G-Fafif

A FAFIF reader related a wonderful experience with his slugging idol from FanFest, which we share as a guest post here. We shook hands, I said I was a huge fan since childhood and thanked him for changing his mind and attending the last day of Shea (I decided not to ask him if my e-mail made him change his mind). He said it was a great day, he had a nice time and was glad he did. He signed a picture for me, posed for a couple of pictures, and I thanked him and began moving away. The MLB authenticator guy who was affixing little hologram stickers to all autographed items asked, �Hey, you want your jersey signed?� I hadn�t asked because they said only one item, I didn�t want to be a bother, and frankly I was a little overwhelmed. I said, �Really, you would?� and Dave said, �Sure! I have to sign a No. 26!� I whipped it off and said, �Wow, thanks! I wear this to almost every game and always get a positive reaction.� Dave seemed surprised and pleased by that, so I said, �Absolutely! Everyone loves you!� The MLB guy said �You know, you can�t wash it anymore,� and I said �That�s OK, I hardly ever wash it anyway�, and Dave laughed and said, �Ha, we can tell�. It�s got Shake Shack residue, ketchup marks and other food stains on it from a year or two worth of ballgames. We all had a good laugh and I walked away on Cloud 9�without any of my stuff other than the jersey in my hand. The guy had to call me back first for my bag, and then for my picture. I am generally a fairly cool customer, unfazed by anything. Except this. I was completely agog. When I came off the stage my wife laughed at me for babbling up there and forgetting all my stuff, and when I showed her the autograph she said, �Oh my God, your hands are shaking! What�s with you?!� For a couple of minutes I was a starstruck ten-year-old kid again.

1) 31 2) 8 3) 17 4) 24. Though Willie Mays' time with the Mets was brief, he was on the NL Championship team and his time with the New York Giants, a team that is part of the Mets heritage (it said so at the Fan Fest), should be recognized by this honor. There is some precedent for the sort of thing you recommend for Mays, most specifically Hank Aaron's 44 being retired by the Milwaukee Brewers. From the Brewers: "Hammerin' Hank" had his famous No. 44 retired after the conclusion of the 1976 season. Hank Aaron played baseball in Milwaukee from 1954 through 1965 with the Braves and in 1975 and '76 with the Brewers. He was elected to Baseball's Hall of Fame in 1982 after closing out his career with a record 755 home runs. He was the National League's MVP in 1957, the year the Braves won the World Series. Aaron also hit 40-or-more home runs in eight seasons, drove in 100-or-more runs 16 times and had a .305 lifetime batting average. By 1979, when coach Willie Mays was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame, he had spent 14 of 29 seasons representing New York's National League interests (15, counting the year he was wearing Uncle Sam's uniform), almost all of them as one of the undisputed legends of the game -- which he was, really, by 1952, no later than 1954. If upon his election to Cooperstown it was announced no Met will ever again wear 24, for essentially the same reason no Milwaukee player would wear 44 again, it would have been easily understood and widely applauded. Since he was still using his uniform, and the Mets had never retired a number while it was still on the back of someone wearing it, there was no prevailing reason to make a thing of it. Then came the Bally's job that took him officially out of baseball, the sale of the team to owners who had their own agenda, his eventual return to San Francisco's employ upon his reinstatement and, 30 years later -- with only 41 retired since 1979 -- it would be beyond the parameters of modern "if they didn't do it for this one, how could they do it for that one when he only did this as a Met?" sniping to retire 24 to honor a career and a man who touched multiple generations as National League New York's own. That said, hell yes. 1) 24 (listed first because they better get on this soon if it's not to be posthumous; and invite Kelvin Torve to the ceremonies) 2) 17-8-18-16 (the greatest team and era in franchise history was defined at its topline by all four of them; Kid going into the HOF complicates my instinct to make it just 17, and from there, I can't leave out the homegrown yang of Darryl and Doc as it applies to Kid's and Mex's acquired yin) 3) 31 (hopefully academic to ownership once he's in the Hall with a fun little NY on his cap) Save a space for 5.

They dolled him up but good for his photo shoot, with several posed on the 7 train. Sports Illustrated used a yellow cab. What is it about New York and transportation? If it wasn't all about the numbers, A-Reck would be getting these spreads. Right, Swannie?

Seaver 41 Harvey 98 MPH Wright .333

Likely less of a morgue tonight than it was when Davey zeroed in on Citi Field's deadness last September.

Can't remember the exact line, but Davey was interviewed by Guys! when the Nats were in town and he rather backhandedly said, regarding Citi Field, that he liked the shower in his office and went on to criticize the dimensions from both a hitting and pitching standpoint.

That 1977 game was Old Timers Day when Willie, Mickey, Joe D and the Duke emerged from the CF gate and inspired Terry Cashman to lop Joe D off and compose a .

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr wrote: So, wait, she's a native Long Islander in her thirties, and not an MLBS? Unless she's a weirdly-disinterested observer, allegiance-wise, that's just odd, isn't it? I fear she swings the other way.

Mr. Met puts up with the Phanatic for a good cause. [youtube:ps92tb45]USWzziRbpeo[/youtube:ps92tb45]

Jorge Castillo in the Star-Ledger gets to the bottom of this David Wright thing. Word of a clubhouse meeting trickled through the group of downtrodden players as they walked from the home dugout at Citi Field. The Mets had just lost, 5-2, to the lowly Cubs. They were 24-39, already 15 games under .500 on June 15. They had lost 10 of 12 games. The season, barely a third complete, was spiraling out of control. The players did not know who arranged the meeting. When they gathered in the middle of the clubhouse, David Wright stepped forward. There were no coaches in sight. "He had enough," reliever LaTroy Hawkins said. "He was sick of the (crappy) act." A composed Wright addressed his teammates for less than five minutes, warning of possible perils ahead. We�re better than our record, but if we keep playing like this the season is going to be a nightmare. Come to the ballpark prepared every day. Do whatever it takes. If not, the long season will only become longer. Wright asked Hawkins, a 19-year veteran, if he would take the floor. He was the only other player to speak. "It�s okay to hear from T.C.," Hawkins said, referring to manager Terry Collins. "It�s (all right) to hear from LaTroy. But to hear from D, it was powerful." No longer is Wright a young talent surrounded by more experienced, and expensive, players. At 30 years old, he is the franchise�s cornerstone investment; the image, voice and role model, on and off the field, enjoying the prime of his career in the country�s largest media market. The closed-door meeting that Saturday afternoon was the natural next step in his evolution from ancillary performer to team leader, a role solidified when he was officially named the fourth captain in franchise history on March 21. "It�s something I had never seen before from David," said pitcher Dillon Gee, Wright�s teammate for four seasons. "He�s taken on the leadership role well." The Mets are 17-11 since that players-only gathering. Of the 11 losses, only one was by more than two runs. "Meetings are stupid. They�re just dumb in general," the reserved Wright contended. "I think the only thing is sometimes it�s good to get together and let people air out because you�re around the same group of guys for so long. Sometimes it�s necessary to have an open forum where guys speak their mind about how they feel." MUCH IN DEMAND Under the assumption that he would be voted to start in the All-Star Game, Major League Baseball appointed Wright the ambassador for Tuesday's exhibition months in advance. He starred in the promotional campaign, participated in press conferences and became the game�s central figure. On Monday, when the sport converged on Citi Field for All-Star Game festivities, the duty amplified for the admittedly exhausted Wright, who started 90 of the Mets� 91 games that included 42 extra innings of play and a slew of weather interruptions. On Monday, he satisfied his media obligations, national and local, across platforms. At night, he captained the National League entry in the Home Run Derby. Making his second career appearance in the event, Wright hit just five home runs. On Tuesday, he will make his sixth All-Star Game start at third base for the Senior Circuit, an accomplishment made possible by his franchise�s voting campaign. "Obviously, you�re somewhat hesitant because you never know how your season�s going to go," Wright said of the additional responsibilities and spotlight. "You never know if you�re going to be an All-Star." The relentless effort to ensure fans vote Wright in as a starter exemplified his place in the organization. He is a homegrown talent, a supplemental first-round pick in 2001 that shot through the farm system to make his debut as a 21-year-old in July of 2004. In the nine years since, he has become a mainstay on the roster and in the record books. Wright is the franchise�s all-time leader in hits (1,531), doubles (343), runs batted in (862), total bases (2,573) and extra-base hits (584). He is second in games played (1,352), third in home runs (217), tied for third in slugging percentage (.506) and fifth in stolen bases (181). Defensively, he is a two-time Gold Glove winner. The accomplishments were not without hardship. In 2009, the Mets� first season at cavernous Citi Field, Wright hit a career-low 10 home runs. The next year, he batted a then-career-worst .283. Then in 2011, he labored through the most difficult of his 10 major-league seasons. Playing with a stress fracture in his back, Wright was hitting .226 on May 17 when he was placed on the disabled list for just the second time in his career. Days later, an article published in New Yorker magazine quoted Mets owner Fred Wilpon declaring Wright was "not a superstar." "I never had any doubts," Wright said of his return after the back injury. "There was never any question in my mind that I would be able to come back." He reverted to form last season and carried the Mets to a surprising start. This season, he leads all National League third baseman in batting average (.304), on-base percentage (.396), hits (105), doubles (21), triples (five), walks (49), total bases (175) and stolen bases (15). He compiled the numbers despite playing with a minor foot injury, Collins revealed yesterday. "David Wright is a player�s player," Collins said. "He�s the man�s man in our clubhouse. He personifies exactly what you want a major league player to be. Not just talent-wise, but his leadership." If he duplicates his average yearly stat line a few more times, he could make the Baseball Hall of Fame. If that happens, he would be the second player to have a Mets cap on his plaque in Cooperstown. But perhaps most impressively, Wright has remained loyal � some would argue to a surprising extent. Last December, days before his 30th birthday and as the final year of his contract loomed, he signed an eight-year extension worth $138 million. The deal nearly ensures he will spend the prime of his career playing for an organization that has advanced to the postseason just once in since reaching the 2000 World Series and is toiling through an obvious rebuilding phase. Wright did not make the decision blindly. Understanding his status and options, he met with Mets ownership and front office personnel over the offseason. He asked questions. He researched. He did not want to waste the remainder of his career without another foray into the postseason. He has experienced the playoffs just once (in 2006) and the spectacle was, he described, "addicting." The Wilpons and general manager Sandy Alderson presented a blueprint and stated their case. Matt Harvey, Zack Wheeler and a slew of other young arms were on the way. The team�s finances were improved and they would be players on the free-agent market. The Mets would surround Wright with substantial talent soon enough, as there had been earlier in his career. Wright bought in. He felt at home with the Mets. They are all he has known since he was 18 years old. But he was realistic. He did not expect the Mets to compete for a playoff berth this season. He just didn�t expect the team to start as miserably as it did, which led him to address the team that Saturday afternoon. "I knew that it was going to be difficult," Wright said. "It wasn�t snap your fingers and all of a sudden you become a World Series contender. It�s a process. Still, I was hoping for maybe little better results than what we got earlier in the season." FAMILIAR FOCUS John Buck played with one other official captain in his first nine major-league seasons before he joined the Mets. The player, Mike Sweeney of the Royals, shared the same agent he and Wright did. In July 2004, when they were teammates on the Royals, the two phoned Wright the day he was promoted to the big leagues to send their congratulations. Buck had made his debut a month earlier. The agent explained to Sweeney, a five-time All-Star, that he and Wright exuded similar traits, beginning with their tranquil demeanors. Like Sweeney, Wright harbored an intense focus and was a "true professional." It�s "to an annoying degree," said Buck, the Mets� starting catcher. "And Sweeney was the same way. I look for flaws with (Wright) because he�s so perfect just so I can point them out to him." Wright says his first nine major league seasons, which included two epochs of veteran talent, molded his leadership style. When he joined the Mets, Mike Piazza, John Franco and Al Leiter were around. He kept his mouth shut. When the second wave of Paul Lo Duca, Carlos Delgado, Tom Glavine and others arrived, he became more vocal. And with Jose Reyes, Carlos Beltran and R.A. Dickey discarded over the past two years, Wright is now the lone established star on the roster. So when the Mets acquired players over the offseason, Wright made it a point to call and welcome them to the team � even if they were just signed to minor-league contracts. "It�s been a process where you feel more and more comfortable," Wright said. "It�s not like a lot of other sports. If you�re a first-round quarterback, all of a sudden you�re anointed, and you need to step up. It�s not like that. In baseball, you develop into it and I think I�ve had a pretty good development." Wright keeps a little notebook with him. In it, he scribbles down what needs to improve and what is going well, both individually and as a team. He strives to update it once a week. Sometimes a thought comes to him after a game and he jots it down. Sometimes it happens when he�s in a hotel room watching a movie. He tries to avoid minutia and focuses on the grand plan. Every month or six weeks or so, he goes through the list with teammates. "I�ve been here long enough to see things that we�re weak at, things that we�re strong at," Wright said. "It�s good to have that type of reinforcement every once in a while." Wright avoids grandiose sermons. He has coordinated big dinners with teammates and picked up the tab, as he did on the team�s trip to Chicago last month. But he usually opts to approach teammates individually, as he did with Wheeler in the wee hours of June 18. The Mets had just lost to the Braves, 2-1, on a walk-off home run following a rain delay of 3 hours and 43 minutes. Wheeler, just 30 miles from his hometown, was set to make his highly anticipated debut the next night in the second leg of a doubleheader. Exhausted, Wright sat with the rookie pitcher for dinner at around 2 a.m. in the visitors clubhouse at Turner Field. He offered bits of advice to the 23-year-old prospect the Mets brass used as part of their sales pitch to Wright last December. Stay within yourself. You�re better than them. Just do what you�ve been doing. It�s good enough. "He�s definitely not what you would think coming into the big leagues, what a big shot would be, a guy that walks around without saying anything to anybody," said Wheeler, who tossed six scoreless innings in his debut. "He goes out of his way everyday."

He's transmitting his love of baseball to his daughter, the bastard! I�ve worked hard to keep my three-year-old daughter, Mirabelle, abreast of what I do for a living. It�s a world I�d be obsessing over anyway, and she�s curious, and my wife has an admirable but ultimately limited tolerance for discussions about things like replacement level, so I happily tell my daughter, still gloriously unjaded about what Daddy says, about whatever I�m working on that day. This leads to glorious moments, such as when she explained to me, shortly after I wrote an Alex Rodriguez story, �Daddy, I don�t want to play anymore. I�m going to retire.� And then there was the time she saw a boy in the supermarket wearing a lanyard he made, probably at summer camp, and asked me quizzically, �Daddy, what�s that boy credentialed for?� Much as I�d love to, I typically can�t bring my daughter to most of the games I cover. First of all, they�re past her bedtime. And second, as those in this business know, we don�t get free tickets, or discount tickets, or access to sold-out tickets. So I�ll be at the All-Star Game Tuesday night, but to bring my wife and daughter would cost hundreds of dollars. But when I was invited to participate in a panel discussion on Monday at the Major League Baseball Fanfest at the Javits Center in New York City, it was perfect. The timing, 10 AM, meant my daughter would be in peak energy form to hear her daddy speak about the Designated Hitter. (The word �abomination� came up, repeatedly.) And then I�d show her, as much as I possibly could, the world of baseball, specifically moments that meant something to me, to my father and I hoped, someday soon, to her as well. I am happy to report that Fanfest allowed us to fully embrace baseball in every conceivable way. Not to gush too forcefully, but we ran for hours despite what should have been overwhelming fatigue on all of our parts. There was a designated section, called Rookie League, for the youngest fans to hit off a tee, throw soft baseball-ish balls, or even race from one bag to another. We barely even got there, with so much else to do first. We didn�t utilize the map. We wandered. And it was glorious. One moment, we were taking a family picture to immortalize our experience on a baseball card. The next moment, I was showing Mirabelle, in an enormous map of the United States, where all the New York Mets farm teams play, and in exactly what town we experienced Chase the Bat Dog. She colored various Major League Baseball helmets in a supplied coloring book, freestyle. (Atlanta Braves, your �A� is now green.) We posed in a team picture with the New York Mets, careful to keep our distance from the volatile Jordany Valdespin. Seeing her bat off a tee, I was able to finally determine that Mirabelle is a natural left-handed hitter, like her father. �Just hold the bat like I told you, and swing level!� were my instructions. And she did, lacing a series of line drives off the wall nearly ten feet away at Lipton�s Tea Ball. After a lunch break, we raced over to the Mascot Home Run Derby. Mirabelle�s favorite is Mr. Met, conditioned from games at Citi Field since she was four months old. It is a popular tactic in this house for me to cheer her up by putting on a Mr. Met t-shirt. But Mr. Met had bowed out of the home run derby early (one spectator speculated, with some inherent logic, that the size of his head has a profoundly negative effect on his swing). Instead, we took pictures with Orbit, the newly-revived Astros mascot, and Friar, the dignified San Diego Padres� representative. We were now hours past traditional nap time. And while I finalized a decision about purchasing a Cleon Jones 1965 Topps rookie card (I did, for $5, and it will happily live next to my Ed Charles rookie card), Mirabelle wondered why we hadn�t seen Mr. Met yet. He was in obviously high demand; I later determined that he�d probably taken the 7 train to Citi Field for the afternoon press events there. My daughter started to cry, and as my wife and I tried to remind her of all the other mascots she had met, I looked up and saw my solution. Three representatives of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League were on hand, ready to take photos or in this case, dispense advice. �Excuse me?�, I said to Shirley Burkovich, once an infielder for the Rockford Peaches, now a kindly elderly woman looking on sympathetically at my family. �Would you mind telling my daughter if there�s any crying in baseball? �Sweetie, there�s not!�, she said, smiling at my daughter, who took a deep breath and calmed down. �There�s no crying in baseball!� We all took a photo together, three AAGPBL veterans and the three of us, while I happily explained to my daughter that Daddy is a writer, Mommy is a teacher, these women were baseball players and, if she wanted, that could be her job, too. Ten minutes later, we were in the car, Mirabelle was fast asleep and I was waxing poetic to my wife about that sweet left-handed swing.

Fred extols in the Times. Wilpon Extols Mets� Finances and Future By RICHARD SANDOMIR Fred Wilpon stood on a stage not far from Citi Field on Monday. It was the day before the All-Star Game, which the Mets are hosting for the first time in 49 years, but his audience, made up of military veterans, some of them in wheelchairs, was not there to talk about baseball, or when Wilpon�s team might actually become a contender again. Instead, they listened appreciatively at St. Albans Community Living Center, a sprawling veterans facility, as Wilpon helped to unveil improvements to a recreation area and green space that the Mets helped to finance with Major League Baseball. �We are very proud today to be with many veterans who served our nation and who sacrificed,� said Wilpon, who shared the stage with Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg and baseball�s commissioner, Bud Selig. It ws only outside, after the ceremony, that the 76-year-old Wilpon did something he infrequently does these days, which is to talk about his team, which has not had a winning record since Citi Field opened in 2009. In the last few seasons, Wilpon has held spring training news conferences in Port St. Lucie, Fla., in which he has consistently, and sometimes pugnaciously, maintained that he was not selling the team despite the financial stress caused by his connection to the fraud perpetrated by Bernard L. Madoff. And that�s been pretty much it, except for a 2011 interview with The New Yorker in which he made some ill-advised, unflattering remarks about several of his top players. On Monday, standing under a tree in the sweltering 90-degree weather, he did not offer up a lot of details about the Mets, but, not surprisingly, what he did say was positive. �I think Sterling�s position is excellent,� Wilpon said in reference to his family-run company Sterling Equities. �The Mets� business is excellent.� Of Manager Terry Collins, who has had the Mets playing winning baseball of late despite a work-in-progress roster, Wilpon said, �We all love Terry, who has done a very good job with what we have.� Of General Manager Sandy Alderson, who is now in his third season of rebuilding, Wilpon said, �We haven�t turned him down on anything.� Then again, since Alderson took over, the Mets have been cutting payroll, as the franchise wrestles with its financial obligations and seeks to get out from under some onerous player contracts. Asked if the team payroll, which is now about $90 million, will soon enough return to the $140 million level it stood at several years ago, Wilpon said: �I asked Sandy about that. He said he couldn�t invest that much money.� Wilpon did say that Sterling�s real estate operation, the core of his business empire, was going well. He said it had sold only a few of its properties, even though the team, in the aftermath of the Madoff fraud, needed infusions of money from new, limited partners as well as short-term loans from Major League Baseball and Bank of America. �We don�t need to sell,� Wilpon said, adding that the Mets had not refinanced their bank debt of $300 million to $400 million, due next year.

I'm noticing the the plastic thingie that attaches to the price tag is still on Erin's cap. Would not be surprised if News 12 bought the get up at Modell's with the idea of returning it when she's done with it.

metirish wrote: G-Fafif wrote: Our favorite local reporter, News 12 Long Island's Erin Colton, on assignment at Citi Field, supporting my contention that all journalists should wear their Harv on their sleeves. (A little investigative reporting indicates Erin is not really an MLBS, but if the jersey fits, there should be few snits.) damn, betting she has a nicer ass than Harvey....... Never bet against Harvey or any part of him.

Our favorite local reporter, News 12 Long Island's Erin Colton, on assignment at Citi Field, supporting my contention that all journalists should wear their Harv on their sleeves. (A little investigative reporting indicates Erin is not really an MLBS, but if the jersey fits, there should be few snits.)

Sticking with my Ike-boot of 2012, even though, as I said at the time, my Ike affinity outpaces anything I feel for Duda. Duda won't disappoint us because what was anybody really expecting from him? It feels as if Ike will never live up to his early promise and we're going to keep waiting for something to turn around for him. Let him come back in four years when we're on the verge of the World Series as Mazz did and Ike can come off the bench and wallop a pinch-homer for the club that signed him way back when. It's forgotten in the mists of Mazz nostalgia that Lee had a horrible 1981 and was probably (though one couldn't say definitively) never going to live up to his 1979-80 good self. A change (and time) did him good and makes him sparkle in our rearview mirror. So that's my template for Ike redemption. I loved Ike and Tejada in 2010. I'm ready to move on from them in 2013. I learn again how results-driven fandom can make a fella.

Last box of the first half. Gee 3.5 Young 1.5 Buck 1.5 Parnell 1.0 Byrd 1.0 Murphy 0.5 Hawkins 0.5 Nieuwenhuis 0.5

Great call on getting this done. Period.

Torres 3.5 Young 2.0 Byrd 1.5 Parnell 1.0

Hefner 3.5 Wright 1.5 Edgin 1.0 Young 0.5 Aardsma 0.5 Murphy 0.5 Lagares 0.5 Rice 0.5 Germen 0.5

WRIGHT'S SLIGHTS Starling Marte, lf Jose Tabata, rf Andrew McCutchen, cf Pedro Alvarez, 3b Russell Martin, c Garrett Jones, 1b Jordy Mercer, 2b Clint Barmes, ss Charlie Morton, rhp

Darryl Strawberry, playin' for the Lord, but not into baseball anymore. The four-bedroom, two-story modest house sits on a corner in this planned bedroom community, and when this 6-6 muscular-toned man welcomes you inside his home, there is no evidence Darryl Strawberry the player ever existed. There are no pictures of Strawberry in a baseball uniform. No trophies. No plaques. None of his four World Series rings. Nothing from his eight All-Star Games. None of his 335 home run balls. "I got rid of it all. I was never attached to none of that stuff," says Strawberry, 51, wearing a North Carolina jersey with Michael Jordan's No. 23. "I don't want it. It's not part of my life anymore." Darryl Strawberry, the former outfield great, is no longer. Darryl Strawberry, the ordained minister in this town 30 miles west of St. Louis, is very much alive. "I'm over 'Strawberry,' " he tells USA TODAY Sports. "I'm over Mets. I'm over Yankees. I don't want to exist as Darryl Strawberry, the baseball player. "People don't understand that's no longer you. I'm not a baseball player, anymore. "That person is dead." Well, not that dead... "I never wanted to exist as Darryl Strawberry, the baseball player," he says. "I wanted to let go that identity. It's not who I am. "I love that I was a great player, and won championships, and did all these great things, but I was always more driven. I knew there had to be more than just putting on a uniform and hitting grand slams and making millions of dollars. "I always believed there was a greater purpose to life." Strawberry, who remains proud of his baseball career, realizes there could be awkward moments this weekend when he travels to New York with 13-year-old daughter Jewel to the All-Star festivities and game at the Mets' Citi Field. There will be plenty of autograph and photo requests, and fans wanting to talk about the Mets' glory days when they won the 1986 World Series. There will be corporate parties, some that are mandatory, as part of his obligation with the Mets. But this is a man uncomfortable re-living the past, knowing he can change the future. "I used to be a big shot, let's put it that way," Strawberry says. "But I want nothing to do with baseball now. I have no desire to be working in baseball. No desire at all."

Bang-up profile by Steve Wulf of the late Johnny Callison, star among stars at Shea Stadium's only All-Star Game. This historical nugget is a beaut: Callison isn't in the Hall of Fame, but the respect for him is there in Cooperstown. In the World Series display is the Spalding glove that Mets outfielder Tommie Agee used to make his legendary catches in the 1969 World Series. It's a Johnny Callison model.

Any white player who does anything that requires physical exertion that exceeds his perceived talent level is a "blue collar" player. Nonwhite players presumably field their positions by cc'ing several senior vps and slipping out for a three-martini lunch.

Jays: Hentgen ('96), Clemens ('97, '98).