Sunday, March 21, 1999
In judging the great athletes of this century, how can you compare Gordie Howe's 32 years as a hockey player to
Nadia Comaneci's one day as a gymnast?
You can't. But, in fairness, you must. Comaneci had only that one afternoon in the Montreal Forum during the 1976 Olympics to show off her skills, and that's how she must be judged. She turned in a perfect 10 and so her moment was one of absolute brilliance, just as Howe's 32 years as hockey's finest player were.
Tricky stuff, but the only right way to do it.
This brings us to Gates Brown and the Michigan Sports Hall of Fame. I don't know how the voting goes -- how many votes he gets or if he is getting any at all. The problem is, he was never a big star -- a regular who put up big numbers in his career.
And yet, what he did, like Nadia Comaneci, was very special. He was the premier pinch-hitter in the history of the American League -- the No. 1 man coming off the bench and delivering in one of the most critical roles in the game of baseball.
In other words, he was asked to do it when it counted -- when the games were on the line. And he delivered like no one else in his league.
He got 107 pinch hits and 16 pinch-hit home runs, both American League records. He is most proudest of his 74 pinch-hit RBI.
"No one will ever know how many games he affected because the other managers knew he was in the dugout and would arrange their strategy to keep him off the field," former Tigers pitcher Earl Wilson said.
And this, too, is the problem.
Many of the voters don't know much about Gates Brown. Not all saw him play. He is viewed as another guy on the 1968 champions -- yes, a guy who came through when it counted but not a major star. Yet, they put in Mickey Stanley with a .248 career batting average. Stanley was a fine outfielder and wowed the world by switching from center field to shortstop for the 1968 World Series.
Brown had as much of an impact on that team as Stanley did -- more, in some respects. He was considered a bench hitter and this is eminently unfair. He played 13 years and they would not have kept him around that long unless he was an important member of the team.
But how do we get him elected, except through columns like this one. It was this way with Bob Reynolds. He was as great a broadcaster as this state has known, but he was largely forgotten by the voters. That was no one's fault; just how it was. Someone, such as an ancient sports writer, had to come forward and remind the voters of Reynolds' contributions to sports in our state.
The Michigan Sports Hall of Fame has a "Legend's Committee," so I am appealing to them to consider The Gater -- a good man, an earnest man and a man who has never received the kind of credit he deserved for such a distinguished career in our town. He has never been one to promote himself, so I guess I'm doing it for him, and I am doing it easily because I think he is worthy of consideration.
Remember where he came from -- a life behind prison walls -- and what he made of himself. His story is a good one, very real, very inspiring, worthy of attention.
Cecil Fielder might be gone, but he is not forgotten. Not everyone understood the big guy or got along with him. He could be a tough one to get close to. He liked his privacy.
It should be known now that when Willie Horton worked for the Police Athletic League in Detroit, Cecil Fielder gave him more than $200,000 for the program, including one of his endorsement contracts.
"He kept the program going and was also a hands-on guy," Horton said. "He'd go into the juvenile homes with me, and even worked with some of the gangs around the city. He was another Babe Ruth."
Another Babe Ruth?
"Yeah," Horton said. "He talked to one troubled kid and made him promise he'd straighten out if Cecil hit a home run that night, and that's just what he did -- he put a ball into the left-field seats. The thing is, he always wanted this stuff to be kept quiet."
Maybe one day, Fielder also will be a candidate for the Michigan Sports Hall of Fame. He'll get my vote.