Daryl Irvine 1992 Fleer

Sometime in the last two or three months, I received this card from the Baseball Card Bandit (BCB):

 

 

 

I don’t recall anything about Daryl Irvine’s days in Boston. According to the back of this card, Daryl was “one of the top closers in the minor leagues [and] will try to graduate to the big leagues in 1992.” He played three years in the Bigs (1990, 1991 and 1992) and was the exact opposite of what you want in a closer.

 

In 63.1 career innings, Irvine gave up 71 hits, 33 walks and only struck out 27 batters. Not surprisingly, his ERA was astronomical: 5.68; so not only did he put runners on base, but he let them score too. No matter how good he was in the minors—not good, actually he pretty much had the same kind of issues down there—he wasn’t going to close for anyone unless he missed some bats.

 

When I wrote about Dana Kiecker a few weeks back, we talked about that 1990 team and Irvine was a part of that team, he pitched in 11 games. But the other two years he pitched, the Red Sox weren’t great. They had their moments in 1991, but in 92 the Red Sox were so bad. Tom Brunansky led the team with 15 home runs. Bob Zupcic led the team in batting average: .276, over Wade Boggs who managed to hit .259!

 

The team finished with 73 wins, but if you look at their roster, they should have been able to put something together: Boggs, Mo Vaughn, JodyReed, Tony Pena, John Valentin, Ellis Burks, Mike Greenwell (the latter two were apparently hurt) plus Brunansky. Add in older dudes like Billy Hatcher, Jack Clark plus young kids like Phil Plantier, Scott Cooper and Tim Naehring and I mean, they could have been league average or better, if they hit.

 

The pitching was kind of a mess with solid years from RogerClemens and Frank Viola heading the rotation and Jeff Reardon closing, but everything after that was a complete disaster. Plus they had Butch Hobson managing, who was clearly way, way over his head.

 

Fun fact: 1992 was the only year since 1986 that I haven’t seen a game live at Fenway. I’m not sure why, but I decided to sit this year out; which is odd because I’ve seen some really shitty Red Sox teams play baseball. I wish that I saw the Sox play at least one game that season because it’s easier to say, “I’ve been to Fenway for 37 straight years” instead of “I’ve been to Fenway for 37 straight years, except for 1992. So I guess I’ve only been to the park for 30 straight years.”

 

That’s right, if I had a time machine, I wouldn’t go back and kill baby Hitler; I’d go back and watch the 1992 Red Sox in Fenway Park so that uninteresting personal anecdotes would be easier for me to relay.

 

Anyway Boston was apparently unimpressed with righthander and Irvine was sent to the Pittsburgh Pirates after the 1992 season. This was year one of the Pirates annual depths-of-the-division league tour that they’ve been perpetually on since Barry Bonds took his talents to San Francisco. Andy Van Slyke was still there, as was Jay Bell and Jeff King but other than future Red Sox Tim Wakefield and Stan Belinda, the staff was a complete and total disaster. Irvine should have been used to the chaos.

 

Ultimately it didn’t matter as Irvine was never able to put his chaotic team experience to good use as he never got a call up to Pittsburgh. Through the very perfunctory research that I’ve done, I can’t tell when he retired, but I bet it was pretty soon after that. According to Wikipedia, he lives in Harrisonburg, VA.

 

What does Daryl Irvine do all day? I’m not sure, but the way that his baseball career went, I’d be surprised if he thought about his days in the Major Leagues. I prefer to think about how he was drafted by the Red Sox three times over a couple of drafts—I guess the Sox liked him very much at one point. He probably thinks of his dominance in high school and college and how at one point everyone he knew wanted to be Daryl Irvine.

 

I think that’s what I’d think about as I’m relaxing on my porch in Harrisonburg, VA. I wouldn’t be thinking about the boring-ass drive from Pawtucket to Boston, sitting around in a cramped, sweaty bullpen waiting to get my brains beat in. That’s for god damn sure.

 

Maybe I’d show some neighborhood kids my baseball card if they asked, but I’d say, “that was a long time ago” and dramatically stare off into the distance. That wistful drama is almost cooler than having a lot of success at the Major League level. 

 

Almost. 

Tom Bolton 1989 Topps

On December 7, 2018 I received this card from the Baseball Card Bandit (BCB):

On Facebook, I wrote: New BCB came on Tuesday all the way from the last place the Red Sox played this year, La La Land. 

2019 Notes: In pictures, Tom Bolton always looked nervous to me. Like he somehow conned his way on to the Red Sox and was about to get found out. He never looked relaxed or confident. I will say that the coolest thing about this card is the giant Ferris wheel in the background. You don't see too many Ferris wheels in the background of baseball cards. I don't think that this shot was taken at Winter Haven, so I wonder where it was snapped? 

BTW, back in the day in the background of a lot of Red Sox Spring Training shots there was this gigantic orange dome. I can't remember what its purpose was, but I always imagined that there was some weird orange growing expo happening in there. Like a bunch of Floridians gathered every day to sell their wares beneath the orange dome. "Grab a tasty orange before you watch the game," they'd yell. 

I wish that I had a picture of it. But I don't. 

This entry is about a very forgettable pitcher that toiled for the Sox, Reds, Tigers and Orioles: Tom Bolton. You may not remember Bolton because,quite frankly, he wasn’t very good. And he wasn’t a member of any special teams (someone had to win the AL East and be roadkill for the A’s in the late 80s/early 90s ALCS) that make deities out of the most ordinary players. 

Over eight seasons, Bolton did his job to the best of his ability and more often than not got his head kicked in, his career ERA was 4.56. But there were also games that he pitched well and gave his team a fighting chance. In 1990 he actually pulled it all together for one year going 10-5 with a 3.38 ERA. 

Bolton was traded straight up to Cincinnati for a month long Boston hero (and former World Series MVP and superball supporter) Billy Hatcher. Hatcher stole home in his first couple of games as a Sox and fans acted as if the team won the World Series and got Rickey Henderson at the same time—it was a dark time in the Nation. 

But Bolton and other players like him play an important part in the fabric of all sports. Bolton’s best season was a pretty good first half for teammate and superstar Roger Clemens. I know that using wins and losses to determine a pitcher’s usefulness is primitive and gauche, but I’m making a point here. 

Superstars need the Boltons of the world to make them look good, to make them seem otherworldly. Put it this way, if you faced Tom Bolton in high school, he’d have been the best pitcher you were ever going to face. By a mile. You’d talk about him over beers with your buddies forever. In the majors, he’s just another guy. Less than that, he’s about average (on a very good day). 

The star pitchers of his day, Clemens, Nolan Ryan, Dwight Gooden, Orel Hershiser made it look effortless. And sometimes I don’t think that we all appreciate that, especially in the moment. We like our stars to sweat a bit. But here comes Tom Bolton, beating the odds, making the majors, working his ass off, hanging around for almost a decade and the best he could do was a sub 3.50 ERA and five games over .500. 

That’s something. But it’s also not much of anything. 

To be honest Bolton is more relatable to most of us but at the same time, he’s also more forgettable. That says something about the Everyman. We say we appreciate them but we really don’t. 

But they have their parts to play. 

No. We can’t all be superstars at the highest level. Sometimes our lot in life is to make the truly special shine brighter. Through his inadequacies on the mound, Bolton was able to do that exceptionally.

2019: I don't have a heck of a lot to add to this entry. Tom Bolton was just a dude. A very talented dude in the grand scheme of things, but just a regular dude in his world. I recall reading an interview with a player who said (and I'm paraphrasing here), "the Majors are great for superstars. For the rest of us, it's agony because we're always thinking that we're about to be replaced."

The thought behind that is that whether they get traded or released or benched or sent to the minors, unless you're a superstar (and there are few true superstars), you're job is always in jeopardy. You can't relax, you're always looking over your shoulder. Your boss is telling everyone that he can replace you with someone younger, cheaper and in some cases better. If the job you're in right now was like that, how would you perform?

Yes, the money is better. But for the majority of ballplayers, it's not life changing. And many never reach that pinnacle where they get a ton of money to play ball.

With this much pressure on you, I would think that it would be difficult to do well. But Bolton did pretty well for himself. As good as he wanted to? Probably not. I am sure that when he viewed himself, he saw himself as Roger Clemens with a mustache. But reality is different. So he dealt with his reality and did the best that he possibly could. 

And that will just have to do. 

Billy Hatcher 1992 Upper Deck

On May 31, 2017 I received this card from the Baseball Card Bandit (BCB):

On Facebook I wrote: Hey, the BCB sent me another card last week and this time it's from Atlanta. (John Manasso? Christie Tuccillo Manasso?)

2019 Notes: I'm naming checking my brother and sister-in-law here who live in a suburb right outside of Atlanta. It's a great place to visit and honestly, I wouldn't mind living there. 

It's old friend Billy Hatcher! You may remember Hatcher as the guy who, when with Houston, hit a ball and his bat exploded with super balls. Or you may recall that he was on fire in the 1990 World Series as Cincinnati beat the heavily favored A's in five games. 

Or you might recall him as a spark plug for some truly awful Red Sox teams pre-Dan Duquette. In one of his first games in Boston, he stole home and people around here reacted as if he broke Hank Aaron's record while at the same time, cured cancer. 

It was a cool thing but man, we were desperate for something interesting from our baseball team. Congratulations Billy Hatcher, for a very short time you peed Dos Equis. You were the most interesting man on the Red Sox.

2019: After 1990, the Red Sox got very bad and very boring. I remember that it seemed if every acquisition was going to be the one that made Boston relevant again. Herm Winningham, Mike Marshall, Billy Hatcher, Danny Heep, Tom Brunansky. These were the hitters that were going to bring the Sox back from the dead and have them compete with the Torontos, the Oaklands, the Minnesotas. 

Not only that, but they were going to bring home the trophy and teach the kids a thing or two about playing hard and professionalism. It didn't happen. It never happened. 

Hatcher was a bit of tease though, because he did play really well his first two weeks in red socks. I mentioned that he stole home (which really was a big deal and was one of four that he had with the Sox that season) and he hit pretty well. At least I remember him hitting well, his final slash in 1992 was 238/283/311 and that's not very good. 

Even when the Sox stunk and slid back to last a few years ago, they were never boring. Or at least not as boring as they were in the early 90s. That's an era I hope that they never return to.