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welllpthisishappening · 6 years

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Sharks play the Rangers tonight.... And all I could think about is a scene where Will gets upset that the Sharks get to come out on the ice in a giant Shark head and thinks the team should try and trick the crowd by coming out on the ice through it. And Killian says no but Emma and Ruby think it'd be hilarious and get the Sharks on board for the hilarity.

Don’t make me write the thing. Don’t make me do it. I’m going to do it. Under the cut because of who I am as a person:

“It’s insane.”

“Scarlet, we’ve been over this, it’s part of the name,” Ruby sighed, tugging her hair over her shoulder and glaring at Will like she was waiting for the objection. He sighed. Loudly. “Tradition. I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

Will shrugged, looking at both Killian and Robin for support and he was going to do permanent damage to his throat if he groaned that loudly again. “Get us something cool too,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Our own shark head.”

“You don’t play for the Sharks,” Emma pointed out.

She tilted her head when Will glared, actually sticking his tongue out, and Killian’s arm tightened around her waist when she laughed. She had to sling her arm around his shoulders to keep her balance, only one foot on the floor from her perch on his thighs and she probably should have gotten her own stool, but they were leaving the restaurant soon and they had a flight to catch in a few hours and a West Coast swing that was critical to the standings. At least that’s how Arthur was quoted in The Post that morning.

Emma was fairly sure he ripped it up during morning skate.

“And it’s kind of weird,” Robin added, tugging a plate of fries towards him. Roland and Henry were both asleep in their own booth, jerseys still on from a win over the Caps. “I mean why the head? That’s just creepy.”

“Creepy,” Killian echoed, chest shaking a bit underneath Emma’s hand. He kissed her temple when she dropped her head onto his shoulder, holding one hand out expectantly to Robin. “Give me some of those fries.”

“You ate, Cap.”

“I skated for twenty minutes tonight. Give me the goddamn fries.”

“Testy,” Ruby chuckled, eyes a hint sharper than normal when she grabbed her own handful of fries. Killian shook his head. “Scarlet, I don’t know what you want me to tell you. You are not on the Sharks. You are, at least to my knowledge, not facing an imminent trade to the Sharks, you cannot come onto the ice through a shark head when we play in San Jose. This is not your first season in the league. Why are you complaining about this?”

Will shrugged, leaning over the bar to grab a glass and fill it with something when Regina started shouting, barely lifting her eyes away from her phone. “We could probably get him some interest from the Sharks,” she said. “You want to play in the Pacific, Scarlet?”

“God, Gina, c’mon,” he muttered. “That’s not what I was talking about. I just think it’s unfair that there are shark heads involved in the National Hockey League and we don’t get to do anything with them.”

“Think about the structure of that sentence,” Killian mumbled, drawing a laugh out of Emma when she tried to tug her phone out of her back pocket. “Swan, what are you trying to do?”

She grinned. “Answer Scarlet’s questions. Also, Scarlet, as an aside, if you mention to anyone in graphics that you don’t think our on-ice arrival isn’t award-worthy, they’ll probably all try and murder you with a zamboni or something.”

“They’d have to catch me first,” Will muttered.

“You are not that fast.”

He stuck his tongue out again.

“The shark head was built in 1993,” Emma read, glancing down at her phone. “And now they have fan events where people can skate through it and take their picture in it and, oh, it wasn’t supposed to ever be moved, but they took it to Candlestick for that outdoor game.”

“Levi,” Ruby corrected, grinning when Emma waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Didn’t they blow up Candlestick?”

“I think it’s the parking lot now,” Killian muttered, squeezing his arm when Emma sighed as dramatically as she possibly could.

“It cost almost $5,000 to move the shark head,” Emma continued. “Shit that’s a ton of money. Man, this is a weird team. Did you know their mascot was born out of a zamboni?” Robin nearly choked on a fry. “Seriously,” she said. “S.J. Sharkie. That’s not even all that creative. And, oh, the head thing was only supposed to happen for one game, but it’s ridiculous so people loved it and now they do it all the time.”

“I’m telling you, we are getting cheated out of a cool on-ice entrance,” Will grumbled, downing the rest of whatever was in his glass in three, quick gulps and Ruby shrugged when Emma caught her eye.

“I don’t see why not,” she said. “It’d be funny.”

“Backpage worthy,” Emma added and Ruby already had her phone pressed to her ear, talking a mile a minute as she jumped off her stool.

Will’s eyes went wide. “What is she doing? Emma? What is Lucas doing?”

“Go home, Scarlet, you’ve got an early flight to catch.”

It took a few more phone calls and Emma’s promise that they would sell the game-worn jerseys in some kind of joint auction to benefit both the Sharks and the Rangers and Will looked a bit like a kid on Christmas morning when she told him, throwing his arms around her neck and hugging her tight enough that her feet came off the floor.

And they made some sort of history – the first other team to skate through the shark head, met with the nearly overwhelming sound of boos and jeers and it made the backpage of The Post and the front page of Sports Illustrated and “The Best Thing I Saw Today” on the midnight edition of Sports Center.

“That was insane,” Will said, hours later and they’d won, but it almost didn’t matter because the pictures on Emma’s phone were enough to make the entire goddamn season feel worth it.

#klar425 #laura rambles #blue line rambles #blue line one shots #cs ff #i hope kevin hayes plays tonight

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cinephiled-com · 7 years

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New Post has been published on Cinephiled

New Post has been published on http://www.cinephiled.com/interview-robin-campillo-explores-work-act-paris-powerful-french-film-bpm/

Interview: Robin Campillo Explores the Work of ACT UP Paris in the Powerful French Film ‘BPM’

In Paris in the early 1990s, a passionate group of activists goes to battle for those stricken with HIV/AIDS, taking on sluggish government agencies and major pharmaceutical companies with bold, invasive actions. The organization is ACT UP — the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power — and its members embrace their task as a literal life-or-death mission. Director Robin Campillo (They Came Back, Eastern Boys), who joined ACT UP Paris himself as a young gay man, tells a riveting story in this film, BPM (Beats Per Minute), of how the ragtag organization helped bring about big changes.

In the Paris college classroom where the members of ACT UP PARIS meet to argue debate strategy and plan its protests, a newcomer named Nathan (Arnaud Valois) is attracted to one of the group’s most outspoken members, Sean (Nahuel Pérez Biscayart). Eager to push the limits in disruptive public confrontations, Sean grows testy and impatient with the more moderate approaches advocated by the group’s leaders, Thibault (Antoine Reinartz) and Sophie (Adèle Haenel). There is an urgency driving his radicalism — his health is more fragile than many of the other gay and straight activists. As the group scrambles from boisterous street demonstrations and boardroom face-offs to dance floors pulsing with light and rhythm, Nathan and Sean’s relationship deepens. As Sean gets sicker, their passion sparks against the shadow of mortality, and the community of activists plots its most dramatic protest yet. I sat down with Robin Campillo and actors Arnaud Valois and Nahuel Pérez Biscayart to discuss this moving film.

Danny Miller: I knew nothing about ACT UP Paris but I did know one of the founders of ACT UP Chicago, Dan Sotomayor, who died in 1992 when this film takes place. I’m sorry I didn’t get involved with the group at the time since I now really see the value of that kind of confrontational political action. Robin, having been a member of the organization, was this something you’ve long wanted to make a film about?

Robin Campillo: Yes. I have always wanted to do a film that touched on the AIDS epidemic but it took me some time to find the heart of what I wanted to say. I wrote some earlier scripts that I put away and more recently found myself thinking of this time in my life in the early 90s when I got involved with ACT UP. It was so not my personality to become militant in any way, but I was so angry and upset at the inaction at the time. I’ve always felt that the most popular political position is indifference. That remains a major problem in our society and it’s something that’s very difficult to fight against.

Do you think it’s because so many HIV-positive people were dying all around you that many people who never saw themselves as radical in any way became these courageous activists?

Yes, absolutely. Mobilization is always very hard to do, but you’re right, it’s because so many people were dying — we felt we had no choice. It’s very rare to have this political window where you can actually start to change things. ACT UP started here in the United States and we were very inspired by the American model. I was an editor for a TV news show and was editing a lot of stories about ACT UP. I heard the president of ACT UP Paris in one of these reports and was very impressed. And then, to be honest, one night I had this sex date planned very close to the place were ACT UP was meeting then, but the guy stood me up. I was upset about that and decided to go to the ACT UP meeting instead — which completely changed my life!

Wow, that’s the best story about being stood up that I ever heard!

(Laughs.) Many people in France at that time (and everywhere) were very afraid and intolerant of gay people, especially because of AIDS. So we decided to use that as a weapon. We would burst into all these events at different organizations and it was very powerful. Amongst ourselves we’d laugh at the effects we had on people — if they were afraid of us, we were going to make them even more afraid in order to make groups take action to help all the people who were getting sick.

I know this film is fictional, but I’m assuming if any character was based on you, it must be Nathan?

Yes, to some extent. Like me, Nathan is a newcomer, he’s shy, and he never thought he would end up an activist. And when Nathan is taking about his past in the film, it’s basically me. I actually wrote that text about 10 years ago for an AIDS conference, and I was very happy to put those words into Nathan’s mouth.

Arnaud Valois: And that was the only scene in the entire film where Robin said, “You have to say it word for word, stick to the text!” The only one.

Robin Campillo: It’s true. Of course, Nathan is much calmer than I was at the time. I really like my characters to have lots of contradictions, I’m not into archetypes that don’t really exist in the real world. I don’t make films because I completely know the characters, I make them because I want to discover the characters along with the audience. The first draft of the character that I write is never going to be the final character, I leave a lot to my actors.

That’s great — and what a lot of responsibility it gives to you, Arnaud and Nahuel. You’re both amazing in the film. Did you also feel a big responsibility to learn as much as you could about those times and the AIDS crisis?

Arnaud Valois: We read a book called ACT UP by Didier Lestrade, the first president of ACT UP Paris, we watched a lot of archival footage of the protests and some documentaries, but you know, Robin told us he did not want us to become experts on the subject — he wanted us to be like our characters, young and a bit naïve, and just go with the flow.

Nahuel Pérez Biscayart: I also watched this amazing documentary called Silverlake Life: The View from Here, from 1993 that was made by two HIV-positive guys who were filming each other and then one of them dies first and then the other. It was such a strong film — real-life first-person stuff about how the sickness really goes. For me, that was the perfect film to watch to understand what my character was going through, I didn’t watch any fiction films of the subject. Then, of course, it was just a matter of trust. I think a good director is someone who sees in you something that you may not be seeing. When you have that kind of trust, the energy just starts flowing, I didn’t just feel like I was playing a character, I felt like something bigger was happening.

I wasn’t there, obviously, but as an audience member, I had the feeling that the same kind of bonding that was happening within the ACT UP Paris group in the film was actually happening with the actors on the set.

It exactly was! Even though we were so different, each person in the cast was just so completely different from one another.

Robin Campillo: And that was the case in ACT UP, too. I wanted to recreate that energy and diversity, and that space and electricity that can happen between people. There’s such possibility when that happens.

Nahuel Pérez Biscayart: Some movies about real events think that they have the answers, that each character has the solution. Nobody gets lost in those films. But that’s not what this film is about at all.

After being in this film, do you feel like you’re more of an activist than you were before?

Arnaud Valois: More aware, that’s for sure, and more concerned.

There are so many analogies you can make to today when you watch this film, even apart from the AIDS crisis. I feel like we’re all being called on to become confrontational activists. Maybe we need an ACT UP Trump movement.

Robin Campillo: Sometimes it takes traumatic events to change a person. I remember reading this science fiction book when I was a kid that was about these aliens coming to Earth and some of the people on Earth really worked hard to learn the aliens’ language but then they discover that the act of speaking their language makes them actually become the aliens. That’s kind of how I felt in my life when I found ACT UP — I became someone different, a foreigner, a stranger to myself. And there was no possibility of going back to how it was before.

You could almost say it’s the other way around — that you were alien before and then you found your real self.

Maybe. But one of the things I love about cinema is that I think it can do that, too. A film can change you and make you feel like a stranger to yourself.

Does ACT UP Paris have an honored position in France these days? Or is the group dismissed as a bunch of troublemakers?

It was certainly not respected at the time by many people. It’s funny, though — to hear the discussions among people at Cannes when we brought the film there, you’d think that everyone loved ACT UP and that everyone was somehow involved with the group. All French people were in ACT UP like all French people were in the Resistance during World War II. No one collaborated with the Germans, right? It’s nice to make these claims now in retrospect but it’s just not true. Most were not on our side back then — we were just a bunch of fags and dykes and way too dodgy to be accepted at the time.

I love that this film does not rely on any of the stereotypes that many American films that touch on the AIDS epidemic do.

Nahuel Pérez Biscayart: Yeah, it’s a very unusual film compared to typical American cinema. Who are the main characters? You can go through half the film and not know. Who are the heroes? Who’s dying? Who’s in love with who?

The length of the film alone (2 hours and 20 minutes) would make American producers go nuts. Robin, did you get any pressure to shorten the film?

Robin Campillo: Not by my producers, but the programmer of Cannes called me and said they really loved the film but it was just too long so could I possibly cut it?

How did you respond?

I said, “Yes, I’ll try my best” and then we told him we cut seven minutes but in truth we only cut one! (Laughs.) They never noticed.

I wouldn’t have minded if it were an hour longer. I would have liked a whole film on Sophie, or the mother, or Thibault — any of those characters.

I love to think that when you see characters that they have an entire world of their own that we’re not seeing — that we don’t know them enough. Characters exist more like that in novels but in cinema, for some reason, characters are often ridiculously narrowed. Why do we have to do that?

I’m sure you’re aware of the horrific attacks against the LGBTQ community here since Trump took office. I assume it’s a much better situation in France right now?

I mean, Macron is not openly attacking LGBT groups, but he doesn’t really care, it’s not a subject he ever discusses. He really doesn’t know very much at all.

youtube

BPM (Bests Per Minute) opens today in Los Angeles and will be playing in select cities nationwide.

#ACT UP #AIDS #Arnaud Valois #BPM (Beats Per Minute)#Nahuel Pérez Biscayart #Robin Campillo #Interviews #What's Hot

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brido · 5 years

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Okay. Let’s Look at the Veteran’s Committee Candidates.

The Baseball Hall of Fame just announced the 10 candidates on this year’s Veteran’s Committee ballot. And it’s a fun one since it’s from the “Modern Baseball” era. Don Mattingly, Dwight Evans, Steve Garvey, Tommy John, Marvin Miller (yawn, a union executive), Thurman Munson, Dale Murphy, Dave Parker, Ted Simmons, and Lou Whitaker are on the ballot. That’s just about the sweet-spot for my elementary school baseball card collection. Let’s see where these guys stack up now in 2019. I’ll go in order of their JAWS score, which is a combination of their career rWAR and peak 7 years. Google it. Okay...

Lou Whitaker

Sweet Lou gets no respect. And that starts at home, where he played 19 seasons for the Detroit Tigers, is the 4th-greatest player in their franchise history and doesn’t even have his number retired by the team. I guess, either does Alan Trammell, with whom Whitaker is forever linked. So maybe they’re waiting for Whitaker to join Trammell in the Hall, but still. No respect. He even hates the nickname “Sweet Lou” and that’s how I started this paragraph.

Whitaker was the best player on the Tigers in 1983, 1989 and 1991. He was the best second baseman in the American League in 1982, 1985, 1986, 1988, 1991 and best in baseball in 1983. His career stats are similar to Ryne Sandberg, (of course) Trammell, Roberto Alomar, Joe Morgan, Joe Torre (who’s in as a manager, but could have made it as a player) and Barry Larkin. And JAWS ranks him as the 13th-best second baseman of all time, behind only Bobby Grich for non-Hall of Fame players. And only Robinson Cano and Chase Utley are better but ineligible. Over his long career (1977-1995), Whitaker is only behind Rickey Henderson, Wade Boggs, Cal Ripken, Mike Schmidt, Eddie Murray, Barry Bonds and George Brett for overall WAR.

And yet in 2001, possibly because WAR wasn’t really a thing yet, Whitaker only received 2.9% of the vote and fell off the Hall of Fame ballot after one chance. This feels like a crime. The man played the 1985 All-Star Game in replica merchandise purchased at the stadium in Minnesota. He wore a mesh cap and his number was drawn on in marker. Let the guy have something. Whitaker is probably the most-deserving player on this year’s Veterans Committee ballot. And if they vote for anyone, it might as well be him. A Hall of Fame with Trammell, and without Whitaker, feels like it’s missing something.

Dwight Evans

Dewey started his career as a stellar defensive right fielder - he has eight Gold Gloves - and then became a power hitter (by 80’s standards) later in his career. He was the best player on the Red Sox in 1974, 1981 and 1982. Although that team, at various times, had Carlton Fisk, Carl Yastrzemski, Jim Rice and Wade Boggs. Evans was the best overall player on the franchise from 1972-1990. And he’s the 4th-greatest player in franchise history (in terms of overall fWAR) after Ted Williams, Yastrzemski and Boggs. He played and lost two World Series with the team, all during the Curse of the Bambino.

Evans was also the best right fielder in the American League in 1984 and 1987, and the best in baseball in 1981 and 1982. And he was the best overall right fielder from 1972-1991. Over that same 20-year time period, he was also the 11th-best player in all of baseball. JAWS ranks him as the 15th-best right fielder of all time with a 52.2 score. That’s a smidge below average for a Hall of Famer, but everyone above him is in the Hall of Fame, except for Larry Walker and Shoeless Joe Jackson.

So the long career gets him his WAR numbers (where he remains 15th all-time), but it’s the relatively quiet peak (30th) that hurts him. Evans was ‘only’ an All-Star three times. He ‘only’ had three elite seasons. And he fell off the writers’ ballot after three tries. I think he deserved to win the 1981 AL MVP (he got 3rd), when he tied for the home run title (22) in the strike-shortened season. I also would have given him second in 1982, when he finished 7th.

The career numbers (385 home runs, 2,446 hits) are good, but not great. Similar to Billy Williams, Tony Perez and Al Kaline. Slightly below average for an inductee. Also, you would think the Gold Gloves would help, but 8 did equally nothing for Jim Edmonds. And 10 ain’t doing much for Andruw Jones. So here we are. Right field is rough. Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron and Stan Musial played right. They bring up all the average numbers at the position. And I could honestly go either way on this one. Which means I’d probably have to vote no.

Tommy John

Tommy John played for fucking ever. He was pitching in the Majors at age 46. And only Cap Anson and Nolan Ryan played in more seasons than John (26). And that’s with him taking off the 1975 season to recover from his namesake surgery. He was a compiler, whether you’re impressed by that or not. And with that came 288 career wins (only Roger Clemens and Bobby Mathews - who was from the 1870’s - have more and are not in the Hall) and lands him 21st all-time in career fWAR.

I should make a note here that fWAR and rWAR differs enough for pitchers that it makes a significant difference in his JAWS ranking. But in plain English, Baseball Reference thinks he was pretty mediocre in terms of Cooperstown worthiness. He’s 85th on JAWS for starting pitchers, which is behind way more non-Hall of Fame pitchers than I care to list. However, 80% of the pitchers with the most similar career stats (Robin Roberts, Bert Blyleven, Fergie Jenkins, Early Wynn, Tom Glavine, Burleigh Grimes, Don Sutton and Eppa Rixey) are in the Hall. That’s not nothing. And his Career Standards (44) would only be slightly below average for a Hall of Fame pitcher.

And since I prefer fWAR for pitchers, anyway, it’s probably important that John is 30th all-time in JAWS for that non-official ranking. And only behind Roger Clemens, Curt Schilling and Kevin Brown for non-Cooperstown pitchers. He’d be an above average Hall of Fame pitcher by that metric. But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.

John was often the best pitcher on the teams he played on. He was the best on the White Sox in 1968, 1969 and 1970, and the best overall during his tenure there (1965-1971). He was also the best pitcher on the Dodgers in 1976 and 1978 (a pennant year), but second-best overall, after Don Sutton. He was the best pitcher on the Yankees in 1979 and 1980, and second overall to Ron Guidry. He was the best pitcher on the Angels in 1983, third overall after Mike Witt and Geoff Zahn. And he was the best pitcher on the Yankees in 1987, and best overall there from 1986-1989. John only had 3 elite seasons in his long ass career. You could make an argument for him being the best pitcher in the AL in 1979, when he got second in Cy Young voting. His teammate Guidry should have won it, but it went to Mike Flanagan instead. John also got second in Cy Young voting in 1977 (I would have given him 5th).

Any way you slice it, John seems to be a top 10 pitcher in his era. I don’t love the Wins stat. Or the compilation of WAR stats. Especially with no real greatness on which to hang his hat. And I don’t think the ulnar collateral ligament reconstruction surgery that bears his name is so much an accomplishment for him as it is for Frank Jobe, the surgeon. John played for fucking ever. Which is not nothing. I just don’t think it’s quite enough of a ‘something’ to land him in the Hall.

Dale Murphy

There was probably a time in 1983, around the time Murphy won his second consecutive NL MVP Award, that people would have considered him the greatest player in the world. That was before WAR and everything, but still. He had RBI titles and that’s what got everyone horny in the 80’s. Well, that and (I’m assuming) cocaine.

Murphy was the best player on the Braves a decade before they decided to become a National League dynasty. And he’s one of those guys that advanced stats made look worse. Like, I’m sure nobody wants to hear that Chet Lemon was better than Dale Murphy, but here we are.

I’d say Murphy had five elite seasons. I would have given him the MVP in 1983, but not 1982 (I would have given that to Mike Schmidt and considered Murphy 5th). And then after a fairly decent peak, his numbers collapsed after 1987. Whoa. I just realized another hot shit Atlanta center fielder, Andruw Jones, kinda had something similar happen after he turned 30. But the end result is that Murphy is 25th on JAWS for center fielders. That’s behind Kenny Lofton, Jones, Jim Edmonds, Willie Davis, Jim Wynn, Vada Pinson, Cesar Cedeno, Chet Fucking Lemon, Johnny Damon and Fred Lynn. And it’s also behind Mike Trout (obviously) and Carlos Beltran.

In his own career (1976-1993), he’s 28th in overall WAR. That’s not Hall worthy. But he seems like a nice and charitable Mormon man. I heard they can turn it off like a light switch. We all should too.

Ted Simmons

Should the top 10 players at every position be in the Hall of Fame? I think so. As it stands now, Simmons is 10th in all-time JAWS as a catcher and is the only one (other than Joe Mauer, who retired in 2018) who isn’t currently enshrined. If we go around every position’s top 10 non-enshrined he’s in a pretty elite company with Bobby Grich (2B), Scott Rolen (3B), Bill Dahlen (SS), Barry Bonds (LF), Pete Rose (LF), Manny Ramirez (LF), Kenny Lofton (CF), Larry Walker (RF), Roger Clemens (SP), six relief pitchers I don’t care about and non-eligible superstars like Mauer, Albert Pujols, Robinson Cano, Adrian Beltre, Alex Rodriguez and Mike Trout. It seems pretty clear to me that Simmons should be in the Hall.

He was the best player on the Cardinals in 1972, 1973, 1975, 1976, 1977 and 1978 and was the best overall player there during his (1968-1980) tenure. He was also the best catcher in the National League in 1973 and 1977. And he was the best in baseball in 1978. And over his entire career (1968-1988), he was second best overall to Johnny Bench - the greatest catcher of all time - who’s own career (1967-1983) was occurring at the exact same time as Simmons’.

Maybe he’s a victim of bad timing. Simmons’ contemporaries, besides Bench, include Gary Carter (2nd all-time) and Carlton Fisk (4th). But as Jay Jaffe has pointed out, there were 5 active Hall of Fame catchers in 1929 and every year from 1931-1937. So the fact that 4 Hall of Fame catchers would have played between 1974-1983 would not be weird at all. And we’ll talk about a 5th, Thurman Munson (1969-1979), in just a second.

Simmons’ bad timing also included a playoff drought for St. Louis. Which probably had more to do with trading Steve Carlton than the play of Simmons. I would say he had 4 elite seasons while he was in St. Louis. He has similar career stats to Alan Trammel, Joe Torre, Carlton Fisk, Gary Carter, Barry Larkin, Joe Cronin and Yogi Berra. And the top 10 in similarity scores are rounded out by Lou Whitaker (who I heavily insinuated should be in the Hall a moment earlier) and Miguel Tejada.

There have been a lot of theories as to why Simmons still isn’t in Cooperstown. There were contract disputes. There was the fact that he was against the Vietnam War and against Nixon. He was seen as a bad defensive catcher, although current metrics show that to be way overblown. He butted heads with Whitey Herzog, who also wound up as a Veteran’s Committee voter. Which would be even more bad timing. But I think Simmons has mainly been vindicated on all of those things over time. And the timing should finally be right for his induction.

Thurman Munson

His career was cut short after a tragic Cessna crash in 1979. Otherwise, who knows? Munson was the best player on the Yankees in 1973 and 1975. And the best overall from 1969-1979. He was the best catcher in the American League in 1970, 1975 and 1976 and the best in baseball in 1973. His 11-year career also includes a Rookie of the Year Award, two World Series rings and an MVP Award in 1976. The Yankees also made him the team’s first captain since Lou Gehrig. And after his death, the Yankees immediately retired his number and never replaced his locker at old Yankee Stadium.

A short career makes for some sub-par Hall of Fame numbers. And nobody with similar career stats is enshrined in Cooperstown. And that 1976 MVP was a bit of a stretch, even though he was 10th in the AL in fWAR. I would have given him a top 5 finish in 1973, when he finished 12th, but what are you gonna do?

Even with Munson’s untimely death, he’s still 13th all-time on JAWS for catchers. And he’s 8th in peak (WAR7) for catchers, above average for a Hall of Fame catcher and tied with Buster Posey. Which is extra fun since Munson and Posey both won a Rookie of the Year, an MVP, a Gold Glove, a World Series title, and a College Baseball All-American nod. And they’re the only catchers to do all that.

It might be hard to say yes to Munson without putting Ted Simmons in first. Simmons is two spots higher on JAWS. And over Munson’s career (1969-1979), he’s third in fWAR after Johnny Bench and Simmons. But that peak is still better than Simmons’. And Munson still hit .357 in the postseason. Including a 9-for-17 outburst in a losing effort against Bench and the “Big Red Machine” in 1976. I mean, a Yankees team that won back-to-back titles considered Munson their heart and soul. And they had Catfish Hunter, Goose Gossage, Reggie Jackson and some pretty good years around that time from Willie Randolph, Graig Nettles and Ron Guidry. I could honestly go either way. So why not? But Simmons probably needs to go in first.

Don Mattingly

Two of my closest friends consider Mattingly their favorite player of all time. And he’s in one of the greatest "Simpsons" episodes of all time. Oh, and unbeknownst to the writers, he was benched for refusing to trim his mullet in 1991. So there’s that too. But let’s talk about his career.

Donnie Baseball was the face of the New York Yankees when the Yankees were in the longest postseason drought in their post-Babe-Ruth history. They were in the World Series the year before he joined the team. They won the World Series the year after he retired. You could argue that they would have won it all in the strike-shortened season in 1994. But as it stands, Mattingly’s only postseason with the Yankees was that 1995 ALDS against the Seattle Mariners that ended in the bottom of the 11th with a walk-off double (ahem, THE Double) by Edgar Martinez and an elated Ken Griffey Jr. at the bottom of a doggy pile. Mattingly is considered the greatest Yankee to never play in a World Series with the team (probably Rickey Henderson only played 5 seasons in the Bronx) and he’s the only Yankee to have his number retired by the team, without winning at least one ring (Your move, Aaron Judge).

It definitely wasn’t his fault.

Mattingly was the best player on the Yankees in 1984, 1986 and 1987. Henderson was better in ’85, even though that’s somehow the year Mattingly won his MVP (I’d would have given him 4th, after George Brett, Henderson and Wade Boggs). Mattingly SHOULD have won an AL MVP in 1984. And there’s a really good argument for Mattingly winning it in 1986, even though the bozo writers gave it to Roger Clemens (Pitchers have their own awards, guys! And Boggs was on the same team! How are you so stupid???).

Mattingly was also the best American League first baseman from 1984-1987. And probably the best in baseball at first in ’85 and ’86. During Mattingly’s own career (82-95), Eddie Murray was better. And Mark McGwire played in more All-Star Games. But I already know what you’re gonna say about that. Pat yourself on the back for your moral superiority.

Mattingly won 9 Gold Gloves. He was the A.L. MVP in 1985. He won a batting title in 1984. And then he got into a clubhouse wrestling match with Bob Shirley in 1987, injured his back, and wasn’t really the same after that. I guess, it was the same year as Hogan-Andre at WrestleMania III and wrestling was pretty big at the time, but yeah. The Yankees promptly released Shirley, by the way. Mattingly would have moments where he looked like his old self. He was still great, defensively. But the back problems persisted. And Mattingly ended his career after only 14 seasons, when he was 34-years-old.

Mattingly is ranked on JAWS as the 40th-best first baseman of all time. That’s behind first basemen like Rafael Palmeiro, Todd Helton, McGwire, Keith Hernandez, John Olerud, Will Clark, Fred McGriff, Norm Cash, Dolph Camilli, Gil Hodges, and Carlos Delgado. That’s also behind not-yet-eligible first basemen like Albert Pujols, Miguel Cabrera, Joey Votto, Jason Giambi, David Ortiz, Mark Teixeira, and Paul Goldschmidt. He has 222 career home runs, 2,153 hits, and a .307 career average. Of the 10 most-similar batters, only Kirby Puckett is in the Hall of Fame. He would be well below average for a Hall of Fame first baseman. Better than Mark Grace. About half as good as Frank Thomas.

Should Mattingly be in the Hall of Fame? No. Then again, he was better than Harold Baines, so what do I fucking know? But Mattingly spent 15 years on the writers’ ballot. He never got higher than 28.2% of the vote (his first year). His final season only garnered 9.1%. His peak wasn’t high enough. His career wasn’t long enough. And he definitely shouldn’t have played grab ass with Bob Shirley in 1987. The sideburns, however, can stay.

Dave Parker

They called him “The Cobra”, he used a sledgehammer in the on-deck circle, he wore a Padres helmet AND a Reds helmet in the 1977 All-Star Game… while he was on the Pirates, and he loved cocaine. Boy did he ever, apparently. He was also the best player on the Pirates in 1975, 1977, 1978 and 1979. And then he was the best player on his hometown Reds in 1984 and 1985. I’d also say he was the best right fielder in baseball in ’75, ’77, ’78 and the best in the N.L in ’85. Parker was a seven-time All-Star, he won two batting titles, three Gold Gloves, two World Series rings and received MVP votes in nine different seasons, including winning one in 1978. He was baseball’s first million dollar contract. I think he had five elite seasons. He deserved that ’78 MVP. And I would have given him 2nd in 1975 (he got 3rd), 4th in 1977 (3rd again), 6th in 1979 (10th) and 5th in 1985 (he got 2nd). Parker also got 5th place in 1986, which is stupid. Dude had a 0.7 fWAR, but he also had 116 RBI and you know how stupid these guys were with the RBI.

It’s possible the cocaine got the best of him. Or the injuries. Or the weight gain. Because it looked like he was well on his way to a Hall of Fame career in the late 70’s, and except for a brief bump (sorry) in 1985, he didn’t do much else after 1979. That leaves Parker as the 5th-best right fielder, even in his own exact timeframe in the Majors (1973-1991, after Dwight Evans, Dave Winfield, Andre Dawson and Reggie Jackson). He would be well below average for a Hall of Fame right fielder. JAWS ranks him as the 39th-best right fielder of all time. That’s behind Larry Walker, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Evans, Reggie Smith, Sammy Sosa, Bobby Bonds, Gary Sheffield, Brian Giles, Jack Clark, Tony Oliva, Rocky Colavito, and Rusty Staub. He’s also behind not-yet-eligible players like Ichiro Suzuki, Bobby Abreu, and Mookie Betts. He was better than Darryl Strawberry. Miles behind Tony Gwynn.

With over 2,700 hits and 339 home runs in 19 seasons, Parker does have similar career stats to Tony Perez, Billy Williams, Harold Baines and Andre Dawson. Not quite inner-circle guys. And Parker never got more than 24% of the vote from the writers. And I think he’s relegated to the Hall of Very Good. But he’s not a Hall of Famer.

Steve Garvey

They called him Mr. Clean, even though he totally wasn’t. He has some, uh, ugly relationships with women. A weird fact that dashed all of his hopes to become a Republican Congressman later in life. I think a lot of Garvey’s popularity and fame during his career had to do with his looks. He was never the best player on the Dodgers. And during his tenure there (1969-1982), he was second to Ron Cey in overall fWAR. And while he was the best first baseman in the National League in 1975, 1976 and 1978, he was only 7th-best over the 15 years he played first base (1973-1987) after Keith Hernandez, Darrell Evans, Rod Carew, Eddue Murray, Gene Tenace and Pete Rose. JAWS ranks him as the 51st-greatest first baseman of all time, behind too many non-Hall players than I care to type. His career numbers are similar to Orlando Cepeda (#33), but they look more like those of John Olerud (#22), Will Clark (#26) and Mark Grace (#41). Even though all of those players were better.

It was the FAME part of the equation that Garvey seemed to have down. He was a 10 time All-Star. He remained a part of a Dodgers infield with Ron Cey, Bill Russell and Davey Lopes for 8.5 years. He played in 1,207 consecutive games (1975-1983), which is the 4th-longest streak ever. He won a ring with the Dodgers in 1981 and was a two-time NLCS MVP. And in 1974, he won an NL MVP while only finishing 20th in the League in WAR. And he got really close again in 1978. But he didn’t really deserve to be in that conversation either. Of all the player’s on this year’s ballot, Garvey is the weakest candidate.

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