I thought this might be kind of fun.
Ain't no time to write tonight. Too busy plotting how to take Sox tormentors Ted (Sandy Koufax) Lilly and Frank (George Brett) Catalanotto hostage until, oh, October. While I try to accomplish my mission on behalf of The Nation - yeah, better put Reed Johnson on the list, too - here's a silly, simple little quiz to keep you pencil-necks occupied: Try and identify as many of the following players from their late '70s MLB mugshots as possible. Some should be obvious - if you don't recognize young RemDawg (RemPup?), you've obviously stumbled onto the wrong site - while others are even more obscure than the current Kansas City Royals. I've offered a clue beneath each photo; later today I'll add a link to each player's baseball-reference.com page as a way of ID'ing them. Have at it, and I should be back with a real post - you know, with words and sentences and maybe even an actual freakin' point - late tonight/early Saturday.
Okay, here goes . . .
First-ballot TATB Hall of Famer still hold Sox' single-season record for homers by a third baseman; real first name is Clell, middle name Lavern.
. . . his middle name, however, is seven letters, begins with F.
Decent hitter in his day who is actually more gifted at helping others succeed at the plate.
What he might have said in the summer of '78: "You think I can play? Man, you ought to see my oldest son. He's 14 and he's going to be a great one. All the talent in the world. Kinda has a big head, though."
At 5-foot-3-inches, he even had to call Freddie Patek "Big Guy."
Sure, you know who this is. But did you know he was an Oriole for a season?
Says he still hears from Sox fans grateful to him for beating Catfish Hunter and the Yankees on the final day of the '78 regular season, thus forcing the 1-game playoff.
Pedro should have finished him off while he had the chance.
"Dude, where's my mustache? No, seriously, where's my mustache, dude? C'MON, IT WAS JUST ON MY FACE A MINUTE AGO!"
He's TATB's pet cause, a .311 career hitter and a gem of a guy who, sadly, is remembered as little more than a tragic footnote to baseball history.
I went sky divin'/I went Rocky Mountain climbin' . . .
You might not recognize him without his finger in his nostril, but do you think he even admits anymore that he managed the horrendous '77 Mets?
Strangely, there is no mention of his miserably failed attempt at a home perm on his Hall of Fame plaque.
Claims he pitched a no-hitter while under the influence of LSD. Looking at this picture, I tend to believe him.
"And you want fries with that?"
As far as I know, he's the only player in big league history whose first and last names are comprised of the words for four body parts.
The original Boomer, he ate himself out of baseball . . . but he might still be in better shape than the current Boomer.
If he didn't have the coolest name in the big leagues in the '70s . . .
. . . then it was definitely this guy . . .
. . . though come to think of it, his name is pretty damn unforgettable too.
Nicknamed "Cool Breeze," his release by the Expos prompted Bill Lee to break into the general manager's office and protest in some bizarre way, eventually costing him his big-league career as well.
You know, I bet that's the same blank look he gets on his face when Orsillo tries to be funny.