Part 4 - Colombia in a 1968 Volvo Amazon


South America Road-trip in an old-timer

 A summer breeze warms my face as I look out from the old fortified city wall across the skyline of the new part of town. Cartagena de Indias, can you think of a better name for the place where we were to end this fantastic trip? A great finish to a great tour, but also a confirmation of my feelings about a country that has been longing to be discovered for over four decades. I visited Colombia for the first time in 1991 and was instantly won over; the nature, the colonial cities and the people... especially the people.


The next day we left our hotel at 10am for a 400km drive to Medellin. We had already heard that the first part would be relatively flat, then more or less sloping up until Manizales, and from there a final pass of 3,000masl just before Medellin. The road started out perfectly smooth, even turning into a four-lane highway of sorts after the first 25km. Intervals of two and four-lane roads, and road-works kept us on our toes, and it became clear that by next year this entire stretch would probably be much faster to traverse. We reached Pereira and entered the famous coffee region of Colombia, one of the more prosperous parts of the country. The region is one beautifully green and fertile land filled with coffee plantations doubling as hotels. One can spend a good time here between the picturesque towns of Pereira and Armenia, relaxing at the haciendas, learning all there is to know about coffee and enjoying the splendid natural surroundings. We sadly did not have much time to stop, but luckily I had been here before (see a few blog entries back).
We pushed on toward Medellin, which was still quite a long way off. We were experiencing some minor problems with the car. The passenger window had sunk into the door and decided it did not want to come up again, whilst dark clouds were gathering in the sky above us. The “Amp” light was on again, meaning we were once more driving without charging the battery, and the Volvo’s loyal engine was having difficulties adjusting to the climate and had started to heat up. We stopped at a gas station upon leaving Pereira, filled up our tank and provisionally sealed the window using an old raincoat and a lot of duct tape. As the rain started pouring out of the sky, we ordered and devoured one of the best hamburgers on our trip in the station’s cafeteria. This combined with really great service and one of the most impeccable toilets ever seen anywhere, let alone in a gas station, caused Johan to officially baptize the place as one of the very best pit-stops along the entire South American Pan-American Highway. And I think he was right!


Stomachs filled and window temporarily closed we drove on. Though half of our challenges were taken care of, the battery and overheating problems persisted. However, anyone who has driven an older car before knows that an overheating engine can be dealt with, at least temporarily, by turning on the car’s heater. That said, the fans that transport the hot air from the engine to the passenger compartment do so by means of electricity, so when your engine problem is combined with a battery charging issue, then you are kind of screwed. On the road to Manizales we were stopped by another one of those unexpectedly friendly police officers, who wished to see our papers. We killed the engine and did as we were asked. After a nice conversation we were told we could move on, but of course our battery was as dead as could be. Without much ado the police officer stopped another car and ordered the driver to help us jumpstart the Volvo, which was taken care of without questions and with much friendliness and ease. As we stood there with our heads under the hood of our 1968 travel companion, I had a closer look at the electrical wiring. I followed one of the wires that seemed to come from the alternator to one of the fuse-boxes and opened it. It seemed like one of the fuses was kind of dirty and not plugged in as tightly as it should be, but that was nothing a Swiss army knife and a band-aid from our first aid kit could not resolve. I have never been much of a McGiver, but the “Amp” light did not bother us anymore after that.

What with all the pit-stops we had kind of fallen behind schedule and had to make haste. Around 5pm, dusk set in just as we were headed back into the mountains. We had one last pass to conquer before we would be able to descend into Medellin. With the day fading, we found ourselves on a meandering mountain road littered with heavy trucks, slowing us down quite a bit. The car was not happy with this at all, and as well as having the now perfectly functioning heater at full blast, I had to resort to hitting the clutch, brake and gas pedals at regular 20-50m intervals to make sure the engine ran enough rpm’s to keep itself from boiling over. The last 25km were kind of tormenting, the temperature inside the car was around that of an over-eager Swedish sauna, and there was no way for us to escape the huge traffic jam slowly creeping down the hill into Medellin. We eventually reached the city limits around 8pm, but due to the maze of one-way streets that managed not to match with our map at all, it was another hour and a half before we finally found our hotel in the old city center. Old indeed, as our hotel, built in the 1940s, seemed not the have been touched since. We didn’t even bother to have dinner, but located our copper grandma beds and crashed straight away.


We checked out one early Sunday morning, and without having seen one bit of the much-heralded city of Medellin we hit the highway at 6am and made our way towards Cartagena de Indias. We had been informed about yet another 3000m pass we would have to cross 200km after leaving our hotel, and with another 500km to go after that, so we did not take any risks this time. The early bird factor, and the fact that it was Sunday and this is still a catholic country, made for sparse traffic (apart from many sinning cyclists) and we conquered the pass around 11am. After this point we descended easily into the next valley, which would be our stomping ground until reaching Cartagena that night. We made good time and even though we had left the mountains behind us the landscape was attractive and varied. We encountered very little traffic throughout most of the rest of the trip, and sometime around 4.30pm we only had 150km to go before Cartagena. Here we encountered a little more traffic and saw the damage done by the high waters of the past weeks. Colombia is graced by three Andean mountain ranges, intersected by three large rivers, all of which end in the Caribbean Sea near Cartagena. As all three of them had been processing much more water than normal, they had simultaneously overflowed, flooding many villages in the area. We passed numerous houses under water and crossed various bridges on the verge of being inundated by the huge mass of water surrounding us. Parts of some of the bridges had already given in, but we managed to cross them and drove into Cartagena through little back streets around 6pm. Of course we got neatly entangled in the evening peak traffic, but we did not care. Cartagena is a beautiful city, and we were happy to slowly finish the last part of our journey, savoring the salty air of the Caribbean after 10 days of hard driving all the way north from Lima. We eventually made it to the Hilton, our hotel for that night, located in the new part of town and looking out over the Caribbean Sea. A feeling of euphoria came over us and we lost very little time parking the car, stuffing our luggage in our rooms and cleaning up just enough to be allowed into the Café del Mar in the old part of town. A nice and cool place located on top of the fortified wall surrounding the old city, with spectacular views of both the city and the sea. Nothing could taste better than a couple of ice-cold beers to finish off yet another unforgettable trip.



The next day, December 20th, Johan took the Volvo to the harbor from where it would be shipped back to Europe. Just before he left we said our goodbyes, as I would fly back to Lima that same afternoon and from there to Buenos Aires the next day. I was going to arrive in Peru around 1am and had arranged for a room in the Ramada Hotel at Lima Airport to catch as much sleep as possible before my 10am ongoing flight to BA. Of course my life would not be what it is if it had not thrown me one last little curve ball in the form of my old fried Guillermo Gomez, a pal from the early days in Peru, who had moved to Venezuela a long time ago, but who happened to be in Lima and decided it was time to pay me a short visit, even in the middle of the night. This is how I ended up in the hotel lobby drinking double pisco sours with a great friend until the wee hours of the night, missing my flight that next morning and almost arriving too late for Karin’s birthday the next day… Luckily everything was planned well ahead, so when I finally touched down at Ezeiza Airport at 7am on the 22nd, my father was there to pick me up, while my visiting sister and my daughters had already arranged a beautiful breakfast in our garden. Karin just walked down the stairs when I entered the front door. “Ah, you’re back,” she said, “just in time!” We hugged and life was simply great.

Ecuador to Colombia in a 1968 Volvo Amazon


South America Road-trip in an old-timer

After leaving Ecuador at Ipiales we entered Colombia, and when the torrential rain had subsided, we continued along the road to Pasto. We were not sure how the road conditions would be, but we needn’t have worried; it was in mint condition, recently asphalted and smooth as silk. We traversed through a spectacular, green and mountainous landscape, regularly passing waterfalls and enjoying views of fertile valleys. Both Johan and I have seen quite a bit of South America, but this was one of those moments when you are simply struck silent, taking in the awe and savoring it. Probably it also had something to do with the fact that we were driving into a country that until recently was considered too dangerous to visit, let alone drive through, and we were entering one of the areas still marked “grey” on the safety map of Colombia. The overwhelming natural beauty, and the peace and calm that the countryside beamed back at us simply did not marry with that cautious warning, or with the enormous road signs showing Colombian Special Forces with heavy weaponry and futuristic war-helicopters, which were, supposedly, protecting the area. We never saw anything even remotely resembling military, apart from a couple days later when we saw troops helping people out in the flooded areas to the north. The road was as safe as any we’d driven down already.



We reached Pasto at nightfall; a relatively small town in the mountains (150k inhabitants). We arrived at our hotel after an easy cruise through the town, parked our car in the garage and went for a short walk. During our walk we stumbled upon an impressive and surreal Christmas garden; an enormous stable with figurines belonging to the Christmas story, some of them higher than the actual buildings surrounding the park, and most of them decked out in rainbow neon lights. Large amounts of people roamed the park, stopping to buy things at stalls selling food, beverages and a wide array of religious objects. Again an unexpected and beautiful moment, enhanced by the warmth of the people we would learn to enjoy Colombia for.

The next morning we left for Cali. The sun was already beaming in the sky and before we knew it we were out of town and on the Pan-Americana Highway again. According to the owner of the hotel we just left, the road to Cali would be more mountainous and in some parts would be of worse quality, mainly due to the fact that lately this part of the country had seen a lot of rain and there had been several landslides. Still the entire stretch for today was only 380km, so we felt that making it to Cali before 5pm should not be too much of a challenge. The first part of the trip was mountainous indeed, sloping down from Pasto at 2500masl to more tropical surroundings at 700masl. Colombia seemed to be much more densely populated than the other countries we had passed through thus far and the road was busy with all kinds of traffic. Especially the large amount and great variety of trucks brought our traveling tempo down significantly. The scenery was pretty and we took our time, stopping to take pictures and enjoy the views whenever we felt like it. Even so, the road was in good shape and we expected to make it to beautiful Popayan around 1pm for lunch, but that turned out differently…



 Closing in on Popayan the road got hillier, and while we were cruising along the winding tarmac, all of a sudden we ran into a long line of vehicles. This of course happens from time to time, when roadwork is being done and one lane is closed off. During regular intervals traffic from one direction and then the other is given priority to take the lane left open. This was a different situation however, as we saw no traffic coming down the mountain and could not see where the jam started. Eventually we turned off our engine and got out of the car, just like everybody else. Our Volvo drew attention as usual, and several people came walking along for a friendly chat. Johan got talking to the owner of one of the cars in front of us, who was also en route to Cali, and meanwhile I went for a walk to find out what was causing this unexpected stall. I walked for a good 20 minutes and still hadn’t reached a point where I could see what was going on. What I did see were a couple of empty sand trucks coming down the hill looking like they had just unloaded. After some asking around I figured out that there had been a large landslide uphill and that the entire road had disappeared. The trucks coming down were the first of a series that had been commissioned from higher in the mountains to bring sand and rocks to fill in the missing part of road. Apparently these had already managed to cross the gap, so I started walking back to Johan and our car. When I arrived Johan was standing with a Colombian baby on his arm, salsa music blaring from the Volvo’s powerful speakers (the Xplod car stereo was definitely no old timer) and people smiling, dancing and taking pictures all around. Nice stop! We shared some snacks and water with other drivers and finally the first cars and motorcycles started coming down the mountain.



It still took a long time before we were could start driving again and in the end the whole episode took four hours out of our driving day. Lunch in Popayan was not an option anymore and we pushed on straight to Cali. During the wait we were approached by an elderly gentleman, also on his way to Cali, but by bus. He was on his way to visit his family there, but the bus ride would take him through Popayan where he would have to change vehicles and lose many precious hours, so he asked if we needed a guide to get us into Cali city in exchange for a ride. We said ‘no problem’ and that turned out to be a lucky move. Cali has over 2m inhabitants and we had no clue how to find our hotel. Funny enough our passenger happened to live very close to the hotel and as he knew the town like the back of his hand. It took us about 10 minutes to traverse the myriad of highways and little streets to arrive around 8pm to the front door of our hotel. We said goodbye to our passenger and ran into the bar for a few cold beers before retreating to our room with two super king-size beds for a good night’s sleep. Another day full of warm, spontaneous, exuberant and friendly Colombians and their beautiful country with spectacular landscapes, managed to send us to the land of dreams in a matter of seconds.

Part 2 - Ecuador to Colombia in a 1968 Volvo Amazon


South America Road-trip in an old-timer

Ecuador is a nice country to drive through in your own car. After having made it without problems to Loja and on to Cuenca, we were headed to Quito, the capital of the country. In Quito we planned to stop and take a rest, but before that we had to cross 450km along the ‘avenue of volcanoes’, a route that promised some spectacular views.



We wanted to leave Cuenca on time to make sure we’d have enough time to take the drive easy and stop for some picture taking. However, we were confronted with a slight electrical challenge. The car battery was not charging and after checking the fuse-box and wiring we decided it had to be the dynamo/generator. We asked one of the hotel’s drivers to give us a jump-start and for directions before we drove to a near-by garage specializing in car-related electricity issues. The owner took one look at our beautiful Amazon and decided that he would help. It took him about 15 minutes to disconnect and take out the dynamo, another 15 minutes to completely take it apart, clean it up and find a small part being worn out to the bone, for which he of course happened to have an Eastern-European-made generic spare. Putting it all back together whilst charging our battery to the max took another 30 minutes, and the total operation cost us about 15 USD. Even so, we did not leave Cuenca before 1pm and so we prepared for a late arrival in Quito.



The first part of the route was very hilly, full of hairpin bends and in bad condition. On top of that, a thick fog confirmed our feeling that this would become a long day, but after passing the town of Alausi, just like a couple of days before, the mist disappeared as we drove into a wide valley and onto a beautiful 4-lane highway. The odds had changed to our favor. During the last part of the journey we hit the Volcano Avenue, and the landscape was indeed spectacular. We managed to get a glimpse of snow-capped Chimborazo; the highest active volcano in the world, and we saw clouds and gasses rise from the Tunguragua Volcano. Sadly, around these parts the sun sets around 6pm, so we missed the perfectly cone-shaped point of the Cotopaxi. We eventually made it to Hotel Quito at 8pm, which given the hectic ride into the city, wasn’t bad going at all.

Hotel Quito is situated in the La Floresta neighborhood, a nice part of town from where one enjoys a beautiful view over the city. The next day was our allocated resting day, so we took it easy and both decided to visit our local business partners. 



Thursday we made our way toward Colombia, crossing the equator en route. We left at 9am with the sun high in the sky and it promised to be a beautiful drive. From our hotel we made it relatively quickly to the highway, taking us out of town before we knew it. Whilst driving further north and away from Quito the landscape turned dry and rocky around us, completely different to what we had seen before in Ecuador. We passed some of the many rose-nurseries this region of the country is famous for, and in which the Dutch have made some heavy investments, and after about 40km reached the equator. First we made a stop at the ‘previous equator’, initially indicated by the Inca people as the line where the earth is at its widest. However, correct GPS measurements indicate that the ‘real equator’ lies about 30m further north, so we were obliged to make another stop at the official monument placed there a couple of years ago. We did not spend too much time here (I lived in Ecuador for half a year in 1994 and have been to this spot many times before) and drove on. We had a long way to go still and had no idea how much time we would need to get to the Colombian border.


On our way we passed through the towns of Otovalo and Ibarra. Otavalo is famous for its textiles and the huge Saturday market. The indigenous people are proud of their legacy, much stronger than many other indigenous people elsewhere in Latin America. They are happy to demonstrate where they come from through their costumes; this is one of the few places where one still finds men as well as women fully dressed according to the local codes. We drove on and passed a beautiful green valley, a lot lower down and warmer. Sugarcane was the main crop here, planted by the Europeans soon after their arrival. The Europeans brought many African slaves to work the plantations and therefore this still is a mainly black region, which is something one would not expect driving through the Andes with its typical indigenous people. The sun was strong and we enjoyed our trip to the Colombian border, arriving there at around 3pm. Without warning, the 2-lane road we were driving on turned one-way leaving us no way out of an enormous traffic jam; it seems there were other people wanting to get into Colombia…

After about an hour in the queue the weather changed; clouds appeared in the sky and slowly but surely it started to rain harder and harder. At some point it felt like there was no space between the huge drops anymore. For some reason our car was not washed of the road and we slowly crept toward the border facilities where we had to get out of the car and were soaked in a matter of seconds. Paperwork went smooth, helped by the laughs and giggles we caused running from window to window, leaving puddles everywhere we went. Colombians like a good laugh and we realized we would have a good time in this new country.



The Amazon was not prepared for the amount of water we brought back in and her fans did not manage to clear our windscreens, forcing us to drive on while constantly polishing the glass on the inside, with our windows open, allowing more rain in. One of the customs officers, between great outbursts of laughter about our appearance, had given us a golden tip; when your windshield wipers cannot process the amount of water falling out of the sky anymore, put on your darkest sunglasses; for some reason, they break the light filtering through the film of water on your windscreen, creating an almost perfect view again. Sounds odd, but we tried it and it works… kind of. Only do this when nothing else helps and you really have to push forward, and then only at a very low speed, as the images are distorted enough to create accidents, but it helped us get out of that valley and onto dry land back on the road to Pasto.

14 Crazy Baseball Facts

Found on http://joeposnanski.si.com/2011/07/01/14-crazy-baseball-facts/?xid=cnnbin&hpt=hp_bn10 on 7-5-11


First: Nothing that follows is serious. None of it. You know how David Letterman, before Stupid Pet Tricks, would always say: “Please, no wagering.” I want to say “Please, no conclusions.” Because what follows is just a list of 14 baseball facts that shocked the heck out of me … nothing more. I am not saying, suggesting or even hinting that Luis Gonzalez should be compared to Al Kaline or that Dan Quisenberry was better than Mariano Rivera. That’s not the point at all. This is supposed to be pure fun. I hope, with at least one, you might read it and think: “Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
The idea for this list sparked earlier this week when Johnny Damon got the 2,654th hit of his career. That tied him with Ted Williams. (Damon passed Williams on Saturday night.) And it AMAZED me. It didn’t amaze me in the larger context. Damon has 1,562 more at-bats than Williams. When I tweeted about it, people immediately sniped with the point that Ted Williams went to war twice — a fact that, it is at least possible, I already knew. But that’s what I mean about taking stuff seriously. I’m not suggesting that Johnny Damon is as good a hitter as Ted Williams or half as good or a quarter as good. Johnny Damon’s BEST full offensive season (it was no slouch of a year — in 2000 for Kansas City, he hit .327, scored 136 runs and led the league with 46 stolen bases) was probably not as good as Ted Williams’ WORST full offensive season (1956, when he hit .345/.479/.605 in 503 plate appearances).
And yes, Ted Williams went to war. Twice.
But that does not change this: Johnny Damon has more hits than Ted Williams. If you phrase the question right, you could probably win a free beer with that one the next time you’re at a bar. It’s something fun to talk about.
So, I spent a day just looking around and came up with 14 little baseball facts — maybe they are conversations starters, maybe they will win you a bar bet, maybe they will just give you a fun little buzz. And maybe they will inspire you to write in the comments: “So, wait, are you crazy? Are you really saying that Ron Kittle was better than Lou Gehrig?”
Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.
14. Johnny Damon (2,662) has more hits than Ted Williams (2,654).
I’m working on a Derek Jeter piece for his 3,000th hit, and it has pushed me to think about what 3,000 hits means. Of course, every player who has ever gotten 3,000 hits was a terrific player. But Babe Ruth didn’t get 3,000 hits. Ted Williams didn’t. Rogers Hornsby, Joe DiMaggio, Barry Bonds, Lou Gehrig … I’d say if you put together the best team you could find of hitters who DID NOT get 3,000 hits, it would beat the team of players who DID get 3,000 hits.
Team with 3,000 hits
1B: Stan Musial
2B: Eddie Collins
SS: Honus Wagner (or Cal Ripken or Jeter soon)
3B: George Brett
LF: Ty Cobb (or Rickey or Yaz)
CF: Willie Mays
RF: Hank Aaron (or Clemente or Kaline)
C: None (Ivan Rodriguez only one with 2,500 hits)
That team is amazing. But look at the non-3,000 hit team.
Team without 3,000 hits
1B: Lou Gehrig
2B: Joe Morgan (or Hornsby)
SS: Ernie Banks (or Arky Vaughan or Barry Larkin)
3B: Mike Schmidt (or A-Rod)
LF: Ted Williams (or Barry Bonds)
CF: Mickey Mantle (or DiMaggio)
RF: Babe Ruth
C: Johnny Bench (or Yogi)
As good as that first team is, I’d have to take the second. Not that this is surprising — you have a much larger group to choose from with non-3,000 hits. But that’s the point here: Three thousand hits isn’t exactly about excellence. It is about something a little bit more subtle and, in its own way, wonderful. As mentioned: I will write a lot about this in the Jeter piece.
Has Johnny Damon been a consistently great hitter? No. He has occasionally been great, often been good, sometimes been average or below. But he has always been available. While the Damon-has-more-hits-than-Williams stat might mean nothing, here’s a stat that could carry some weight: Damon has played more than 140 games every single year since 1996. And he probably will do it again this year. That will make SIXTEEN STRAIGHT SEASONS that Johnny Damon has played more than 140 games.
How rare is that? Well … Hank Aaron did it. Brooks Robinson did it. Pete Rose did it. And, yep, that’s it. Those are the only three players in baseball history who have played 140-plus games for 16 straight years. And nobody has ever done it 17 straight. (Ripken would have, presumably, but his 17-year run was diminished by the strike-shortened seasons of 1994 and ’95.)
13. Tim Raines (3,977) reached base more times than Tony Gwynn (3,955).
If you read this blog occasionally — or like to surf the baseball corner of the Internet — you have probably seen this stat. Tim Raines and Tony Gwynn had almost identical length careers. Raines had his first full season in 1982, which was Gwynn’s first partial season. Gwynn retired in 2001; Raines in 2002.
Raines came to the plate 10,359 times. Gwynn came to the plate 10,232 times.
Raines reached base 22 more times than Gwynn. Now, I will admit that I sometimes use this statistic for more than quirky fun … I try to use it to show just how great a player Tim Raines really was. Gwynn’s greatness was more obvious because of the high batting averages, the eight batting titles, the hit totals and so on. Raines’ greatness was less obvious because so much of his value was tied up in walks and stolen bases and because after he turned 35 he became more of a role player.
But this doesn’t detract from the statistic: The idea offensively for pretty much anyone — but especially for players like Raines and Gwynn, who didn’t hit for great power — is to reach base. Not make outs. Raines was just about as good at it as Gwynn. And in part because he was perhaps the greatest percentage base runner in baseball history, he also scored 180 more runs than Gwynn over his career.
I hope the bulk of the 97.6% of Hall of Famer voters who voted Gwynn on first ballot will come to realize that Tim Raines was about as good a baseball player as Tony Gwynn … he just did it a bit differently.
But more, if you have a friend who is just a casual baseball fan, you can DEFINITELY win a bar bet on this one.
12. Luis Gonzalez (1,018) has more extra-base hits than Al Kaline (972).
The Selig Era of offense created all sorts of quirky careers. At age 29 — this would have been after the 1997 season — Gonzalez’s list of most comparable players included: Mel Hall, Von Hayes, Dan Ford, Ben Grieve and Willie Crawford.
At age 39, his comps included: Dave Winfield, Andre Dawson, Tony Perez, Dave Parker and, yes Al Kaline.
Luis Gonzalez has 596 doubles in his career, which is 15th on the all-time list. He hit 52 doubles at the grand old age of 38 — only Tris Speaker managed that little feat. While Kaline spent much of his time struggling with injuries and a decidedly pitcher-dominated game (and he did not really have a great season after age 32), Gonzalez had a marvelous stretch of health in his 30s and played in a time when — for all the reasons you have considered — baseballs soared.
And, it’s a good reminder that baseball is really about context. Al Kaline was a MUCH better player than Luis Gonzalez. His 2-1 Wins Above Replacement advantage (91.0 to 46.3) tells that story. But the simple fact that Gonzalez does have more extra-base hits tells a story of its own.
11. Phil Niekro (3,342) has more strikeouts than Bob Gibson (3,117).
I don’t know — I just find that interesting. Niekro pitched 1,500 more innings than Gibson, which explains the stat well enough. But still, it’s a fascinating image to think that Phil Niekro, with that crazy knuckleball that fluttered and dived and even seemed to rise when it caught the wind right, struck out more batters than Bob Gibson in all of his awesomeness and fury.
Here’s a great little Niekro statistic for you: He is one of only two pitchers in baseball history to lead the league in losses four years in a row. He did it from 1977 to 1980 (though in 1979, he also led the league in wins). The other pitcher to do it? The legendary Pedro Ramos, who lost 18, 19, 18 and 20 from 1958 to 1961. Ramos’ lifetime .422 winning percentage is the lowest for any pitcher with 275 decisions or more. Phil Niekro, meanwhile, won 300 games. The power of the knuckler.
10. Cole Hamels (8.554) averages more strikeouts per nine innings than Roger Clemens (8.552).
In a list of meaningless little stats, this one might be the most meaningless … how about having to go to the third number behind the decimal point to find this one? But I kind of like it because it is a reminder than Cole Hamels is not just a terrific pitcher, he’s a dominating one. I can remember on at least three occasions this year hearing Hamels referred to as a “crafty” pitcher. There is absolutely nothing wrong with lefty pitchers being called crafty — I actually think it’s one of the great compliments in sports — but it doesn’t fit Hamels. He pumps his fastball into the mid-90s and destroys hitters with that devastating changeup. He may have a little craftiness in him, but that doesn’t describe him. He’s overpowering.
9. Amos Otis (341) has more stolen bases than Willie Mays (338).
Frank White always says that Amos Otis was the best base stealer he ever saw. This wasn’t based on pure numbers — White played with and against plenty of others who stole more bases. Heck, Willie Wilson stole as many as 83 bases in a season (Frank says that Wilson was the FASTEST player he ever saw, along with Bo Jackson, but that’s a different thing).
No, his feelings about Otis are based on the science of the steal. Otis read pitchers like few ever have. This wasn’t as apparent (or perhaps even true) in his younger days, when Otis could still run well. It was REALLY apparent after age 29, when Otis’ speed had diminished. He still was successful on about 80% of his steals after that, even when he really couldn’t run all that fast. Frank says that Otis used to say between innings that he would steal a base standing up, and then go out there and do it.
I’d argue that stolen base numbers, perhaps more than any other, are a product of the era. Jackie Robinson was a great base stealer — one of the best of all time — and yet he never stole more than 37 in a season. Another Dodgers second baseman, Steve Sax, was a DREADFUL base stealer, especially in his younger days, but he stole as many as 56 in a season (getting caught an almost impossible-to-believe 30 times that year). That’s a difference in the times. Jackie Robinson on the right team in the 1970s might have stolen 100 bases in a year.
Willie Mays led the league in stolen bases four years in a row — from 1956 through ’59. But in those days 27 steals could lead the league (and did in 1959). Had Mays played in another era, he might have stolen 60 in a year. He might have been the first and only 50-50 player of all time. But he played in the era when he played, and was plenty good anyway.
8. Sammy Sosa hit 60-plus homers THREE TIMES.
I know: You already knew this one. But no matter how many times I see it — sort of like no matter how many times I look at Ted Williams’ on-base percentage numbers — I’m blown away by the fact.
Sammy Sosa hit 66 home runs in that famous and infamous 1998 season. The next year, he hit 63. Two years later he hit 64. I mean, that’s just plain ridiculous. Three times, Sammy Sosa hit more home runs in a season than Babe Ruth or Roger Maris ever did.
And that leads to perhaps the greatest baseball trivia question of all-time* — one that will only get more and more amazing with time.
*I’ve long believed that the greatest baseball trivia question of all time was simply: “How many times was Roger Maris intentionally walked the year he hit 61 homers?” Answer: Zero. He had Mantle hitting behind him.
Here’s the question: Three times Sammy Sosa broke Roger Maris’ record of 61 home runs. How many of those years did he lead the league in home runs?
Answer: Zero. McGwire hit more than him in 1998 and 1999 and Barry Bonds hit more than him in 2001. And those are the only three seasons in baseball history in which another player even COULD have beaten him. It’s a statistical wonder (or, if you prefer, a travesty that still makes people doubt great offensive baseball performances).
Sosa did lead the league in homers twice, in 2000 and 2002. He led the league with 50 and 49 respectively.
7. Curtis Granderson hit 23 triples in 2007, the most for any player in the last 60 years.
You might have noticed that Jose Reyes is on pace to hit 30 triples this year. Only one player in baseball history — the famed Chief Wilson in 1912 — has hit 30 triples in a year. But more to the point, no player has even hit 25 triples in a year since Kiki Cuyler did it in 1925. There has already been discussion at the magazine of me following around Jose Reyes as he tries to break the record. I mean, the triple is the most exciting play in baseball right? That means Reyes is trying to become the most exciting baseball player EVER, right?*
*My 14 most exciting players in sports list is still coming. Reyes figures to be prominent.
In any case, only three players since 1950 have hit more than 20 triples in a year — the aforementioned Willie Wilson in 1985 and Lance Johnson in 1996 hit 21, and Curtis Granderson hit 23 in his excellent 2007 season. Triples are driven by the dimensions and shape of the player’s home ballpark — Detroit has been in the Top 4 in the league in triples every year since Comerica Park opened. Boston, for obvious Green Monster reasons, is always at or near the top in doubles.
Still, Grandy’s 23-triple year is historic … even if I had never thought of it that way before.
6. Aubrey Huff (345) has more doubles than Mickey Mantle (344).
Here is a statistical quirk: Mickey Mantle did not hit doubles. In 1954, when he led the league in runs scored, he hit only 17. In 1961 — his 54-homer year — he hit only 16. This is really odd, I think. Mantle hit 37 doubles in 1952 — second in the league behind Ferris Fain — but never again hit even 30 in a season.
Now, Mantle’s disciples will point out that it’s not odd at all — Mantle’s knees were shot. When you can’t run, you can’t stretch singles into doubles. And that may be so. But, Mantle was hardly an invalid. He led the league in triples once, and was among the leaders four times. He stole 150 bases in his career. He played center field pretty much his entire career. There’s more to it than just the knees. Of the 76 players in baseball history who had at least as many plate appearances as Mantle, only two — Graig Nettles and Darrell Evans — had fewer doubles.
5. Dan Quisenberry (five) led the league in saves more times than Mariano Rivera (three).
The save might be the single most influential statistic in sports history. By “influential” I mean the effect it has had on the game. I’d say counting sacks has had a big influence on football; counting blocked shots has had a big impact on hoops.
Still: The save feels different. The save has changed the way managers use pitchers. The save has inspired absurdly expensive contracts for pitchers who, for whatever reason, do not actually start baseball games. The save has given us the oddity of one-inning closers. The save has turned pitchers without a third pitch, without great stamina, without staying power into mega-stars.
Who knows why some statistics have staying power while others don’t? Maybe Malcolm Gladwell does. But for whatever reason, Jerome Holtzman’s invention of the save has had a mighty impact on baseball.
One of the biggest impacts is that the save gave us the joy of Mariano Rivera. There is absolutely no way to know what kind of pitcher Mariano Rivera would have been had he come up in 1953. Could he have made it as a starter? Would managers have picked up on his almost mystical ability to throw scoreless innings with the games at their hottest? Would he have been a better version of Ron Perranoski or Hoyt Wilhelm?
Then again, how good would he have been in the Goose Gossage role of the 1970s? Gossage asked that exact question recently. They were very different kinds of closers, especially when Goose was young. Rivera has only thrown 80-plus innings in the regular season as a closer once (though it’s many times if you consider the playoffs). Gossage threw 80-plus innings as a closer nine times. Rivera threw three innings only once as a closer, in 2006 against Detroit. In 1975 alone, Gossage threw three-plus innings 22 times.
How good would Mariano have been in another time? I’d say he would have been great in any of those settings. I’d say that because Rivera has greatness in him. This is the world he inherited, the world of the one-inning closer. He has done it in New York, with a team that is always in contention, in a city that freaks out like few others after blown games. He’s the best who ever lived.
It’s still pretty interesting that Quiz led the league in saves more times.
4. Bernie Williams (.477) has a higher slugging percentage than Roberto Clemente (.475)*.
*Though: So does Matt Stairs, Ray Lankford and Rusty Greer.
Clemente did not really develop his power until he was in his 30s. Through age 30 he had a career .446 slugging percentage. This had to do with several things, no doubt. Then he hit a career-high 29 homers at age 31 and slugged .524 for the rest of his career.
Even with that, Clemente was not a great power hitter. I don’t think that’s how you would describe him. He never hit 30 home runs. He only once hit 40 doubles. His was not a power hitters’ era, of course, but even in his day his .475 slugging percentage was not especially striking. His brilliance was in his relentlessness. He had double-digit triples every year from age 30 to 35. He connected with everything — any list of great bad ball hitters would begin with Clemente*. He played with violence and intensity, and this made him impossible to ignore or overlook. To watch him play was to appreciate him.
*And another guy, Yogi Berra, who I happened to write about in SI this week. And if you are an SI subscriber who has not yet gotten your FREE iPad app, well, this week’s incredible cover should get you motivated.
Bernie Williams, meanwhile, was a terrific player from 1995 to 2002. His defense has been a point of contention — he won four Gold Gloves, though by his last he was almost certainly a defensive liability in center field — but he hit .321/.406/.531 over those eight years. There will be those who will argue Bernie for the Hall of Fame, and there’s a case to be made. But the value of his career is really almost entirely locked up in those eight seasons, and that just probably isn’t long enough.
3. Greg Maddux led pitchers in assists 12 times and in putouts eight — both records.
We all know that defensive statistics are tricky. They are often unrevealing, and perhaps as often they are plain deceiving. They are subject to interpretation and faith and all sort of other things. This is perhaps even more true when it comes to pitcher’s defense, since pitchers are not even allowed to catch pop-ups most of the time.
Still, there are certain things in defense that we count. We count assists. We count putouts. And Greg Maddux led the league in both pretty much every season. This matched the eye — he’s the best I ever saw at fielding his position. You couldn’t really bunt on him. Nobody got off the mount to cover first base any better. They talk about good-fielding pitchers being the fifth infielder, well, Maddux really was like that — his quick reactions meant he got to more bouncers and ground balls and even line drives up the middle than just about anybody else. In many ways, he took away that alley, which is a pretty important alley for hitters.
He’s the best fielding pitcher I ever saw. Then again, as regular readers of this blog know, he’s also my favorite pitcher ever.
2. Harold Baines (1,628) has almost 100 more RBIs than Joe DiMaggio (1,537).
This is where you say: “Hey, wait, Joe DiMaggio went to war …”
He did, of course. The only real point here is that Harold Baines had 1,628 RBIs. And that’s amazing.
1. Ron Kittle (one every 15.39 at-bats) hit more home runs per at-bat than Lou Gehrig (one every 16.23).
It was a strange career. Ron Kittle went to a Dodgers tryout camp in 1976 after high school. He has said — and he’s a Facebook friend, so I know — that people told him he couldn’t play baseball at the big league level with glasses. It was like that in the 1970s. The Dodgers signed him, glasses and all, and he remembers breaking his neck (literally breaking his neck) in his first professional game. He got released 13 games into the next season.
He then signed with the White Sox and worked his way up to Double-A, where he hit decently. He made it back up to Double-A the year after that, when he was 22, and hit a little better than decently.
The next year he was 23, and he hit 40 home runs in Double-A.
The year after that, he was 24, and he hit 50 home runs in Triple-A.
At that point, the White Sox decided, hey, why not, call the kid up? And on July 4 of his rookie season, he was second in the league in home runs. He would end up hitting 35 of them, playing in the All-Star Game, winning Rookie of the Year. The image of Kittle, with those big glasses, hitting long home runs, was an inspiration to me and my own Coke-bottle glasses. He crushed 32 home runs his next year. In all he hit seven rooftop homers at Comiskey, mashed a homer off Dave Rozema on the Game of the Week that a few of us still talk about and, well, here are plenty of Kittle fun facts.
After the 32-homer year, he never again got 500 plate appearances in a season — because of injury and, I suspect, strikeouts. But the texture of the game does not only come from its greatest players. It also comes from players who were great in limited spaces. Ron Kittle, for too short a time, had massive power. And that made him another kind of luckiest man.
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