See Ya, Big Papi

Earlier this week, the Boston Red Sox lost game three of a best-of-five series against the Cleveland Indians.  This game was important in two ways, the first being that it was the third win for the Indians, meaning that they advanced to the next round of the playoffs against Toronto.

Equally important, of course, is that it constituted the end of the career of Boston's designated hitter for the last 14 seasons, David Ortiz.  Known as "Big Papi" to the league and to baseball fans, Ortiz had announced before the season began that, at 40 years old and with numerous aches and pains from his long career, this would be it for him and he would retire at season's end.

Ortiz then went on to have a season at the plate that 40-year-old players have never had.  Aches and pains aside, and preparation aside, he homered 38 times.  More importantly as far as offensive production, he got on base over 40% of his times to the plate, and slugged .620 -- the latter meaning that on average, for every hundred at-bats his hits alone were worth an amazing 62 bases.

Now, it's important to note that he led both leagues in each of those two statistical measures, and it wasn't all that close.  It is more important to note that those were not two cherry-picked numbers taken to find something that Ortiz led the majors in.  These were, as I had mentioned in an earlier piece, the two individual offensive metrics most correlated with team run production.

In other words, not a single player in the major leagues produced more offensive contribution to his team than a 40-year-old designated hitter with creaky knees and bad feet.

And a rather coarse mouth.

Big Papi will be remembered for a lot of things, including some really important hits at some really important times, and being a pivotal part of the 2004 championship team that broke the fabled "Curse of the Bambino."  But he will equally be remembered for his impassioned speech at Fenway Park in the first game back after the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing.

You've heard it; we all have.  After telling the fans that Boston the team, and Boston the city, would not be bowed by Islamist terrorists (OK, he didn't use those words, but I will), he finished by declaring "This is our #$%%&$% city!".  No, he didn't speak typographical symbols.

It says a lot about what we, as a nation, felt about Ortiz that he took almost no flak for using a really bad word in the middle of a speech to 38,000 people there (many of them kids) and millions on TV (many of them kids).  I mean, I do not use that word or any of its other forms, ever.  I would be happy if I never heard it again.  But Papi, well, I guess we all gave him a pass.

We all, at least we who are Red Sox fans (but a lot of others) would have liked to have seen Ortiz make it to the World Series in this, his last season.  Then again, there are fans of the Indians (no World Series championships since 1948) and Cubs (none since 1908), both still in the playoffs, that would argue that they're even more deserving of having their wishes met.  That's fine.  If both manage to get to the Series, some city is going to have a heck of a party at the end.

David Ortiz may or may not make it to the Hall of Fame.  Suspicions about whether he might have used banned substances, the kind of thing that has kept Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens from the Hall, have existed since a piece was published regarding the 2003 testing that was done by Major League Baseball to see if there was a sufficient problem (they decided that there was, based on a total number of positive tests as a percentage of all tests).

That unconfirmed report named over 100 players by name; however, the number of players named exceeded the number of actual positive tests reported, so obviously there were players named who had not tested positive.  Moreover, after the ban was subsequently put in, Ortiz, who was named in the report, never tested positive one time.  And unlike other players, Ortiz was able to accumulate 13 years of clean testing to bounce his best years against.

I believe that in five years, or not too long thereafter, Ortiz will indeed make it to the Hall of Fame.  He certainly had a career worthy, and from the "Fame" part of the equation, well, it would be hard to argue.  David Ortiz led not only his team but his city, including through a terrible time in its history.  He was a memorable player and a memorable character.

Ortiz is not ever going to be thought of as the greatest Latino player to play for the Red Sox; Ted Williams preceded him and no one is going to try to make Ortiz out as a better Latino player than Ted Williams.  But Papi is in our immediate memory, and it is a reasonable thing to celebrate his career and his legacy.

We will miss him.  Another Big Papi is not coming along anytime soon.

Copyright 2016 by Robert Sutton
Like what you read here?  There's a new post from Bob at www.uberthoughtsUSA.com at 10am Eastern time, every weekday, giving new meaning to "prolific essayist."  Sponsorship and interview inquiries cheerfully welcomed at bsutton@alum.mit.edu or on Twitter at @rmosutton.