Danny Darwin 1992 Fleer

Sometime in September 2021 I received this card from the Baseball Card Bandit (BCB):

 

 

 

 

Danny Darwin's nickname was "Dr. Death" for some reason. It probably had to do with one of his pitches, probably an off-speed cutter or something, but it always seemed like a weird name for him.

Danny Darwin was born in Bonham, TX and looked like he was born in Bonham, TX. He was tall, gangly and had a droopy mustache that perfectly contoured to his long face. If he was in a western movie, they'd nick name him "Slim" (he is listed at 6'3" and 185 pounds) and he'd probably end up getting shot in a bar fight during the first 20 minutes. 

Darwin pitched--are you ready for this, because this is legit surprising--21 seasons in the majors. Even though he looked like he should have spent his entire career with the Rangers or the Astros (he spent eight and six years with each club respectively) he ended up playing for eight teams. 

If you played for 21 years you would at least think that you'd get some sort of team or individual honor in one of those seasons, right? Wrong. Darwin was never on a World Series team nor was he ever an All-Star. What's even more insane is that according to baseball-reference.com, Darwin NEVER, as in not once, ever appeared in post season play. Not once. 

You hear about a person like Derek Jeter who played 19 seasons (not including 1995 when he played 15 regular season games) and was an October participant in 16 of those seasons, and even the reddest of Red Sox fans can appreciate that number. That's a lot. Darwin does him better, only the opposite. Twenty-one years, no October baseball. At all. 

I don't know how he feels about this dubious distinction, but I am completely blown away. That's a lot of shitty baseball that he watched. Day-in and day-out, trudging to work knowing that your team stinks. That has to take a toll on a man's psyche. 

Maybe that's why they called him Dr. Death? Because every team he was on was death. 

In Darwin's defense, he probably wasn't the problem. He never won more than 15 games in a season and he didn't strike out a ton of people, but he didn't walk a lot either, his WHIP was pretty decent (he lead the league twice, once in Houston--which considering he pitched half his games in the cavernous Astrodome seems about right--and once in Boston--which considering he pitched half his games in the bandbox that is Fenway Park seems about wrong) and he lead the league in ERA. 

The year that he lead the league in ERA and WHIP was 1990, which like I said was done in the ultimate pitcher's park, the Astrodome. So of course Lou Gorman signs* him to a crazy four-year deal for big money. For the Sox he was fine. His first year, it looks like he was hurt--he only appeared in 15 games. The second year he operated out of the bullpen, which I'm sure people were going  nuts about "We gave $3 million bucks to a long relievah! Tha fuck?". The third year, he pitched well as a starter (this was when he lead the AL in WHIP)  and the fourth year, he was fine again. 

* This was Lou Gorman's post 1990 shopping frenzy when like in a day, he signed Darwin, a pretty close to past his prime Jack Clark and a pretty sucky Matt Young to big deals. None of them made the impact that Sweet Lou thought that they were.

BTW, Gorman signing Darwin after he had an amazing year in the Astrodome should have been a harbinger of things to come when nine months later he sends New Britain third baseman Jeff Bagwell to the same Astros. Why did Gorman do that? Because he couldn't understand park effects--the Beehive in New Britain was a huge place where hitters "lost" power and pitchers pitched "awesome". It was kinda like a minor league version of the Astrodome and proved that Lou didn't understand park effects very well.

All-in-all Darwin was a meh signing at best. He wasn't going to win you a ton of games and he wasn't a star that was going to get the masses excited either. He was third/fourth starter who could give you innings out of the bullpen. There are a million dudes who can do that. No need to pay them a ton of cash to do that. Maybe throw the whole wad at Kirby Puckett--who the Sox were rumored to be going hard for that offseason. 

After Darwin left the Fens, he bounced around for the rest of his career, a half season in Toronto, back to Texas then to Pittsburgh back to Houston over to the White Sox before finishing up with the Giants. 

According to Wikipedia*, it was with the Giants that he got into a few scuffles. According to Orel Hershiser, when they were teammates there was a benches clearing brawl and Darwin popped Hershiser (who was his teammate, remember) in the face. Orel claims it was because he hit him once when they were facing each other back in the day. Which, take it easy Slim. Shit happens. 

* How great is it that every MLB player has their own Wiki page? What an age we live in!

The second Giant incident occurred when teammate Barry Bonds lollygagged after a ball. Darwin was furious because that lackadaisical play allowed a run to score. I'm sure that Bonds was super apologetic and vowed that it wouldn't do again. 

Darwin has spent his post-retirement years as a minor league pitching coach--except for a few months when he got  the call to the Show when the normal Cincinnati Reds pitching coach needed a replacement. I don't think that team made it to the postseason either. 

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.