Willie Davis, 69. Was some kind of ballplayer.
 

Saw him many times versus the Mets. He bridged two eras. He was terrific. I saw him make a catch at Shea in the late 60's I will never forget.

http://bit.ly/d6jzWx

Didn't he wear those "lamb chop" sideburns (courtesy of Elvis)?

Really good, solid ballplayer - no flaws.....

Very good defensive CF whose numbers were hampered by playing his first 8 years before they lowered the mound. His hitting numbers jumped dramatically begining in 1969, the first season with the lower mound. The current player that he most resembles is probably Curtis Granderson.

They say that foul play was not suspected in his death, but I know that it was Pro Ride that killed Wilie.

Wille could be seen on track at Santa Anita. He looked to be older that he really was and you knew his winners were far and few between.

May he rest in peace.

great player whom i saw a few times as a kid but sadly i remember him most as the guy on the downslope of his career the dodgers traded to the expo's for mike marshall (the pitcher, not the outfielder).

what a great year for the dodger front office. they also sent claude osteen and some minor leaguer to houston for jimmy wynn.

i almost miss caring about baseball when i think about how great those trades were.

Jimmy Wynn! The Toy Cannon.

God's post that dredged up Jimmy Wynn made me think for a second that it was the Toy Cannon that was involved when baseball was tracking who was going to score the 1,000,000th run in history. I thought it came down to Wynn and maybe Cesar Cedeno crossing the plate at almost the exact same time, but some research turns up the facts: It was actually Bob Watson and Davey Concepcion! (Truthfully, there isn't a whole lot seperating Bob Watson/Jimmy Wynn and Cesar Cedeno/Davey Concepcion...)

Anyway, the research to get the correct names involved turned up this terrific blog, BASEBALL MINUTIA, which I think anyone of a certain age will love.

I actually typed (on a typewriter for you youngsters here) a letter to Cesar Cedeno, when I was a young Astros fan. I sent it to him c/o the Astrodome. I never got a response, so that became my one and only attempt at contacting a professional player. Was kind of disappointing to a 8-9 year old kid....

:o

Man, you are OLD. What's a typewriter?

Seth..you'll appreciate this..only time I ever wrote an athlete was when I asked Rod Gilbert for his autograph...got a nice signed pic back in the mail.. Made my week

You're lucky he didn't seek you out during spring training some year and beat you senseless. By all accounts, Cedeno was not a pleasant guy.

That is awesome. I was a big Walter Tkaczuk fan myself. The "Human Tripod" as Bill Chadwick used to call him.

http://nyrangerslegends.blogspot.com...t-tkaczuk.html

He is so old, after he typed it on the typewriter, he sent the letter via Pony Express:eek:

As a kid, reading of his on the field exploits in The Sporting News and living 2,000 miles away, I didn't know anything about his demeanor.

You can do better than that.

I know. This cold is kicking my ass, so I'm still half out of it:wf

Being a lifelong Astros fan, I still remember the year Jimmy Wynn showed up to spring training 30 pounds overweight. What did he do during the offseason. He got a job at a brewery as a beer taster.


Too bad the Astros are going to be the Lastros for the foreseeable future.

I actually used to hand write those letters all the time, and actually got a signed picture from the great one himself Wayne Gretzky. I couldn't believe it. Then in one of the very rare dick moves my father (who I love dearly) ever pulled, he went on to tell me that Gretzky gets thousands of letters a day and probably has a secretarty that answers and signs everything he gets. Way to crush an 11 year old Pop, but I really believe that Gretzky signed it. The only thing is that I have absolutely no idea where it is.

He was the Joey Belle of his era.

1998, my old man is dying of cancer. He's down to his last few days and is getting hospice care (copious amounts of morphine on demand) at home. Different members of our family are with him 24/7 on the death watch. Absolutely the last time I sat with my pop when he was alive was a Saturday afternoon in April. The White Sox are on the tube and I'm watching and he's sleeping.

The year before this the Sox spent a king's ransom to get that *******, Albert "Joey" Belle,for 10 million a year. Huge mistake. The guy was an even bigger turd than advertised. First year he was great, the second year he was a disaster. Besides his diminished skills, what was most apparent about him was that he was genuinely insane. Almost on a weekly basis there was a new revelation about some some altercation or a domestic dispute involving this lunatic away from the ballpark. Since the sportswriters had always been the first to catch his wrath in the best of times when he was a productive player, they were the first to unload on this creep every chance they got. And in 1998, they dropped the house on him. Within days, even the most loyal of his fans wanted him gone. And the louder the boos, the less productive he became.

The day I'm sitting with my dad, the White Sox load the bases with no outs. The next guy out strikes out. Still, we have a chance for a big inning. Up comes Albert Belle. He milks the count to 3 and O. The pitcher hasn't got a clue where the ball is going. All Belle has to do is leave the bat on his shoulder and this pig walks him in and the line starts moving. Big inning coming, baby! What's this jag do? He swings on 3 and 0 and dribbles the ball to short for an inning-ending double play. "Goddammit" I scream. Suddenly, my pop is startled awake by my yelling. It's literally the first time he's been awake in a week. I thought he'd fall back asleep immediately being in that dope-induced state. Instead, he just stared at me for several moments. With all his strength he starts speaking, but his voice was reduced to a whisper. I can't make out a word of what he is saying. He tried speaking again. Same thing. I don't hear a word. He motions his hand for me to come closer. Suddenly it hits me. He's about to die and he's going to speak to me for the last time. God, give me strength. My dad is about to pass the secret of life to his son before he passes away. I tense and momentarily freeze. I clear my head so I'm sure I remember his every word. This is one of those seminal moments in life I will never forget. One day I will be in the same place no doubt passing on the same information I'm about to receive to my children on my deathbed. I braced myself as I lowered my ear to within an inch of his lips to hear those last precious words. With all his strength my old man whispered those pearls of wisdom I will never forget. "We gotta get rid of that ****ing Albert Belle".

Barney - very sorry for your loss, but this is one of the greatest stories evar. :tro:

That story is absolutely priceless. :tro:

No one on the Intranet, and I mean no one, uses his posting opportunities as sparingly and meaningfully as our Barney. To this day, the author of DT's single greatest post... A post which lives on eternally... lovingly... only in the memory of those that enjoyed its' fleeting munificence. Thank you satan for another pearl.

Wow, simply fantastic. Thanks for sharing.

Sometimes, when my Dad calls on the phone, he sounds like he has something very important to say. I expect him to say that he (or my mom) got a bad report from a Doctor. Then, he suddenly says " Here's Mom, " and I realize he's in an all-out attempt to change her mood (with a phone hi.) I can go maybe 15 minutes (tops.) That's actually a long time to act interested. I'm exhausted when it's done, but she feels better.

Willie was my favorite player during the 1st few years or so that I started going to games. He could fly. Anything down the line was gunna have a chance to be a triple. Seems like he was the best thing about the Dodgers in the early 70's.

I thought it worked... 'fleeting munificence' as to say 'a gift or a generosity that came and went'...

Should have sent it in spanish and folded in a gram...