Using a Sharpie, protractor and some creativity allowed on an Auto Club fold-out map, the area to circle in Southern California that we’ve been calling the South Bay (as opposed to the one by the same name that also exists in Northern California) starts with anything in sweeping proximity of the Santa Monica Bay. Yet, you’re supposed to exclude the cities of Santa Monica, Venice and Marina del Rey, whose neighborhoods preferred to be more aligned with “The Westside.”
The coastline south of LAX and Westchester hits El Segundo, and the beaches of Manhattan, Hermosa and Redondo. The Palos Verdes peninsula juts out with Rolling Hills and San Pedro at the Port of L.A., which goes right up Wilmington, Carson and Gardena. It surrounds Torrance, Hawthorne, Lawndale, Lomita and Lennox, touching as far north as Inglewood. It can stretch East to Dominguez Hills and its Cal State campus, and it of course can wade into the Pacific Ocean to capture Catalina Island.
There are more than a dozen cities and boundaries of L.A. proper that claim it. And it’s baseball fertile, especially with youth teams, high schools and JCs.
The game’s royalty associated with the area starts with George and Ken Brett, George Foster, Garry Maddox, Mike Scott, Scott McGregor, Brian Harper, Jason Kendall and Alan Ashby. Dozens of MLB players are also connected to the area over the last 100 years.
Now’s as good a time as any to cast a bigger net when trying to record its history.
There’s the introduction to Raul “Bumble” Gonzales on the cover, in photo that appears to be hand-colored, highlighting the blue and white of his uniform of the Pan Pacific Fisheries.
Rickey Henderson, right, looks over J.J. Guinn’s shoulder to see the scouting report Guinn wrote about him in 1976. Credit: .Jim Wilson/The New York Times
In July, 2021, the New York Times’ Alex Coffey dove into the relationship between Hall of Famer Rickey Henderson and the scout that signed and nurtured him, J.J. Guinn. The focus is on what Guinn saw of Henderson on one particular day:
“Guinn focused on his strengths: Henderson’s speed, athleticism and lateral range,” writes Coffee. “Where others saw impediments, Guinn saw possibility. …
“Only two M.L.B. teams were present for an American Legion game at Bushrod Park on that day in 1976: the Athletics and the Los Angeles Dodgers. After Henderson struck out in his first two at-bats, the Dodgers scout stood up. ‘I’ve seen enough,’ Guinn recalled him saying. ‘I have a plane to catch.’
“Henderson homered in his next two at-bats and Guinn feverishly typed out a report to his scouting director. His advice: Sign Rickey Henderson ‘right away’.”
On page 34 of Howard Bryant’s book, now it can be retold with a few more pieces of info:
“The scouts who watched Rickey had no doubt they were watching a gifted athlete, but they were unconvinced about him as a baseball player. Doubt was baked into their DNA – scouts never missed a chance to emphasize what a player couldn’t do. Rarely did they see what a player was or what he could be. … So they were doubtful that 17-year-old Rickey would ever make it to the big leagues. Too many problems, they said.”
Yet this was an area that had not-too-far-back produced players like Curt Flood, Joe Morgan, Frank Robinson and Vada Pinson. As Bryant adds, “Oakland kids were defiant, wholly independent, creative outsiders with an irreverent style. Rickey’s generation was young, and they were imbued with the spirit of Oakland.”
Now it was Henderson, Gary Pettis, Claudell Washington, Dave Stewart, Von Joshua, Bip Roberts, Ruppert Jones, Glenn Burke … all-around athletes who might be lured to baseball for the right price and nurturing.
I just love posing this question to Oakland Technical High School, where the Pointer Sisters and Rickey would lose out to Clint Eastwood… https://t.co/eHXQBkorrc
The Dodgers had two full-time scouts in the area – Dick Hager and Dick Hanlan — who had been watching Stewart, an up-and-coming catcher (before he would be drafted by them and converted into a pitcher). This time, the franchise’s scouting director, Bill Brenzel, had come to watch Oakland Tech against Skyland (a high school game, not an American Legion contest?)
Brenzel was an Oakland guy, himself a player who grew up in the area 50 years earlier.
“He showed up, sat right down and waited for Rickey to show him what he had,” Bryant writes. “Brenzel introduced himself to J.J. Guinn, who was seated next to him. Guinn would recall that Brenzel’s countenance said it all: Important guy. With the Dodgers. The Dodgers always created a buzz.”
Henderson strikes out his first two times up.
“As Rickey walked back to the dugout, Brenzel was done. He was a performance scout, and Rickey hadn’t performed. Guinn would remember that, as Brenzel stood up, he heard the scout mutter something to the effect of ‘I’ve seen enough’ and ‘got a plane to catch.’ Then he left.
“And that is how J.J. Guinn and the Oakland A’s got the inside track on signing Rickey Henderson.”
Henderson homersin his next two at-bats, the second one longer than the first.
“ ‘If he’d have stayed,’ Jim Guinn recalled (referring to Brenzel), ‘Rickey would have been a Dodger.’”
Guinn watched Henderson for 20 games, 140 innings in all, yet still didn’t write up all that impressive scouting report. In the one done prior to the June 1976 draft – using the 2 to 8 scale, with 8 being outstanding — he gave Henderson’s running ability a 7 (present, and future), a 5 for baseball instincts and aggressiveness and a 3 for fielding and hitting ability. Guinn also compared him to a Cleon Jones because he threw left and batted right.
All in all, Guinn still recommended the A’s draft the local kid. As a pitcher. They did.
At the end of the fourth round, long after the Dodgers had already drafted catcher Mike Scioscia in the first round (who would play more games at that position in L.A. Dodgers history than anyone else), shortstop Don Ruzek in the second round, outfielder Max Venable in the third round (an eventual big-leaguer) and, six picks before Henderson, pitcher Marty Kunkler.
(Kunkler, listed by his formal first name of George below, was a 20th-round pick out of high school by the Dodgers in ’73. Then he went to college. He lasted two minor-league seasons in the Dodgers organization.)
For what it’s worth, Jack Morris went to the Tigers two picks later after Henderson, in the fifth round, and Ozzie Smith went to the Tigers and Wade Boggs went to the Red Sox in the seventh round. All Hall of Famers as well. The California Angels weren’t any more insightful, but at least were looking OK taking L.A. native Ken Landreaux in the first round out of Arizona State plus a couple others who got to the big-leagues without much fanfare.
Danielle Goldey and Meredith Kott went to a Dodgers game on Aug, 8, 2000, shared their affection with a passionate smooch whilst in their Dodger Stadium seats during a seventh inning celebration, and, soon enough, eight security people descended on them to show them the exit. Those complaining said kids ought not be watching this stuff.
Patt Morrison of the L.A. Times would write about it weeks later under the headline: “A Smooch Too Far.” Bill Plaschke also verified for the Times’ sports readers that this was in fact a French kiss, “but witnesses say it was nothing blatant or inappropriate.” Good thing we had impartial witnesses. Plaschke also had a quote from Goldey: “If we started disrobing, started feeling each other up, that would be inappropriate. We knew there were kids around. We know there are things you don’t do in public. My mother raised me to know right from wrong.”
(Morrison also noted that Goldey’s mother was in the real estate business and sold several Dodgers their homes over the years. Gotta know when to play that ‘Do you know who my mom is? card.)
The couple went to their lawyer, who talked to the Dodgers, who instead of trying to talk their way around it, went the extra yard. Then-team president Bob Graziano not only issued an organizational apology, but donated 5,000 tickets to gay-rights groups, and worked it out so that Sept. 6 would be the first Gay and Lesbian Night at Dodger Stadium, co-hosted by GLADD and the LA Gay & Lesbian Center. The couple got seats for that game behind home plate.
What’s now called the Dodgers’ Pride Night has evolved into a prideful moment on the promotion schedule – it happens this Friday when the Dodgers take on the New York Mets, followed by fireworks. We are starting national LGBT Pride Month that honors the 1969 Stonewall Uprising in Manhattan. It was established as a national event in 2000, and expanded by President Obama in ’11 to its current name.
The staff at Outsports.com – a sponsor of the event — reminds us that LGBTQ trailblazer Glenn Burke will be honored this time. Family members of the late Dodgers outfielder will throw out the first pitch. Last year, the Oakland A’s did the same honoring of Burke on their Pride Night.
This year, as a rainbow-colored “LA” logo will be etched on the ground behind the pitcher’s mound, players will wear jerseys with the Dodgers script logo decked out in coloring scheme that would make the 1980s Houston Astros envious.
On hand for pre-game ceremonies includes former Dodgers outfielder and MLB ambassador for inclusion Billy Bean, transgender MMA fighter Fallon Fox and Military Hero of the Game Lieutenant Belita Edwards. Somewhere, Dodgers co-owner Billie Jean King will have a presence.
“Glenn probably would have said, ‘Dang, about time!’” Davis said with exuberance and an easy chuckle last week. “He’d be grinning from ear to ear. He would be thrilled that he was thought about that much, really.”https://t.co/UXb5O4gPLY
The retired umpire who came out in 2014 as the first openly gay MLB umpire — also the first active male official to come out in MLB, the NFL, NBA or NHL — was present and accounted for in 2018 Pride Night to throw out the first pitch. That was a year after he retired following 33 MLB seasons and nearly 40 overall in pro baseball, as he knew it was for his better health after suffering frequent concussions over the years (he worked exactly 1,000 games behind home plate).
The Dodger Stadium inclusion of Scott, who turns 63 in August, lines up nicely with the release of a gratifying autobiography about his life and career that is one of the more enjoyable and poignant reads of this baseball season.
Dale Scott, center in Dodgers’ jersey, with MLB umpires (left) Todd Tichenor and Alan Porter, plus Bill Miller and Angel Hernandez (far right), as well as NBA referee Bill Kennedy (with rainbow NBA logo shirt) as Scott threw out the first pitch on Pride Night at Dodger Stadium on June 8, 2018. (Photo by Jayne Kamin-Oncea/Getty Images)
When sorting out a list of what to include in the annual book reviews, one thing that drew us toward investing in this came from a recent post on Outsports.com by Ken Schultz that included:“When I tell you that Scott’s autobiography made me legitimately laugh out loud numerous times in the first chapter alone, that in and of itself is one of the highest tributes I can give … One of the best things I can say about the book is that Scott and co-author Rob Neyer seamlessly transferred his honest and self-effacing voice to the page and made it look effortless. In reality, I know how hard that is to do and it goes a long way toward making the decades of baseball stories he tells that much more entertaining.”
Over the last few decades, it feels as if there are three sorts of “umpire tells all” we’ve come across:
== Dave Pallone’s “Behind the Mask: My Double Life in Baseball,” which came out first in 1990, was updated in 2002, pulling a New York Times review excerpt: “The controversial umpire speaks out about the game and his gay life … brutal candor!” Pallone may have been the “first” gay umpire to talk about it, but it wasn’t by choice, more of being forced into it going back to how his counterparts resented him for crossing a picket line to umpire in the late ‘70s and then stay for a decade.
Scott, who has umpired in three World Series, six league championship series and 12 divisional series, goes an authentic route that combines three things: Self-deprecating humor, a seriousness about his work, and the current hot topic of LBGTQ.
In 2005, Scott is in the middle of a messy situation around the ejection of Angels pitcher Brendan Donnelly for using a foreign substance on his glove. Washington Nationals manager Frank Robinson, tipped off about Donnelly’s glove from one of his players who was a former Donnelly teammate, called for the inspection as Donnelly was taking his warmups. Angels manager Mike Scioscia tried to divert the ejection by having Donnelly change gloves before he actually threw his first official pitch. Scott, as the crew chief, takes us through how he no choice but to eject him, no matter how much Scioscia protested.
The story expands to how Scioscia came out the next inning to point out the Nationals’ pitcher had a glove with strings that were too long and could be a distraction. Scott had to agree, based on the rules, and took care of that.
Which led to some exchanges that Scott was nice enough to document:
Scioscia: “That’s fucking bush league, Frank! You’re better than that!” Robinson: “You’re a fucking cunt.”
(Scott later writes about the tension: “Because there was never much chance of someone actually getting hurt, we all sort of enjoyed that one.”)
And what was Scott’s eventual take-away from the whole thing?
Frank Robinson, left, is held back by Tim Tschida, center left, and Dale Scott holds back Mike Scioscia after Angels pitcher Brendan Donnelly was ejected for having a foreign substance in his glove on June 14, 2005. (Photo by Matt A. Brown / AP Photo / Orange County Register)
“The next day in the L.A. Times sports section, above the fold, I saw a photo of me and (umpire Tim Tschida trying to get between both managers. In this photo – and frankly the angle wasn’t doing either of us any favors – I looked like a walrus. I had so much fucking fat underneath my chin – or should I say, chins – that they seemed to be multiplying like guppies … the only thing I could hear in my mind was the Beatles, “I Am The Walrus.’”
(The photo isn’t included in the book. We tracked it down above).
So on one of his days off that summer, Scott found a plastic surgeon to undergo liposuction. Before Scott and his partner Mike Rausch went on a European vacation after the season, Scott also got a face lift. A few years later, he admits he got a Bosley hair transplant.
“So now, I can check off the ‘You’re So Vain’ and ‘stereotypical gay man’ boxes,” he writes to finish the chapter.
One more revealing moment about how Scott treasured his work comes when he discusses his involvement in the 2009 ALCS between the Angels and Yankees.
“The first three games, for our perspective anyway, were uneventful. The fourth game was a shithouse,” he writes.
In Game 4, the Angels tried to pick the Yankees’ Nick Swisher off second base. Scott calls him safe, then looks up at the video replay and realizes Swisher was really out. There is no video review/manager challenges then.
A few moments later, umpire Tim McClelland rules Swisher was out for leaving second base too early trying to tag up on a fly ball and go to third. The video board (and TV) replays again suggested McClelland erred, even if it, in effect, made up for the first blown call.
The Yankees’ Jorge Posada (20) is caught in a rundown between third and home, resulting in what should have been a double play for the Angels after he and Robinson Cano, right, were tagged out. (Photo: Barton Silverman/The New York Times) from a NYTimes score headlined “Umpiring Stumbles to the Fore” in 2009.
An inning later, the Yankees’ Jorge Posada is in a rundown between third and home, as teammate Robinson Cano also arrives at third. Both are on the same base. Both are confused and step off the base. Both are tagged.
Angels catcher Mike Napoli appears to tag out both Robinson Cano and Jorge Posada in the fifth inning, but only Posada is called out by third-base umpire Tim McClelland. (John Munson/The Newark Star-Ledger)
Writes Scott: “It should have been a double play, which was obvious to everyone watching on TV … but (McClelland) didn’t realize Cano was off the base when tagged and left him safe at third. I didn’t see Cano off the base when he was tagged, either, although I wasn’t looking for it. I was behind second base looking down the baseline toward third while keeping an eye on the batter-runner Swisher and if he was continuing on to second. Everything happened with a lot of moving parts. … The Yankees ended up winning 10-1, but all anyone wanted to talk about us was us.”
The next day, in Game 5, Clark had what he calls “a wacker” at first base — Johnny Damon is called out to end an inning. Replays showed Scott erred again. On the Fox broadcast, Joe Buck is talking now about all the blown calls in the series.
Writes Scott: “I’m not sure that anyone who has never umpired or officiated knows how low you feel when you miss a call, even moreso when it’s in a postseason or extremely important regular-season game. It haunts you, follows you, and can (unfairly) brand you not only for the rest of your career but well after you’ve left the field.”
He referred back to how he had made “10 nutcutter correct calls” in the 2001 World Series Game 3, but those are now “wiped out, forgotten with just one big miss. Fair? Not really. Inevitable? Unfortunately yes .. All of us know it’s part of the package when we sign up for this.”
That off season, three key umps – Marty Springstead, Rich Garcia and Jim McKean – were fired by MLB.
“We didn’t see it coming and we were not happy,” Scott explains. “It felt the moves were made out of spite.”
An MLB Facebook post in June, 2021.
Scott doesn’t mince words when he comes to how he felt about Jimmie Lee Solomon, the executive vice president of baseball operations, who made the decision, or the explanation by Rob Manfred, then the vice president of labor relations and human resources.
Just like an historic kiss, you can’t just give lip service to something or someone you feel has been wronged.
If we were going to Friday’s Dodgers-Mets game – or happened to be in his hometown of Portland when he and Neyer will appear at world-famous Powell’s for a signing on June 8 — we’d want to let him know how much we appreciated the education and entertainment, context and comedy, and true human feelings spread out along the way. Nothing sugar coated or trivialized. The importance of the umpire and how they feel about what they do needs to be told better, like this.
A late May blurb about the book in this New York Times roundup: “It’s a rare victory for the blue.” Agreed.
We’re also curiously appreciative of an appendix that includes five pages of every person he’s ejected in his career — his first in the MLB was the Angels’ Doug DeCinces in 1986 for arguing a called third strike. Plus a list of every umpire he’s ever worked with (partnered with Derryl Cousins and Joe Brinkman the most — 2,123 times, and interesting to see how he was with Augie Donatelli and Jocko Conlan more than 1,000 times, and Joe West just once).
What’s your book about? Eighty percent great baseball stories from a fascinating baseball guy, 20 percent a story nobody’s read before from a great person. Why this book? Why now? I got lucky, because Dale Scott’s story is just as unique now as it was seven years ago when he first took the field as an “out” MLB umpire. He’s still the only one who’s done that! In that respect his story remains as relevant now as then, especially considering that there is not a single out player in affiliated professional baseball, which remains both disheartening and inscrutable. Who had the biggest influence on this book? To some degree, the book simply continues a long lineage of umpire memoirs, all of which I’ve read (I think). At least subconsciously, all those books influenced my work. Also subconsciously, I hope a bit of Ed Linn rubbed off on me. His books with Bill Veeck and Leo Durocher are so great because you don’t feel you’re reading an Ed Linn book; you feel you’re hearing the voices of Veeck and Durocher, even though of course Linn must have done a great deal of work to shape not only the narratives, but the voices as well. If you’re reading Dale’s book and you suddenly think, “Oh, Rob must have written that” … then I’ve failed, at least in that particular spot. Whatever talent and work I might bring to this book, they should always be in service of Dale’s story and his voice.
== Scott talks to the MLB Network’s Hot Stove League crew with Matt Vasgersian and Harold Reynolds:
== An excerpt of the book published on Outsports.com focuses on a night in the late ‘90s when he joined other umpires at a bar in Tempe, Ariz., during spring training:
One of those nights, Derryl Cousins and I were sitting at a table off to the side. Out of the blue, Derryl said: “Scotty, I know you have a different lifestyle than most of us. I just want you to know I think you’re a great guy, and I would walk on the field with you any day. So it’s not an issue.”
Now my full defense mechanisms fired up immediately. For one thing, I’ve got no idea why this came up. So I just said, “I appreciate that, Derryl.” But I didn’t really admit to anything; I just took the compliment and moved on to something else. Later that spring, Rick Reed did the same thing, and I responded the same way, not really responding.
But if those guys knew? It seemed likely that just about everyone else did too.
In my first full season as a chief, in 2002, my crew was Jimmy Joyce, Jeff Nelson, and Ron Kulpa. But we all had single weeks off during the first month of the season. So our first game on the field together, as a complete crew, wasn’t until May 7. And our first opportunity for a crew dinner was May 18 in San Francisco. After our Saturday afternoon game, we went to Morton’s, one of our favorite hangouts.
After we’d ordered and the wine had been poured, Kulpa pipes up, “Okay, chief. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. Dale, we know you’re gay. We don’t care. We want to be able to joke and bust balls this season without walking on eggshells.”
At that, Jimmy grabbed the wine bottle and tipped it up, making it look like he was guzzling it, while I’m pretty sure Jeff did a spit take across the table. I froze for a second and then smiled, not too surprised Ron would make a statement like that, since he basically has no filter.
I was actually happy about Ron putting it out there.
Dale Scott (left) and Michael Rausch (right) flank Palm Springs Mayor Steve Poughnet, who officiated their marriage in November 2013. (Photos courtesy of Dale Scott)
Dan Good already knew the good, the bad and the tragic as it related to the late Ken Caminti.
When Caminiti died in October of 2004 of a drug overdoes at 41, three years after he was out of the game and a mess of a man, Good was a journalism student at Penn State. The death affected him deeply for some reason.
“I wondered what was stopping me from writing it myself, and I began deeply researching his life — I was working the graveyard shift at the time and my days were wide open. I started interviewing people in 2013 and kept at it over the years, continuing to chip away at the project and track people down. All told, I ended up interviewing 400 people.”
Ken Caminiti’s disclosure was bigger than sports. It was a national news story, a black eye for the national pastime. https://t.co/o1eOQh2gpn
One of them was Tom Verducci, who did the original 2002 Sports Illustrated cover story, “Steroids in baseball: Confessions of an MVP” that used Caminiti’s honest account as a springboard to its investigation.
There was a followup in 2012 titled: “Ten Years Later: To Cheat or Not to Cheat: A decade after Ken Caminiti helped pull baseball’s steroid problem out of the shadows, those who chased the big league dream in a dirty era still wrestle with how they dealt with the dilemma of a generation.”
Another subject was Caminiti’s steroid distributor. He talked to those who went into rehab with Caminiti. He talked to those who knew him way back when, and in the last days.
Good’s grief — and long, difficult excavation — has finally resulted in the publication of his project.
“I’m certainly biased, but I believe Ken Caminiti’s story is the most important in baseball over the past quarter-century because it touches on so many themes, from the will to be great and our societal views on addiction, to trauma and the moral ambiguities around performance-enhancing drugs in baseball during the 1990s,” Good also writes in that post. “Ken’s life had a deep impact, one that went far beyond the things he put into his body or the manner in which he died. And for me, after a decade of work and hundreds of interviews, his good heart continues to shine through.”
Let’s put it this way: Some books you can’t put down. They might be best finished cover-to-cover in one sitting. Then there are these. You need to nudge yourself into starting it, and remind yourself it’s OK to set aside for a moment. Re-read to make sure it’s clear. Give it another rest.
And don’t do it before you go to bed. You’ll be too restless. You won’t sleep well.
Any time you manage to cram the word “kerfulffle” into a website headline of questionable credibility, more word power to you.
As in: “Paul O’Neill’s strange broadcast season continues with WFAN kerfuffle,” on an aggregation-powered website called ESNY, which stands for Elite Sports NY, with the assumption you know what “NY” stands for.
== O’Neill is 18 seasons in as an analyst on the Yankees’ YES Network, which is one more year than his entire MLB career that ran from 1985 to 2001.
From April 2022: Paul O’Neill, right, from his home in Ohio as part of the Yankees-Blue Jays broadcast with David Cone and Michael Kay, left and center, who were at Yankee Stadium. (New York Post screengrab via YES Network)
Is he actually doing games these days in the YES broadcast booth? No. He remains unvaccinated. In 2020, he did games from the basement of his home in Ohio, which they refer to as “Studio 21.” O’Neill is back there this season. Per company policy.
(Also note: This sadly seems to not be all that unusual. Al Leiter and John Smoltz ares no longer on MLB Network after a vaccination policy took effect last fall. Smoltz remains Fox Sports’ No. 1 analyst with new partner Joe Davis, but Davis is already used to this new protocol of where Smoltz is allowed to be in the broadcast booth, but not go into the restricted areas, which means he will have to converse with players, managers and coaches over Zoom. The same applies to Orel Hershiser on SportsNet LA home broadcasts).
O’Neill, perhaps wisely, didn’t want any part of that discussion. So he wasn’t brought on the air. Tierney told the listening audience exactly why that happened.
Writer James Kratch finishes the story:
“Tierney is absolutely correct. He cannot let O’Neill hawk his book without asking him about the biggest story around the team. O’Neill (and his PR handlers) should know better as well. He was going to get maybe two questions on the matter. Answer them and move on. “As for the YES broadcasts: If O’Neill doesn’t want to get vaccinated, that’s his call. But let’s not forget all the bellyaching there was last year about the Yankees broadcast teams not being at road games. And rightfully so. Audacy and YES deserved to get raked over the coals for their cheapness. This isn’t a minor league team in Topeka; these are the New York Yankees. “That is why it is baffling how it’s suddenly acceptable for O’Neill to call the games from his basement. It’s not like YES is hurting for bodies to put into the booth. And while O’Neill is a good broadcaster, he’s not Vin Scully here.”
Again, any time you manage to deftly insert the name “Vin Scully” into a copy block, even more word power to you.
So, back up: Paul O’Neill wrote a book. Sure, OK. He did one before, something about him and his dad maybe 20 years ago. Now we’re supposed to, what, buy this one, read it and ponder the wisdom it imparts? Because … ?
Because, he’ll forever be known as a Yankee Great, with a capital “Why” and an understated “Gee.”
Nine of his 17 seasons as an MLB right fielder/DH came with the Yankees, and you’d be incorrect to assume that, in 1992, he willingly left his hometown Cincinnati Reds to see a huge free-agent deal with New York, because he was actually part of a non-blockbuster trade (with a minor league teammate thrown in) to the Yankees in exchange for Roberto Kelly.
So 1,426 of his 2,105 total hits came in New York, as did 185 of his 281 home runs and 858 of his 1,269 RBIs. So did four of his five All-Star game selections, and five of his six World Series appearances (a combined .261 batting average, 0 HRs, 7 RBIs in 27 games and 109 at bats). All that somehow earned him a place in the Yankees’ Monument Park, with his nickname “The Warrior” emblazoned at the top, recognizing his intensity and leadership, and “his relentless pursuit of perfection.” Is also notes his 1994 batting title, without the asterisk that his .359 post came in 103 games and just 443 at bats during the strike-shortened season, but … it still counts, two points higher than Cleveland’s Albert Belle.
O’Neill’s 162-game season average would pencil out as a reliable 22 homer, 100 RBI season with a .288 average. His JAWS for a right fielder is 65th in MLB history at 33.2. Compare him to Bernie Williams, Matt Holliday, Bobby Bonilla or Shawn Green – except playing in New York on all those playoff teams makes your resume look far more glossier.
His YES broadcasting bio also notes: From July 23, 1995 until May 7, 1997, O’Neill played 235 games in right field without making an error. In 1997, he led the American League in hitting with men on base with a .429 average. On Aug. 25, 2001, O’Neill became the oldest major leaguer to steal 20 bases and hit 20 home runs in the same season. He was inducted into the New York State Baseball Hall of Fame in November 2017. In 2008, O’Neill was named “Father of the Year” by The National Father’s Day Council at its 67th Annual Father of the Year awards dinner in New York.
So, listen up: He’s a winner, not a wiener. And you’re still in the media of NY spotlight, so you’re entitled to impart whatever you can be paid for.
Tom Hoffarth's The Drill: More Farther Off the Wall 