Vic Davalillo–Topps Company–1973

Little Vic Davalillo was one of my favorite players from my early years as a fan. Why did I like Davalillo so much? First, you have to love the name, pronounced DAV-AH-LEE-YO, which flows through the vocal chords. Then there is Davalillo’s Latin American heritage; as someone who is half-Puerto Rican, I’ve always felt special kinship with Latino ballplayers. And then there is Davalillo’s stature as a player; he was never quite the star that some predicted he would be, but he had a fine career as a role player and bench player. I’ve always liked such “supporting cast” type of players, in part because they have had to work so hard to overcome their everyman struggles, either to remain in the lineup or to merely stay on a major league roster. In Davalillo’s case, he regularly had to overcome the preconceived notion that someone five-feet, seven-inches tall couldn’t play the outfield or hit well enough to stay in the big leagues.

In 1965, Davalillo made the All-Star team while patrolling center field for the Indians. His newfound All-Star status, coupled with the Gold Glove he won in 1964, led some scouts to predict stardom for the native Venezuelan. Stardom never materialized, but Davalillo didn’t exactly flop either. During the first half of his career, he established himself as a fine defensive outfielder with a strong arm. And then in the second half, when his throwing arm became a liability due to injury, he became a smarter and more effective hitter, both in a platoon role and as one of the game’s great pinch-hitters. In 1970, Davalillo collected a league-leading 24 pinch-hits for the Cardinals, making him one of the game’s most dangerous clutch hitters in the late innings.

In 1971, Davalillo became a huge component of the Pirates’ World Championship run. Arguably the Pirates’ best bench player in 1971, Davalillo emerged as an effective backup to Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell, giving the two Hall of Famers an occasional breather in the corners of the outfield. In 1972, Davalillo enjoyed an even more productive season–arguably the best of his career.  Although Davalillo started the season on the bench, he moved into the lineup when manager Bill Virdon decided to shift Willie Stargell from the outfield to first base. Davalillo became the Pirates’ regular left fielder against right-handed pitching, batted .318 in 368 at-bats, and swiped 14 bases. 

After a slow start in 1973, the Pirates sold Davalillo to the A’s, who were looking for a competent left-handed bat to use as a pinch-hitter and designated hitter.  Davalillo batted only .188 in 64 regular season at-bats for the A’s, but played a key role in the American League Championship Series against the Orioles. In the decisive fifth game, Davalillo delivered a key RBI triple against Baltimore starter Doyle Alexander, helping the A’s to a clinching 3-0 victory.  Davalillo also took part in Oakland’s World Series victory over the Mets.

In 1974, Davalillo batted only .174 through Oakland’s first 21 games, when the A’s decided to give him his unconditional release.  Davalillo had long since gained a reputation for excessive drinking, which combined with his age and lack of hitting, led many to believe that his career had ended.

Fortunately, the pesky veteran hitter decided to continue his career in the Mexican League. Playing for Cordoba and Puebla, Davalillo batted .329 or better in each of his first three seasons south of the border.  In 1977, Davalillo was leading the Mexican League in hitting with a sizzling .384 batting mark. Dodgers superscout Charlie Metro spotted Davalillo and recommended that general manager Al Campanis sign the veteran left-handed hitter for the stretch run.  “I saw him in 20 official at-bats and he got nine hits,” Metro recalled. “But what really sold me was that in those 20 at-bats–and every single time I saw him take batting practice–he never once failed to hit the ball when he swung at it.”

Davalillo justified Metro’s scouting report by batting .313 for the Dodgers in 48 late season at-bats.  Davalillo’s most memorable moment as a Dodger occurred in Game Three of the National League Championship Series against the Phillies. Davalillo laid down a surprise two-out bunt single that spearheaded a three-run comeback in the ninth inning.  Davalillo’s bunt, perhaps the most important hit of his long career, served as the turning point of momentum in the playoff series.  Spearheaded by Davalillo’s timely bunt, the Dodgers went on to beat the Phillies. 

Davalillo’s major league career finally came to an end in 1980. He concluded a vagabond but productive career with a .279 batting average, 125 stolen bases, one All-Star Game berth, a single-season pinch-hitting record, World Series appearances with three different teams, and two championship rings. Never a star, he became a journeyman, a term that some unfairly treat with derision, but one that Davalillo made all the more respectable. 

Jose Cardenal–Topps Company–1973

“Bunt the ball, Jose,” the Topps cameraman might have yelled to Jose Cardenal as he sought just the right pose for his 1973 baseball card. Cardenal could bunt. Heck, he did seemingly everything well on the playing field, but ended up settling for a vagabond career that saw him cover the map of the United States over a span of nearly two decades.

A journeyman outfielder who broke into the big leagues in the 1960s, Cardenal came up through the San Francisco Giants’ system as a coveted prospect with five-tool talents. Scouts loved Cardenal’s speed, arm strength, and developing power. Sadly, the Giants did a poor job in evaluating their young players and prospects and didn’t always handle their Latino players fairly at the time; along those lines, they traded Cardenal to the Angels for fringe back-up catcher Jack Hiatt. The trade to the American League gave Cardenal a chance to play games head-to-head against his cousin, Kansas City A’s shortstop Bert “Campy” Campaneris. (In a rather remarkable coincidence, Cardenal became the first batter to step in against his cousin when Campy moved to the mound as part of Charlie Finley’s nine-positions-in-a-day stunt in 1965.) Showing promise in his first two seasons with the Angels, Cardenal then flopped in his third year, prompting a trade to the Cleveland Indians for utilityman Chuck Hinton. Cardenal played two seasons by the lake before packing his bags again; this time, the Indians traded him back to the National League, more specifically to the Cardinals.

The Cardinals, playing half of their games on the expansive artificial turf of Busch Stadium, seemed like an ideal fit for a fast flychaser like Cardenal. (He also became “Cardenal the Cardinal,” creating all sorts of marketing possibilities.) With Cardenal in center and Lou Brock in left field, the Cardinals featured speed galore in the outfield. Yet, the marriage between Cardenal and the Cardinals didn’t last. After a season and a half, the Redbirds dealt Cardenal to Milwaukee in a midsummer trade. It would not be until his next stop that Cardenal would find some long-term stability. After the 1971 season, the Cubs packaged right-hander Jim Colborn with two lesser players and sent them to the Brewers for Cardenal. Grouping him with Billy Williams (left field) and Rick Monday (center field), the Cubs formulated one of their best outfields in years, consisting of a Hall of Famer (Williams) and two players with the speed to cover center field (Cardenal and Monday). Cardenal, who would remain a fixture in front of the Wrigley Field ivy for six seasons, had finally found a home. (It would also be during his days in Chicago that Cardenal would develop his trademark king-sized Afro.)

Then came Cardenal’s decline phase. With the Cubs realizing that the 33-year-old Cardenal could no longer play every day, they traded him to the Phillies after the 1977 season. He struggled as a bench player with Philly, found himself traded to the Mets in the middle of a doubleheader, and endured two more half-seasons of utility play with the lowly Mets before enjoying a last hurrah with the 1980 Royals. Signed off the waiver wire in late August, Cardenal batted .340 in 53 at-bats and then delivered a pinch-hit in the ninth inning of Game Six of the World Series. Even though his hit against Tug McGraw ultimately didn’t matter in the Royals’ loss, it did allow Cardenal to leave his major league career on the high note of a World Series single.

So why did Cardenal, a solid ballplayer who hit for a decent average, stole bases aggressively, and played all three outfield positions to a capable level, find himself suiting up in nine different uniforms over a journeyman 18-year career? Two factors may have been at work. First, Cardenal didn’t hit with the kind of power that he had flashed as a prospect in the Giants’ system. Satisfied with spraying the ball from alley to alley, he never hit more than 17 home runs in a single season. Second, Cardenal may have aggravated some of his teams with his behavior, which was either quaint or bizarre, depending on your perspective. Some of his managers considered him moody, though that could have resulted from racial and ethnic misunderstanding. A free spirit with an odd sense of logic, Cardenal did frustrate his managers and front office bosses with his quirks and habits. Some of those habits damaged his reputation, while others were flat-out harmless, but all of them made Cardenal one of a kind:

*Cardenal liked to wear his uniform pants exceedingly tight at a time when most players preferred the baggier look of the late 1960s. According to former Seattle Pilots right-hander Fred Talbot, Cardenal once sat out three straight winter league games because he couldn’t find pants that were tight enough around his legs. And yes, that does sound like something out of a Seinfeld episode.

*As illustrated by Talbot, Cardenal became legendary for concocting strange excuses for an inability to play. In addition to the “tight pants” episode, there were bizarre eye injuries and nighttime distractions created by thoughtless crickets. In 1972, Cardenal claimed that he couldn’t see properly. The reason? He had woken up with his eyelid and his eyelashes stuck to his eyeball. “I woke up and my eye was swollen shut,” Cardenal explained to a reporter without snickering. “My eyelashes were stuck together. I couldn’t see, so I couldn’t play.” On another occasion, Cardenal told Cubs manager Jim Marshall that he couldn’t play in a 1972 spring training game because some particularly loud crickets had kept him up the entire night. Marshall didn’t believe him, but gave the veteran outfielder the day off. When it came to odd excuses not to play, Cardenal was the Chris Brown of the 1970s.

*Unlike many Latino players of his era, Cardenal spoke English well enough to give him a comfort level with reporters. Sometimes, his ability to handle interviews translated into too much irreverence for some people’s liking. When teammate Rick Monday rescued an American flag from two migrant workers in a 1976 game, Cardenal became one of the few players to react with a level of derision. He sarcastically wondered whether Monday would be regarded as much of an American patriot as Lincoln or Washington.

*Cardenal became well known for sporting one of the game’s largest Afros of the 1970s. In fact, other than Oscar Gamble, no one had an Afro the height or girth of Cardenal’s. As a result, Cardenal required caps and helmets that were appreciably larger than his head size–somewhere in the Bruce Bochy/Hideki Matsui range.

*According to Pete Rose (I guess you have to consider the source with this one), Cardenal corked bats blatantly during his days in Philadelphia. Rose says he could plainly hear the “sounds of the drill” in the Phillies’ clubhouse, as Cardenal plied his woodwork to a variety of bats. Rose claimed that he used one of Cardenal’s corked bats in batting practice, but never in an actual game.

In spite of his reputation for offbeat, sometimes daffy behavior, Cardenal went on to enjoy a long career as a coach, gaining respect for his knowledge of baserunning and outfield play. In 1996, Cardenal provided the Yankees, who employed him as their first base and outfield coach, with a key piece of strategy during the World Series. With the Yankees holding onto a 1-0 lead in the ninth inning of Game Five, the Braves threatened to tie the score–and possibly win the game. As Chipper Jones led off third base and Ryan Klesko took his lead at first base, Luis Polonia stepped into the batter’s box against Yankee closer John Wetteland. Moments before the at-bat, Cardenal noticed that Paul O’Neill was out of position in right field. From his perch in the dugout, Cardenal waved frantically at O’Neill, motioning him to move several steps toward right-center field. Surely enough, Polonia then swatted a Wetteland delivery toward the right-field alley, high and far, but short of home run distance. Racing toward the wall, O’Neill finally caught up with the drive, barely snaring it in the webbing of his glove before slapping his hands against the padded wall at Fulton County Stadium.

If Cardenal had not moved O’Neill several feet toward the gap, Polonia’s drive would have eluded him. At the very least, Jones would have scored, tying the game. Although it’s not a certainty, Klesko very possibly would have scored from first, giving the Braves a dramatic come-from-back victory.

And who knows if the Yankees would have even won the 1996 World Series without the sage advice of the man who once claimed that crickets kept him up all night long.