday was more like it. Only residual letdown from Friday.

Wright 1.0 Byrd 0.5 Lagares 0.5 Young 0.5 Atchison 0.5

�I just got caught up in his great play. He fed it to me and I had all day, and I just got caught up in his play and I threw it in the crapper. It cost us the ballgame." --Daniel Murphy, on what happened after Justin Turner made the most stylish grab and toss he'll ever make as a shortstop, July 26, 2013

Young LF Murphy 2B Wright 3B Byrd RF Davis 1B Buck C Lagares CF Quintanilla SS Gee P

Harvey 5.0 Satin 1.0 Buck 1.0 Turner 1.0

The Mets haven't let me down from an actual perch of expectations in a while. Nice going!

Span CF Rendon 2B Zimmerman 3B LaRoche 1B Werth RF Desmond SS Lombardozzi LF Ramos C Ohlendorf P

Juan Lagares - CF Daniel Murphy - 2B David Wright - 3B Marlon Byrd - RF Josh Satin - 1B Justin Turner - SS John Buck - C Andrew Brown - LF Matt Harvey - RHP