Nick Esasky 1990 Fleer

On September 18, 2017 I received this card from the Baseball Card Bandit (BCB):

On Facebook, I wrote: Postmarked from Los Angeles, CA, the BCB sent the card of one of the more star-crossed players of the last 30 years. 

During the mid-1980s Nick Esasky was a solid player in Cincinnati but he had the misfortune of having Pete Rose as his manager. Rose was in the midst of his death march toward the MLB hit record and Esasky was at Pete's position of first base. By this point in their respective careers, Esasky was worth more to the Reds than Rose but Rose didn't care, he was going to get that record. The only position Pete could play was first (because he was ancient). 

That meant Nick Esasky bounced from third to first to left field and never really settled into a groove. After Rose got his record, the Reds brought in another blast from their past, Tony Perez. Again Esasky bounced around, as Rose thought it was a good idea to split time with his 44-year-old pal Perez at first. A 34-year-old Buddy Bell was at third and Eric Davis and Dave Parker were at the corner outfield positions. Lesson? Pete Rose is an asshole. 

In 1988 he was traded to the Red Sox with Rob Murphy for Todd Benzinger and Jeff Sellers. With a short left-field porch, the following year was a huge one for Esasky as he reached career highs in a lot of hitting categories. After the 1989 season he left Boston and signed with the Braves for big money. He lasted nine games before he was felled by vertigo. 

He never played again. 

Had he stayed in Cinci, he might have been the starting first baseman for the World Champion Reds. By then Rose was gone and Benzinger (he caught the last out of the 1990 World Series) had replaced Esasky at first base, but he did not provide the same offense that his predecessor did. 

Had he been healthy in Atlanta, the Braves probably wouldn't have signed Sid Bream (Esasky was the superior player) and maybe the Braves win the 1991 World Series. (Bream batted .125 that October.) 

And maybe the 1992 NLCS ends up differently too. Maybe it's not Sid Bream chugging around the bases in Game 7, maybe it's Esasky and perhaps he gets thrown out at the plate (though I doubt it because Sid Bream was incredibly slow). But let's say he did, that play sends Barry Bonds and the Pirates to the World Series instead of Atlanta. Perhaps Barry Bonds wins a championship and six years later he doesn't feel the need to take PEDs and he becomes the first unanimous Hall of Famer. 

Nick Esasky is the nexus of baseball realities.

2019 Notes: There isn't a lot to add to this entry, it's one of my favorite ones that I wrote and started the ball rolling on a different kind of BCB entry, where I use the player as a jumping off point for other things that I wanted to write about. 

When I heard that Esasky had vertigo, I was conflicted. On one hand, I felt bad for the guy. The year that he spent in Boston, Esasky seemed like a really good dude and he put up some pretty good numbers. On the other hand, I was pissed that he left the Sox; I mean we traded Todd Benzinger for him! And while I wasn't happy that he got a career-ending illness, I was a bit relieved that didn't happen while he was in Boston. And if I'm being honest, I felt a little twinge of "That's what you get for leaving MY TEAM!"

As a 15-year-old I was a real dick about sports and I actually feel terrible even thinking that back then. Ugh. I was the worst. 

Though I will say that when I read about this happening to Esasky, I thought that the Atlanta Braves were a snake-bit organization and nothing good would ever happen to them. Ever. Then the 1990s kicked in, they won like 15 straight division titles and I was proven wrong. Again. I'm shocked I never worked in professional sports. SHOCKED!

Danny Heep 1990 Fleer

On June 12, 2017 I received this card from the Baseball Card Bandit (BCB):

On Facebook, I wrote: Almost by definition, sports are unfair. But baseball might be the most unfair game of them all. Ted Williams, Yaz, Ernie Banks, Barry Bonds and scores of other Hall of Famers have never stood on the mountaintop as a World Champion. 

2019 Notes: What I mean by sports being unfair is that you can be the absolute best at your game, but you can still have nothing (in terms of championships) to show for it. And baseball seems to be the toughest. Even someone like Barry Bonds only stepped to the plate (at most) four times a game. If his other teammates don't deliver, it doesn't matter. 

And unfortunately, people don't take that into consideration when they talk about all-timers. "Did he win a Championship?" is usually one of the first questions. And it's unfair, I think. 

Danny Heep won two World Series with two different teams in three years. Unless he made his living rescuing babies and nuns from burning buildings in a previous life, karma sucks.

2019: This is sort of a weird analogy. I think that what I was trying to get at was you have to be lucky--not necessarily great--to be on a championship team. And for Heep to be on two in three years is a pretty lucky especially when juxtaposed with his career. Danny Heep played for 13 seasons in the major leagues and he had a skill set, pinch hitter extraordinaire, but he wasn't Williams or Yaz or Banks or Bonds. So what's the explanation for his good fortune? Karmic retribution? I was making a joke, but at the same time, how can you explain luck?

This 1990 Fleer card was sent to me through Tulsa, Oklahoma from the BCB. To me, Danny Heep was an anomaly. When I was a kid I loved when the Sox picked up veteran players I had heard of. By 1989 I had heard of Danny Heep and I was not a fan of this move. At all. 

2019: Not to go all Paul Lukas on you, but I'll tell you what I am a fan of, those Spring Training uniforms that the Sox wore that year. I love the Red Sox over the heart and the v neck; man it's great. I remember when the Sox came out with those uniforms for Spring Training, people were a little pissed (probably not the right word) that they wouldn't train in their every day uniforms any more. Boston is so fucking weird some times. 

The Sox gave him 320 at bats that year (WTF?!?) and he did hit an even .300 but it was hollow. Out of his 113 hits, only 22 were for extra bases (five were homers). That left a lot of singles. He wasn't fast (zero SBs), so he was just a banjo hitting corner outfielder. 

In fairness to Danny Heep, he was the perfect NL player who was adapt at pinch hitting (a monumentally difficult task) but the Red Sox play in the American League and pinch hitters aren't needed as much. He batted .179 the following year in Boston (where he also pitched an inning in relief) before ending his career with the Braves. 

I don't know what Danny Heep does now but if I were him, I'd spend my days polishing my rings and thanking Vishnu that I was part of TWO World Series teams.

2019: Danny Heep is probably a good guy, I don't know him, but he must have been a hell of a pinch hitter to play consistently for 13 seasons. Pinch hitting is hard, I bet. You sit around all game until the manager tells you to grab a bat and hit against the guy that is currently mowing your teammates down. It doesn't sound fun. So I can see why that skill is admired. 

But Danny Heep (you have to write out his full name--it's the law) is nowhere near an American League player and when I was a kid, even I knew that. There's barely any pinch hitting going on this league. And he's not someone that you give 320+ at bats and expect your club to win. When you're 15-years-old and your favorite baseball team signs a guy that you think is not the right move, I guess it sticks with you. I'm not blaming Danny Heep, I'm blaming Lou Gorman. There had to be an outfielder out there with more pop than this guy. Right?

I was also probably a little pissed that the Sox got a guy from the 1986 Mets too. They were supposed to be our rivals! They cut out our hearts! And now we have one of them playing for us? I don't think that I really got sports for a long time. 

Trivia: in 1983 Danny Heep was traded from the Houston Astros to the New York Mets for future Cy Young Award winner and 1986 postseason nemesis Mike Scott (not the dude from "The Office"). I wonder what Danny Heep's life was like in 1986 with people asking him what it was like to be traded for a guy who was completely dominating the league?

I bet if you get traded and the guy you're traded for does really well and you just kind of do your thing, that must not be a lot of fun.