HOVG Heroes: Dave Parker

DAN EPSTEIN on DAVE PARKER

In my mind, Dave Parker has always been a badass.

I became aware of his existence in April 1976, when I opened my first-ever Topps wax pack, which I received as a party favor at a friend’s 10^th birthday sleepover.

My friend’s parents took us all to see “The Bad News Bears” that night. In retrospect, you could pinpoint this as one of the most momentous evenings of my life: I was just about to turn 10 myself, and knew almost nothing about baseball at the time; but thanks to the cosmic forces set in motion by that birthday sleepover, I would soon trade in my obsession with military history (the American Revolution, the Civil War and World War II being my particular “jams”) for an even more consuming obsession with baseball history.

By the time I turned 11, I could wax even more eloquently on the subject of Johnny Bench versus Thurman Munson than I could on the subject of Robert E. Lee versus Ulysses S. Grant.

But back to that original wax pack.

It contained a few cards of players that I’d actually heard of, like home run king Hank Aaron and burgeoning star Ron LeFlore — the latter of whom I knew about, because he played for the nearby Detroit Tigers. Most of the players in the pack meant nothing to me, however; and as I hadn’t learned yet how to read the numbers on the back of their cards, I had no way of knowing if these guys were any good.

All I could tell was if they looked cool or not — and this Dave Parker cat looked the coolest of them all. Eyes locked confidently on the flight of the ball, right foot cocked arrogantly at the sky, right hand casually poised to discard a piece of lumber that looked as long as his leg, handsome face thick with fuzz and a muscled neck ornamented by a string of beads (pooka shells, maybe?)… this was clearly one baaaad dude.

A few days later, once my father had taught me how to read baseball stats, I realized that my initial impressions were correct: During his first full season in the Pirates’ lineup, Parker had hit .308 with 35 doubles, 10 triples, 25 home runs and 101 RBI. This was some solid production, to say the least — good enough to place Dave third in the NL MVP voting, albeit far behind Joe Morgan, who quite deservedly ran away with it that year.

But Dave’s time to really shine would soon be at hand.

I’ve never loved baseball more intensely than I did from 1976 through 1979; I still love the game now, obviously, but back then I was completely consumed with it. I read every baseball book and magazine I could get my hands on, memorized every box score and statistic that appeared in the papers, and spent countless hours working my way through the imagined lineups of various teams on the automatic pitch back in my backyard.

When it came time to face Dave Parker, I would rear back and throw as hard as I could, just to see how far the ball would fly.  After all, “The Cobra” (as he was known) was the most feared hitter in the National League in those days — even on my fantasy diamond, I figured I had no hope of ever striking him out.

Generally listed at somewhere around six-foot-five and 230 pounds, the dude was like a massive tree trunk come to life as a five-tool player. Posing with Jim Rice on the April 9, 1979 cover of Sports Illustrated, Parker — who’d won the 1978 NL MVP award — practically dwarfed his AL MVP counterpart. “Who’s Best?” asked the headline, and quite a few people in those days believed Parker was the better of the two; sure, Rice put up some undeniably fearsome offensive numbers from ’77 through ’79, but Parker was the complete package, bringing speed on the base paths (he averaged 19 swipes a season from 1976 through 1979), range in the outfield, and an absolute cannon of an arm into the equation.

In 1977, Parker led the NL in batting (.338), hits (215) and doubles (44) while scoring 107 runs, knocking 21 round-trippers, and racking up a .397 OBP… and he cut down a whopping 26 runners with throws from the outfield. Nobody in either league came within 10 of that total.

Though he’d never notch that many assists again in a season — NL base runners having generally taken the hint — “The Cobra” got a chance to uncoil two extremely memorable throws in the 1979 All-Star Game, nailing the aforementioned Mr. Rice at third base in the 7^th as he tried to stretch a double into a triple, and throwing Brian Downing out at the plate as he tried to score from second on a Graig Nettles single in the 8^th. The Downing throw in particular was a thing of frightening beauty, a no-bounce laser beam that almost took Gary Carter’s hand off.

Don’t fuck with “The Cobra”, man.

Even scarier than that All-Star Game bullet were the images of Parker in the various protective masks he wore during the 1978 and early '79 seasons, following the seismic collision with Mets catcher John Stearns that shattered his cheekbone.

Imagine how intimidating it would have been to be playing third base or catcher, and suddenly see all six and a half feet of Dave Parker barreling towards you, wearing a batting helmet outfitted with a football face guard? Or how about that hockey mask he briefly wore before the Pirates’ trainers came up with the football/baseball combo helmet, which foreshadowed Jason Voorhees’ murderous look by several months?

Ozzie Smith, who was playing shortstop for the Padres the day Parker first pinch-ran in the hockey mask, probably still has nightmares about it.

Just as Voorhees was a pitiless, unstoppable killing machine, Parker was equally relentless with the bat during the last two months of the 1978 season.

Hitting .316 when his June 30 collision with Stearns put him out of action for two weeks, he struggled after returning to the lineup in mid-July, his average eventually dwindling to .288. But then, during a three-day series against the Cubs in early August, he went 10-for-14 with a homer, three doubles and four RBI… and pretty much didn’t stop hitting from there until the end of the season, finishing with a league-leading .334 batting average, a .394 OBP, 32 doubles, 12 triples, 30 homers, 117 RBI and 102 runs scored, and very nearly leading the Pirates to the NL East title in the process.

His numbers slipped slightly in 1979 — he “only” batted .310 with a .380 OBP, 25 homers and 94 RBI — but he once again turned on the jets down the stretch, going 21-for-39 over the last nine games of the season as the “We Are Family” Pirates wrestled the NL East flag away from the Montreal Expos.

He then hit .333 against the Reds in the NLCS, and .345 against the Orioles with three doubles and four RBI in the World Series, including an RBI double that helped break Game 5 open. Jim Rice got a reputation for not producing when the game or the season was on the line; nobody could ever say that about “The Cobra”.

1979 also saw Parker sign what was then the biggest contract in Major League history; though Nolan Ryan is often credited with being MLB’s first “million dollar man,” Parker signed a million-a-year contract nearly a year before “The Ryan Express” did — though the Pirates (not wanting to be seen as the first team to break the million-dollar mark) structured the deal with various incentives and deferred payments in order to downplay the fact.

While Parker certainly deserved to be in the upper echelon of baseball salaries at the time, that contract also effectively served to put a target on his back. The idea of a supremely confident, intelligent, outspoken black man who wore jewelry on the field (including a gold Star of David, “because my name is David, and I’m a star”) having the highest salary in baseball didn’t sit too well with some baseball “traditionalists,” as it was — and when his weight, injuries and cocaine usage got the better of Parker in the early 80s, the high salary became a talking point for disgruntled Pittsburgh fans, who were only too happy to let him know that they weren’t getting their money’s worth.

There’s a famous photo of Parker from April 1976, where he’s wearing a custom-made t-shirt emblazoned with, “If you hear any noise it’s just me and the boys boppin’,” a slight paraphrasing of a lyric from Parliament’s late ’75 jam “Mothership Connection”.

While Parker wasn’t exactly the baseball version of P-Funk leader George Clinton, their career arcs do have some similarities. Both burned extremely hot early on, and their brilliant output fostered what were perhaps unreasonable expectations among their respective fans. Both men succumbed to a combination of overwork and cocaine abuse; and when both staged impressive comebacks — Clinton with “Atomic Dog,” Parker with the mid-80s Reds — the general reaction wasn’t so much of a celebratory “Welcome back!” as a shrugged, “Hey, you were supposed to be doing this all along!”

Having abandoned baseball for punk rock by then, I wasn’t paying much attention in 1985, the year Parker’s gifts (at least in the hitting department) suddenly seemed to return to him at the age of 34. I didn’t watch him play for the Reds, or see him win his second World Series ring in 1989 as a member of the Oakland A’s.

I know he had some unhappy times in Pittsburgh, but he’ll always be a Pirate to me, part of the Bucs’ two-decade run of brilliant and proud dark-skinned players that included Roberto Clemente, Willie Stargell and Dock Ellis.

Frankly, seeing him in any uniform other than one of the Pirates’ 36 combinations of black, gold and white seems somehow wrong and off-putting to me, like Curtis Mayfield wearing a Spuds McKenzie t-shirt.

Dave Parker’s one of my all-time favorite players, and he posted some very good numbers indeed over the course of his 19-year career — finishing with a .290 batting average, 339 homers and1493 RBI — but I’m probably not the most reliable or convincing advocate for his Hall of Fame induction, since I only really saw him play in the 1970s, back when he oozed greatness from every pore.

And I know that there are many folks out there who’ve crunched his numbers and declared him to be less than Cooperstown material, as well as those who think his drug use and defiant attitude rendered him unworthy of inclusion in such an august institution. All I can say to them, and to you, is this: If there was a way to measure sheer swaggering badassery, and the backing up thereof, Dave Parker would be up there on the all-time leader board… and that alone qualifies him for enshrinement in my personal Hall of Fame.

ABOUT THE ARTIST

Dan Epstein is an award-winning journalist, writer, editor, raconteur and renaissance man, whose acclaimed book Big Hair and Plastic Grass: A Funky Ride Through Baseball and America in the Swinging ‘70s, is now out in paperback, and whose rock n’ roll baseball column “High and Tight” appears weekly on RollingStone.com.

You can find him on the web at http://www.bighairplasticgrass.com/ and http://www.lavieenrobe.com/, follow him on Twitter at @BigHairPlasGras, and join in the swingin’ 70s fun over on Facebook. He lives in Los Angeles with his girlfriend Katie and his cat Oscar Claudell.

Dave Parker Talks Hall of Fame

This time of year, you hear plenty of talk about who should be in the Hall of Fame and who shouldn't.

So when I heard from a buddy of mine that he was going to see Dave Parker make an appearance in Fort Wayne, Indiana, I knew immediately that if "The Cobra" talked to the media...he'd make his opinion on his Hall of Fame credentials known to whoever would listen.

Thankfully, Reggie Hayes from The News-Sentinel was there and, thankfully, Parker did not disappoint.

Here are some highlights from what baseball's first million dollar player had to say.

"I figure I was the most dominant player through my era.  I'm not in the Hall of Fame, but all the Hall of Famers know what I brought to the table. My numbers are as good as most Hall of Famers who went in over the last five or six years. I just hope I get in while I'm vertical.”

“It couldn't be because I was unquotable. It couldn't be because of the numbers, because my numbers are there. It's political, for whatever reason.”

“I was one of the most quotable guys in baseball.  'When the leaves turn brown, I'll be wearing the batting crown.'"

Nicely done, Cobra.

I said it before and I'll say it again...if baseball had a "Badass Hall of Fame”, Dave Parker would have made it in long ago.

First ballot.

His toothy grin would surely be up on that stage praising Willie Stargell and condemning Marge Schott. Sitting behind him in whatever the “Badass Hall of Fame” requires inductees to wear (I imagine a blazer and a fedora…perhaps accented with a cane) would be such luminaries as Dick Allen and Albert Belle.

A seven-time All-Star, the 1978 National League MVP collected 2712 hits, hit 339 home runs and knocked in 1493 runs during his career. But, unfortunately, this past Hall of Fame voting cycle was the last for Parker.

So, until that “Badass Hall of Fame” gets built…we’ll have to just wonder what the career .290 hitter would have had in store for us when he gave his speech. But does he lose points for pitching 7-Up?

Cooperstown 2011: Dave Parker

DAVE PARKER
Fifteenth Year on Ballot  (15.2%)

PLAYING CAREER: Pittsburgh Pirates (1973–1983), Cincinnati Reds (1984–1987), Oakland Athletics (1988–1989), Milwaukee Brewers (1990), California Angels (1991) and Toronto Blue Jays (1991)

ACHIEVEMENTS:  Career batting average of .290 with 2712 hits, 339 home runs and 1493 RBI.  1978 National League Most Valuable Player.  Six seasons (five consecutive) with a .300 or higher batting average.  Back-to-back batting titles in 1977 (.338) and 1978 (.334).  Four seasons with 100-plus RBI.  Two-time World Series champion (1979 and 1989), seven-time All-Star (1977, 1979-1981, 1985-1986 and 1990) and three-time Gold Glove Award winner (1977-1979).

WHAT THEY'RE SAYING ON TWITTER:

@MLBreports:  Dave Parker's last year on the ballot. Hope you get in cobra.

@JeffFletcherAOL: Dave Parker doesn't get enough talk for his HOF credentials.

@DaneFletcher:  Dave Parker deserves spot in Hall

HOVG THOUGHTS:  If there was a “Badass Hall of Fame”, Dave Parker would have made it in long ago.  First ballot.  His toothy grin would surely be up on that stage praising Willie Stargell and condemning Marge Schott. Sitting behind him in whatever the “Badass Hall of Fame” requires inductees to wear (I imagine a blazer and a fedora…perhaps accented with a cane) would be such luminaries as Dick Allen and Albert Belle. 

As it stands, there are only seven Hall eligible players with more hits that Parker’s 2712…and three of them (Rafael Palmeiro, Harold Baines and Roberto Alomar) are on this year’s ballot. A seven-time All-Star, Parker hit 339 home runs and knocked in 1493 runs. Only Baines, Palmeiro and another member of this year’s ballot, Fred McGriff, have more and are Hall eligible.  Unfortunately, this is Parker’s last time that he’s appeared on the Hall of Fame ballot and he's never even approached a third of the votes needed for induction.  So, until that “Badass Hall of Fame” gets built…we’ll have to just wonder what the career .290 hitter would have had in store for us when he gave his speech.

Hall of Fame 2010: Dave Parker

From now until the Baseball Hall of Fame Class of 2010 is announced, The Hall is going to be breaking down each candidate. Some write ups will be lengthy...some will be the opposite. Some will be brand new pieces...some will be re-hashes of previous pieces.

If there was a “Badass Hall of Fame”, Dave Parker would have made it in long ago.

First ballot.

His toothy grin would surely be up on that stage praising Willie Stargell and condemning Marge Schott. Sitting behind him in whatever the “Badass Hall of Fame” requires inductees to wear (I imagine a blazer and a fedora…perhaps accented with a cane) would be such luminaries as Dick Allen and Albert Belle.

No doubt, Parker would bring up that collision with John Stearns during his MVP season of 1978 that broke his jaw and cheekbone. Surely, he’d talk about his return two weeks later when he stepped into the plate wearing a goalie-style mask.

Perhaps he’d mention whether or not that kept him from sneaking smokes in the dugout. Maybe we'd even hear about the battles he had with his weight and the Pittsburgh drug trial of 1985.

Parker was a rebel…nothing like his predecessor in rightfield for the Pirates Roberto Clemente. “The Cobra” played mean and looked meaner.

Early in his career, he could go toe to toe with Stargell when it came to knocking the ball out of the park, he had the hitting prowess to match former teammates Al Oliver and Bill Madlock at the plate and at 6’5” he was surprisingly nimble.

Add to that his cannon for an arm, three Gold Gloves and Parker possessed many of the tools it takes to be a Hall of Famer…”Badass” or otherwise.

As it stands, there are only seven Hall eligible players with more hits that Parker’s 2712…and three of them (Harold Baines, Andre Dawson and Roberto Alomar) are on this year’s ballot. A seven-time All-Star, Parker hit 339 home runs and knocked in 1493 runs. Only Baines, Dawson and fellow member of this year’s ballot Fred McGriff have more and are Hall eligible.

Unfortunately, this is Parker’s 14th time that he’s appeared on the Hall of Fame ballot and never has he even approached a third of the votes needed for induction.

So, until that “Badass Hall of Fame” gets built…we’ll have to just wonder what the career .290 hitter would have had in store for us when he gave his speech.