By: Mike Carter
By now everyone witnessed the shrugged shoulders and tears of David Ortiz as his storied career ended this week at the hands of the never-say-die Cleveland Indians.
The numbers are staggering. A career .286 batting average, 541 home runs, 1,768 RBI and an OPS of .931. Big Papi topped it off in 2016 with a .315 batting average, 38 home runs and 127 RBI and an OPS of 1.021. Being a Chicago native, I have watched the inexplicable David Ross train and watched people fall over themselves to congratulate Grandpa Rossy. Totally ridiculous, but that’s not the point of this post. Ortiz is a career 55.4 WAR player, topping it off this year with a 5.1 WAR. If you don’t know that stat, it represents wins above replacement level player. An average, starting MLB player is usually between a 1 and 2 in WAR. A WAR of 5.1 is superstar level. Big Papi did that at age 40. I’m 43, and I love when old guys perform at such high levels. Maybe I’ll get a Bartolo Colon jersey next year!
I remember being a young guy watching David Ortiz come up with the rival Minnesota Twins. I didn’t think much of him. I was wrong. He was a huge man with a huge swing who seemed to not make frequent contact. When he was cut loose by the Twins in 2002, no one could have seen the surge coming that the Boston Red Sox and their faithful were about to witness for the next 13 years. Not only did he post video game numbers, signed as an afterthought, he helped them win three world championships. A moribund, snake-bitten franchise has become a consistent winner again during his tenure.
The legacy also shows some tarnish. While the allegations were never proven, and while he never seemed to have failed a test, Ortiz was lumped in with other players of the so-called “steroid era.” While a designated hitter has never been elected to the Hall of Fame, Ortiz garners serious merit and consideration. The problem is, no one in this great game seems to know how to categorize these players from that era. What do we do about Barry Bonds? How do we categorize these immensely talented yet incredibly flawed athletes? Roger Clemens? How different is taking steroids, which were made illegal in MLB in 1991, but not tested for until 2003, from taking greenies and amphetamines in the 1960s and 1970s? News flash: the game will never be free of performance-enhancing drugs. This debate will rage on for years until the MLB official give some indication on how to consider these players. Personally, I think Ortiz belongs in the Hall of Fame.
All that being said, do you know what I will remember most about Big Papi? His smile. His spitting on to his batting gloves, clapping his hands together between pitches as he geared up for another big swing. So many times, he seemed overmatched only to make adjustments in the middle of an at bat and hit a rope. He has made a career trying to hit the ball with authority over the wall, almost every time at bat. I’ll always remember the game-winning homer against the Yankees in 2004 to stave off elimination. I have goosebumps now just thinking about it again. I remember my palpable fear of him when my White Sox beat his Red Sox in 2005, my heart thumping every time he came up in a big spot. I never felt like I could take my eyes off him when he was at bat. He was mesmerizing, wasn’t he? Ortiz just gobbled up the scene.
I’ll remember his speech after the Boston Marathon tragedy and how he rallied the city behind him. He always gave a sense of the fun that baseball is in everything he did on the field. The game just seemed to slow down for him and clutch moments always seemed to follow him, and Big Papi often delivered in those big moments. Let’s face it; the game needs more personality and he brought it in large supply. I will miss him and that big grin.