4192: Pete Rose Makes His Case (Again)

Wow, readers: as promised I viewed the new documentary 4192 yesterday. It details the career of one Peter Edward Rose, a guy I have had a hard time loving--but even a harder time hating. Pete doesn't make it easy to feel either way about him, at least for the die-hard Reds fans, and this doc (if anyone sees it) makes it even more difficult to keep the long-held keep-the-bum-out public opinion going.

Look, I know there's been a lot of Pete Rose publicity stunts aimed at reinstating him into the good graces of baseball in the last decade or so, and I know he's sounding more and more pathetic and desperate (and guilty) with each one. But here's the thing: the guy was f-ing amazing. He was the real deal, which, in this age of 'roided up super-villain-looking cheaters, seems more rare, more genuine and a breath of fresh air. Pete was (and still is, by the looks of him in the film) a total troll: not by any means tall or muscled or agile or graceful--not an athlete at all, by most definitions. The fact that he was able to succeed like he did was no accident, stroke of luck or by-product of dirty-dealings: it was sheer grit, heart and H-U-S-T-L-E. That little troll was scrappy, he could hit from either side of the plate and would play any position he was asked to play with no complaints. Would any of that fly today with our current crowd of jacked-up prima donnas? I doubt Jeter would be so accommodating.

The film just lays it all out there for you: the numbers have always spoken very loudly about his (mind-boggling) accomplishments, but there were also some of the most accomplished and respected faces in baseball extolling Pete's virtues. Marty Brenneman, Mike Schmidt, and (Mercy Missile favorite) Tony Perez: all saying what a stand-up guy and astounding player Pete is/was. I dare you: go see this film, listen to the adorable Tony Perez talk about his BFF and try and tell me you still think Pete should be barred from Cooperstown. If you can do this than you have a heart of cold hard steel.

*Please note* I would be remiss if I did not warn you: about halfway in Pete does a cringe-worthy reenactment of that awful Aqua Velva commercial. Ye be warned!

Sparky Anderson, 1934-2010

A few days ago I learned about the death of Sparky Anderson--the beloved manager of the Cincinnati Reds during the empire years of the Big Red Machine (1970-76). Sparky was a guy who spent 40 years in baseball: entering the minors in 1953 and managing his last game with the Tigers in 1995.

I already knew the highlights of his career (the back-to-back World Series titles in '75 & '76), and I even knew the fun, fallen-out-of-common-knowledge puzzlers (like, that Sparky's nickname as manager was "Captain Hook." Only in baseball does a guy already known as "Sparky" get a nickname). What I didn't really know was anything about his career before becoming a manager, when he was just George Lee Anderson: minor league talent. It's kind of tragic, really--like that part in Field of Dreams when Burt Lancaster is telling Kevin Costner about his one half of an inning that he got to play right field in the majors, essentially an uneventful failure, but that it was okay because then he got to go be a doctor (*sob!*).

Check out his stats and tell me that's not sad: he was never a great batter, but he was consistently in the mid .200's, which isn't bad. He worked his way up the minor league pecking order pretty quickly, too, starting out in the California League, then on to single, double, and finally triple A ball, progressing one league up each year. So obviously someone thought Mr. Anderson was alright, at least good enough for a promotion each year. It's when we get to 1959 that we run into Moonlight Graham territory:

April 10th, 1959 George Anderson reported up to Philadelphia as second baseman; on September 27th, 1959 he played in his final major league game ever. We don't get much of a narrative in these stats-obsessed kinds of sources, but it's fun to try and eke out a story: he ended up with a kind-of disappointing-but-by-no-means-terrible-for-a-rookie .218 batting average, so we can assume the major league pitching had him a little rattled. He committed 12 errors, but he got to play in 152 games that season, so it looks like he was the second baseman in Philly that year (no riding the pine in '59 for this one). But then they sent him back down to AAA, where he finished out his playing career with the Toronto Maple Leafs (no, not a hockey team) in 1963. It's strange: you've got to think that plenty of other notable baseball players started out with stats at (or below) those of Sparky's, but maybe they got second chances for some reason or another and the good Captain didn't.

But then, of course, Sparky broke into managing and that's how he ultimately got to Cooperstown. Can't say it's a bad ending (we just won't think too much about those years in Detroit).

In memory of Captain Hook I'm making a trip out to my local cinema today for an afternoon matinee: 4192, which will undoubtedly feature amazing footage of Sparky's glory years.