ESPN MLB

It’s a common narrative that once major teams started to integrate their rosters in 1947, it was the beginning of the end for Negro League baseball. While this obviously did not do much to help the Negro Leagues, there is a bit more to the story.

In 1947 the Negro Leagues were split into two leagues, just like Major League Baseball -- the Negro National League and the Negro American League. The NNL collapsed in 1948, but the NAL lived on in some form until 1963. Why do many people directly connect the demise of the Negro Leagues to integration, particularly when the Negro Leagues survived for more than 15 years? If they were able to make it through the intervening years, what finally led to the collapse in 1963?

First, it should probably be noted that the majors integrated rather slowly. Even though the Cleveland Indians added Larry Doby just 11 weeks after Jackie Robinson, the final team didn’t integrate until the Boston Red Sox added Pumpsie Green in 1959. Even teams that integrated often added just a handful of players, with small numbers in their minor league systems as well.

Integration did have an extremely negative impact on the Negro Leagues in the sense that it poached their star players. Think about why the major leagues are more popular today than the minors -- the majors are where the big guns play. When all of the stars (and there were many) left the Negro Leagues, there was a less exciting team on the field in many Negro League cities.

Newly integrated major league teams were also very popular with African American fans. This left many columnists that wrote for African American newspapers with a dilemma: They wanted to encourage readers to attend the major league games, yet knew that would seriously damage Negro League game attendance. These writers knew that for many major league owners, economics were one of the primary interests. If integration could bring them more money, and more success on the field, they were more likely to embrace African American players.

Many of these writers tried to strike a balance between covering both Negro League games and major league games. For example, in Cleveland, writer John Fuster told readers that he made sure to attend both Indians and Buckeyes games. Yet as he told readers to budget money for both teams, he also wrote that the Negro Leagues were a reminder of a segregated past -- a past he wanted to leave behind. This speaks to the way the media played a role in baseball during the late 1940s and early 1950s. Negro League teams relied on the African American press for coverage. You wouldn’t find much information on their games in the primarily white daily papers, and you definitely wouldn’t be able to follow them on the radio. As the papers focused their attention on the major league teams, to the detriment of Negro League coverage, it left these teams at a disadvantage. The new medium of television also provided another outlet for the broadcast of major league games, something that could not be said for Negro League games.

There were some people that argued the Negro Leagues were a vital talent pool for the majors, a way for teams to discover new African American talent. As Negro League baseball limped into the 1950s, it tried to change its model. There was more barnstorming -- teams traveled around the country playing different teams in different cities. Some teams tried to attract attention by adding women to their rosters. The Indianapolis Clowns signed infielder Toni Stone in 1953 to play second base (where Hank Aaron had played for the Clowns just a couple years before), and her presence on the team did boost attendance. (Other women were added during the 1950s as well). It soon became clear that the league just didn’t have the talent and the fan base to continue. The core of the league in the '50s included Kansas City, Birmingham, Memphis and Detroit. Other teams in Mobile, New Orleans and Raleigh came and went. The league struggled on until 1963, and when it finally folded many fans hadn’t even realized the league was still in existence.

One may ask why more people don’t realize that the Negro American League survived for as long as it did. A simple explanation may be that the Negro Leagues were smaller and more mobile than they were prior to integration. With fewer teams, fewer stars, and teams that spent much of their time barnstorming, it became difficult to follow. The changes in media clearly hurt as well.

While a segregated institution should never be lamented, there were possible negative implications to the end of the Negro Leagues. With the slow integration of major league teams during the 1950s, it meant that African American players had fewer opportunities to enter the game. Even today, the percentage of African American players in the majors is at its lowest level in decades. The number of African American fans in attendance has fallen dramatically over that same time period.

It’s important to remember the Negro Leagues and their contribution to the baseball history, particularly the fact that the Leagues managed to survive in some form beyond 1947. It shows the complex history of baseball integration, and that things didn’t immediately change following Jackie Robinson's debut.

Stephanie Liscio is the author of "Integrating Cleveland Baseball" and is pursuing her Ph.D. in history. You can follow her on Twitter @stephanieliscio and read more of her at the It's Pronounced "Lajaway" blog.

Yesterday, in recognition of Hispanic Heritage Month, we talked about one person's list -- mine alone -- for the AL team's all-time greats of Hispanic heritage, so naturally enough, let's turn to the senior circuit and look at the best of the National League's teams.

Arizona Diamondbacks: Although a recent expansion addition to the circuit, the Snakes have a clear favorite in Luis Gonzalez, who as recently as the All-Star break was inducted into the Hispanic Heritage Baseball Museum Hall of Fame. Gonzo's also the man who beat Mariano Rivera in the ninth inning of Game Seven of the 2001 World Series, a postseason feat unlikely to be forgotten any time soon.

Atlanta Braves: If you make the mistake of thinking this is about Latin America versus what is or isn't culturally Hispanic, you might count Andruw Jones, but the Netherlands Antilles aren't culturally Spanish or Portuguese. Among the Braves' Hispanic players, the choices boil down to Dominican bopper Rico Carty or catcher Javy Lopez of Puerto Rico. While the 'Beeg Boy' won the 1970 batting title, I'll go with Lopez for his playing a key role on the great teams of the Braves' recent dynasty.

Chicago Cubs: Arguments over how he got there will go on for as long as we're willing to debate the impact of PEDs on performance, but Dominican Sammy Sosa's easily the most productive player to call Wrigley Field home. His 545 homers top all Cubs ever, and his .569 SLG as a Cub is second only to Hack Wilson.

Cincinnati Reds: You can make arguments for either of two great Latin players who were key players for the Big Red Machine: first baseman Tony Perez of Cuba, or Venezuelan shortstop Davey Concepcion. Concepcion was a career Red, so 19 years in the Queen City puts the nimble defender high up on the Reds' al-time counting stats, while “Big Doggie” moved around a bit, but was mostly, essentially, a Red. Per WAR, it'd Perez's place, but I'd also cite Joe Posnanski's fine The Machine, which helps remind us today how important Perez was then to a team stuffed with stars.

Colorado Rockies: The Rockies have never had a shortage of great Latin players, but perhaps surprisingly, none of them have had long careers in Denver. Ubaldo Jimenez would have been an easy choice if he hadn't already been traded away, while Mexico's Vinny Castilla mashed 239 homers in nine seasons manning the hot corner. However, let's use this as an opportunity to give well-traveled Andres Galarraga some love, because the Big Cat was the team's first star by winning the batting title in the franchise's inaugural season in 1993.

Florida Marlins: Between going by teams and the near-impossibility of anyone sticking around as a Fish for any great length of time, it makes for a short list, but Dominican Hanley Ramirez makes for a relatively easy selection, although you can offer honorable mentions to Luis Castillo, Miguel Cabrera, Anibal Sanchez and Livan Hernandez for their contributions to the Marlins' strange, episodic history.

Houston Astros: Given a choice between Cesar Cedeno and Jose Cruz, you could easily pick either player and have good reason to. Cedeno was a wonderful center fielder and may well be the least well-remembered great player of the '70s, while Cruz was the gifted all-around hitter hurt badly by a career almost entirely spent shackled by the Astrodome. I'm slightly biased towards Cruz (a personal favorite back in the day), but for purposes of this sort of exercise, it's easy to leave this as a tie.

Los Angeles Dodgers: While you could concoct an argument for Pedro Guerrero because he was one of the best bats of the '80s, this is a slam dunk: Fernandomania, baby! Fernando Valenzuela's breakthrough was a national phenomenon, as the Mexican southpaw provided both peerless pitching early in his career -- winning the Cy Young and Rookie of the Year Awards in 1981 – with unprecedented box-office and media value in Los Angeles. His unique delivery and nifty screwball are things you had to see to believe, putting him on a short list of pitchers you never forgot after watching him work.

Milwaukee Brewers: It isn't a strong field, but it wasn't Teddy Higuera's fault that his career flamed out early, as injuries sapped the Mexican hurler's career early on. He still ranks third all-time in wins for the team while handily leading their pitchers in career WAR as a Brewer, not too shabby for what was essentially a six-year run spent in relative obscurity.

New York Mets: Carlos Beltran wins via WAR, but he's also been tabbed as the Royals' best, while better health from Johan Santana would have made him worth choosing. So let's use the opportunity to cite Jesse Orosco, who holds the all-time record for games pitched on a career.

Philadelphia Phillies: It's perhaps characteristic of the franchise and city that its greatest Latin player, Venezuelan Bobby Abreu, was dumped on the Yankees at the deadline in 2006 -- for nothing, effectively -- but Abreu's brand of patience and power made him an offensive keystone for nine years, hitting .303/.416/.513.

Pittsburgh Pirates: Roberto Clemente, the easiest great to note in a wide field of greats, and the first Latin to win an MVP award in 1966.

St. Louis Cardinals: Albert Pujols has become as easy a selection as Clemente, but with a career that's still going strong, the question best asked might be whether or not the man who will unseat Lou Gehrig on all-time lists walks and plays among us.

San Diego Padres: Strangely enough, the border town franchise doesn't have a storied history where its Latin talent is concerned, but native son Adrian Gonzalez makes for a good fit, even with his recent shuffle to Boston.

San Francisco Giants: There's a fun debate to be had over whether this ought to be the Baby Bull, Orlando Cepeda or their Dominican ace of the '60s, Juan Marichal. Much like Galarraga and Perez, Cepeda was a hard-hitting first baseman who got around -- he immediately followed Clemente as the NL MVP in 1967, for the Cardinals, but started out winning the Rookie of the Year award in 1958 (second in this as well, as Luis Aparicio was the first to win in 1956 with the White Sox). Against that, Marichal had six 20-win seasons and 238 victories for San Francisco while contributing the highest Giants WAR pitching tally since Christy Mathewson. Whether as a matter of career value or peak value as a Giant, I think you have to go with Marichal.

Washington Nationals: Vladi Guerrero has already gotten credit as an Angel, but since this is the franchise stolen from Montreal, stealing the Impaler from their list might seem an additional injustice. However, doing so opens the field to tab Nicaragua's greatest player, El Presidente. In a 23-year career, Dennis Martinez won 100 or more games with both the Orioles and Expos, pitched the only perfect game thrown by a Latin pitcher, and nearly helped deliver Cleveland a long-awaited championship as a 40-year-old workhorse in 1995.

Christina Kahrl covers baseball for ESPN.com. You can follow her on Twitter.

In the spirit of the season with Hispanic Heritage Month, let’s take a look at the all-time best players of Latin descent for each of the American League teams.

Baltimore Orioles: Mike Cuellar of Cuba. Cuellar only had an eight-year run in Baltimore, and arrived well after he’d turned 30, but the O’s saw a workhorse, and innings and wins are what they got. Cuellar became the first Latin pitcher to win the Cy Young Award when he split it with Denny McClain in 1969 -- his first year as an Oriole. He went on to notch 143 wins during his time in Baltimore, and also delivered WAR seasons worth 2.5 wins or more in five of his first six seasons.

Boston Red Sox: Pedro Martinez of the Dominican Republic. When you can count Manny Ramirez and Luis Tiant among the runners-up, you know you’ve got a full field, but three Cy Young awards and a career 2.52 ERA for the Red Sox over seven seasons during the age of injection-enabled offense puts Pedro on a plane all his own.

Chicago White Sox: Minnie Minoso of Cuba. In his various stints with the White Sox, the Cuban Comet managed to miss the team’s lone pennant in 1959, but the vast majority of his career value (42.7 WAR) came from his the nine seasons in his first two incarnations with the Sox (1951-57, 1960-61); there were three more yet to come. There’s room for an honorable mention for Venezuelan shortstop Luis Aparicio (31.5 WAR), but like Minoso, he spent chunks of his career in other unis.

Cleveland Indians: In another full field, you could pick Venezuela’s Omar Vizquel or Mexican-American Mike Garcia; Garcia was a rotation regular for the 1950's Tribe, and he’s a reasonable choice for the 32.4 WAR, 3.27 ERA and 142 wins he gave them. However, his value on the mound was essentially equal to Manny Ramirez’s 32.8 WAR he produced with his bat in almost eight seasons with the Indians. Surprising nobody, Manny’s WAR numbers go down when you count his defense, but that production at the plate puts the Dominican immigrant among the 10 most productive Indian bats of all time.

Detroit Tigers: It might be cause for surprise, but the Tigers are one of the very few teams from among the league’s original eight who have yet to boast a long-term Latin star. Venezuela’s Miguel Cabrera has only just become the franchise’s first Latin player to accumulate 20 career WAR with the Kitties, and he still hasn’t spent half of his career in Detroit. One man worthy of an honorable mention is Willie Hernandez, for his MVP- and Cy-winning 1984 season, but the Motor City was the Puerto Rican Hernandez’s third stop, and his career didn’t make it to the ’90s.

Kansas City Royals: It’s been so long since Carlos Beltran of Puerto Rico played for the Royals that you might forget he was almost every bit the MVP-caliber player there as he’d get more recognition for in Houston and New York. His 2003 season (7.3 WAR) rates among the 10 greatest seasons by a Royals position player, a list that has five different George Brett seasons and four other guys besides Beltran on it. Before the season, you might have wanted to lean towards Mexico’ Joakim Soria, but a bumpy 2011 was enough for me to play wait and see.

Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim: The Angels’ roster has been characterized by so much turnover historically that it’s been hard for anyone to settle in and pile up big career totals as a Halo, something that only recently changed with Tim Salmon and Garret Anderson. So while Vladimir Guerrero of the Dominican Republic has played less than half of his career in Anaheim, he’s pretty much by his lonesome for spending so much of his productive career there.

Minnesota Twins: One of the other reasons tabbing Vladi as an Angel was necessary is because Panama’s Rod Carew did most of his damage during his long career with the Twins. If you remember the fleet-footed old man for his 3,000th hit at the end of his career back in 1985, you might remember him as an Angel, but more than 2,000 of those hits came hitting in the frosty confines of Minnesota’s old Metropolitan Stadium, as unlikely a landing spot for a youngster from the Canal Zone as you might imagine.

New York Yankees: You might fidget over Lefty Gomez, who was Portuguese and Spanish on his father’s side and all-Californian enough to merit the nickname “Goofy,” and Dominican Alex Rodriguez and Puerto Rico’s Jorge Posada would be easy choices in other organizations. But with almost 56 WAR contributed to one pinstriped contender after another, the man who has delivered the most career value is Panama’s Mariano Rivera.

Oakland Athletics: It’s important not to forget that Reggie Jackson claims Hispanic heritage on his mother’s side, but the key player from the Big Green Machine of the ’70s who deserves a shoutout here is Cuba’s Bert Campaneris. With 649 career steals, Campy leads all Latin ballplayers while ranking 14th overall, and his 43.1 career WAR suggests how much value he added in the field as well as on the bases.

Seattle Mariners: Perhaps no player more perfectly captures Puerto Rico’s complicated relationship with the United States than Edgar Martinez, who was born in New York City but grew up on the island. Whatever label you care to apply, anyone can take pride in the definitive DH’s career after he hit .312/.418/.515 while producing 66.9 WAR at the plate.

Tampa Bay Rays: With an existence that doesn’t even stretch back two full decades yet, it might be premature to tab an all-time great Latin Ray, but Dominicans Carlos Pena and Julio Lugo lead the pack of notables, with Cuba’s Rolando Arrojo leading the pitchers.

Texas Rangers: Ivan Rodriguez’s career may well be winding down, and he might be a decade removed from his last full season in Arlington, but Pudge has been the pride of Puerto Rico as the greatest position player in Rangers history, topping all Texas players with 48.6 WAR. He’s long since punched his own ticket to Cooperstown.

Toronto Blue Jays: As one of the first franchises to truly invest in Dominican talent, it should come as no surprise that some of the best ballplayers in Blue Jays history came from the island: infielder Tony Fernandez, slugger George Bell and pitcher Juan Guzman. But the Jays also came away with a ton of talent from Puerto Rico, starting with Carlos Delgado and Roberto Alomar. If you go by WAR, it should be Delgado, but Alomar’s Gold Glove-studded career as a fielder is one of the great causes for debate over the strengths and limitations of both scouting and statistical analysis of defense. For the purposes of this sort of exercise, let’s give the new Hall of Famer his due and tab Alomar.

On Friday, we’ll turn to the National League and give the 16 greats of those franchises their props.

Christina Kahrl covers baseball for ESPN.com. You can follow her on Twitter.

No team has used fewer lefty relievers than Ron Roenicke’s Milwaukee Brewers this season. Left-handed Brewer relievers have thrown a league-low 27 innings, and the 128 batters faced is also the lowest mark in the majors. Their 44 lefty relief appearances is the National League low. And right nowt, the Brewers don’t even have a lefty reliever on the staff. So this must be cause for panic in today’s age of situational hyperawareness, right?

Well, if history’s any guide, maybe, but we’ll get to that. However, the Brewers’ disdain for situational lefties this season definitely isn’t historic -- not for a big-league staff, not for a playoff team, and not even for a playoff team from within the last decade. And Roenicke's reasoning might owe plenty to where he spent 11 seasons coaching before landing the Brewers’ job -- with the Angels of Anaheim in the vicinity of Los Angeles.

First, here’s the all-time list of lefty-less pens:

So, this isn’t even a low-water mark for going lefty-less in Milwaukee, as Ned Yost’s ’04 squad managed a last-place finish. The 1969 Phillies were a fifth-place club out of six, and destined for worse things before things got better. The 1952 Philadelphia A’s fared better, finishing fourth in the AL, the franchise’s last winning season in Philly.

And then there are the two playoff teams: The ill-fated ’84 Cubs and Mike Scioscia’s 2004 Angels -- a club that just happened to employ one Ronald Jon Roenicke as its third-base coach.

While Jim Frey went to the postseason without a lefty in the Cubs’ pen in 1984, he did wind up throwing southpaw Steve Trout at the Pads in relief in the decisive seventh inning of Game 5 -- on three days’ rest after he’d started Game 2. The Pads had already built a 6-3 lead, but Trout retired the two lefty batters he faced, Graig Nettles and Terry Kennedy. So the Cubs weren’t entirely lefty-less in the postseason, just ill-starred as always.

The 2004 Angels were in much the same situation: The only lefty who appeared in the postseason for them was Jarrod Washburn in Game 3, after he’d already started Game 1 three days earlier. Even then, using him was less a matter of choice than need. Washburn came into the game with two outs, Pokey Reese in scoring position, and David Ortiz at the plate. Papi pounded Washburn’s first pitch out of the park, and that was the end of the 2004 Angels' season.

The 2004 Brewers and 1984 Cubs pointedly didn’t carry a designated lefty reliever in their bullpen, and that’s where their situations differ a bit from Roenicke’s Brewers. Roenicke has already proved willing to bump his fifth starter, lefty Chris Narveson to relief work when the schedule permits skipping Narveson in the rotation. It seems fairly likely that if the Brewers are going to carry a southpaw in the pen in October, it’ll be Narveson, and not some mystery man from the farm system.

That latter option is possible -- Mitch Stetter, Zach Braddock or Manny Parra could already be on the Brewers’ postseason roster despite their unavailability for October action, and via the rules dodge Keith Law explained a few years back Milwaukee could add someone from within the organization. However, the Brewers don’t have a left-handed K-Rod to slip onto the postseason roster. Because of injuries or ineffectiveness, the Brewers may have had to go without a southpaw reliever for much of the season, but Roenicke shouldn’t be without one in October.

Christina Kahrl covers baseball for ESPN.com. You can follow her on Twitter. Thanks to Rob McQuown of Baseball Prospectus for research assistance.

Hitting streaks are fun. Long streaks like Dan Uggla's are weird little statistical anomalies that require an immense amount of luck to achieve, but they are still extremely interesting to follow. The pressure on ballplayers who have passed the mystical 30-game mark is incredible, and every at-bat takes on more and more symbolic importance as a streak continues.

That said, while the list of long streaks is headlined by great players like Joe DiMaggio, Willie Keeler, Pete Rose, George Sisler, Ty Cobb, Paul Molitor, Rogers Hornsby and Bill Dahlen, it also contains random long streaks by less popular players like Tommy Holmes, Luis Castillo, George McQuinn, Benito Santiago and even the infamous Hal Chase.

With a first-inning single against the Cubs, Uggla became just the 23rd player in baseball history to get a hit in at least 33 consecutive games. He tacked on a home run in the fourth to add an exclamation point to his streak-extending day.

It has been an amazing turnaround for Uggla, who was hitting .173/.241/.327 through the Fourth of July. Since Independence Day, it has been all fireworks for the Braves second baseman. He's hit an astounding .376/.434/.761 since then, becoming the middle-of-the-order run-producer the Braves envisioned he’d be when they traded for him this offseason and signed him to a five-year extension.

Indeed, Uggla's incredible stretch has fueled the Braves’ offense in the long weeks since, as it has jumped from producing 3.93 runs per game before Uggla's streak to 4.79 since. He has helped them weather injuries to Brian McCann, Chipper Jones and the struggles (due to injury) of Jason Heyward. Given how white-hot he's been over the past month-plus, Braves fans have to be feeling much better about both their prospects for this season and Uggla's ability to play up to his $62 million deal over the long term.

Yet amazingly enough, Uggla dug himself into such a huge hole at the start of the year that his season line still looks horrible. He's batting just .232 on the year with an on-base percentage of .299. All of the advanced metrics agree that his fielding is absolutely horrible -- as it always has been -- pegging him somewhere around 10-13 runs below average so far. His line-drive percentage despite his recovery remains at a career-low 14 percent, his popup rate is still tied for his career high, and his GB/FB ratio remains 10 percent higher than any time since his rookie season.

It was a perfect storm of season-opening awfulness that still has not been properly explained, but Uggla has been doggedly clawing his way back since. While the defense won't improve, it's almost a given that he will continue to add value to the Braves down the stretch and into October if they hold on to the wild-card slot. His horrific April, May and June were huge aberrations in the context of his full career, as he struggled to make good contact.

Still, this season looks bad. Among all the players in major league history with at least 33-game hitting streaks, Uggla ranks dead last in OBP by a cool 21 points. His nearest rival, Chase, played in 1907 during the Deadball Era, when the entire league had an OBP of just .302. Uggla also has the third-worst OPS of any player on the list (.752), with little hope of catching Wee Willie Keeler (.783).

His production during the streak itself has been incredible, though. Among the 15 long streaks that we have data for, Uggla's 1.166 OPS ranks fifth behind just those marks of Hornsby, Holmes, Joltin' Joe and Molitor. Regardless of what he does from here on out, Uggla will be one of the most unlikely members of this exclusive club.

PHOTO OF THE DAY
The Common Man writes for The Platoon Advantage, part of the SweetSpot network, and has a 476-day Tweeting streak going.

The bronze might be on the corner of Sheffield and Addison instead of in Cooperstown, but the statue of Ron Santo unveiled on Wednesday cements his place in baseball history where it was made, in the heart of Wrigleyville on Chicago's north side.

As gestures go, it's a nice touch, as Santo's likeness in bronze now joins those of Billy Williams and Ernie Banks. Fergie Jenkins' statue can't be far behind -- then all four great players from the ill-starred Cubs of the late '60s and early '70s will be honored at Wrigley. Statues are beginning to catch up to retired numbers; the Cubs have retired just six numbers to honor seven players (counting the MLB-wide honor accorded Jackie Robinson's No. 42): Williams (No. 26), Banks (No. 14), Santo (No. 10), Jenkins and Maddux (both wearing No. 31), and Ryne Sandberg's No. 23.

That may seem slightly strange, or just reflective of the Cubs' decades of haplessness. But it's also something Santo deserved as one of the game's all-time best third basemen, and in the absence of tribute elsewhere to Santo's place in the game's history, the statue and the retired number are what will have to do for now.

Santo's place as an all-time great has been acknowledged more in sabermetric circles than in the mainstream, but the raw numbers aren't exactly shabby: 342 home runs, a career .277/.362/.464 line generated while batting during one of the game's offensive doldrums of the high-mound '60s. Years before the sabermetrics revolution, Santo was an OBP star, leading the league in walks four times, twice in OBP. He was also remarkably durable, playing in 154 games or more in 11 straight seasons; if you recognize that health is a skill as valuable as any other, Santo had it, but playing for Leo Durocher, you pretty much had to.

Break out the more advanced stats, and you can get an even greater respect for his value: among players who spent at least 60 percent of their careers at third base since World War II (and integration in '47), Santo ranks as one of the top 10 third basemen via WAR, if you check the table.

Obviously, there are flaws to this sort of quick-and-dirty exercise. Jay Jaffe's more thorough exercise on third basemen, repeated on the occasion of Santo's passing in December, essentially has Schmidt, Mathews, Boggs, Rolen, Brett, Santo and Jones at the top of his rankings. And it's notable that a year from now we'll be moving Alex Rodriguez onto this list, when A-Rod will have finally played more games at third than short. He'll be knocking everyone -- from Michael Jack Schmidt on -- down a peg.

However you want to slice it, Santo belongs in the conversation, and always has. He's wound up as the first guy on the wrong side of that line between Hall of Famers and everybody else. Maybe that line will move upward with Rolen once his career ends, should the electors not take a shine to him, but if it does that won't be just to either man. The most important thing to note beyond Santo's value in simple tallies is the notion of position scarcity. At a time when third basemen are in short supply, we should be especially sympathetic, because the '60s had much the same problem. Other than Dick Allen's sporadic, oft-bobbled brand of greatness, Santo was the best player in the league at the position, and the guy who, through his peak, was also on the short list for best players in the league, at any position.

The indignity of Santo's absence from the Hall of Fame is one of those institutional mistakes that may never get corrected, but you can hope that isn't so. The BBWAA blew it at every point despite getting multiple bites at this apple, even when given a reprieve after initially blowing it on his first ballot in 1980 -- Santo was in a group of players re-added to the ballot after initially getting dropped for not getting enough votes the first time out. Even restored to the ballot, the writers never gave Santo more than the 43 percent he received in his last year on their ballot in 1998. Iterations of the Veterans Committee placed him first or tied for first on their ballots three different times (in 2005, 2007 and 2009) without ever qualifying him for the Hall, so it isn't like the writers are alone in booting their opportunities to give Santo his props.

Obviously, if Santo finally does get in posthumously as part of the 2012 VC class, it's a long overdue bit of recognition, and just as obviously it will be far too late to have the reliably genial Santo there to accept the honor. At this point, voting for Santo might have as much to do with purging any lingering guilt among the electors as it does with belatedly acknowledging the obvious: Ron Santo belongs in the Hall of Fame. At least in Chicago there's a piece of bronze to provide the man his tribute, today and tomorrow.

Christina Kahrl covers baseball for ESPN.com. You can follow her on Twitter.

Bill Parcells once said, "You are what you are," meaning that if your football team's record is 8-8, whatever circumstances you'd dealt with didn't really mean anything; in the end you were a .500 team. It sounds depressingly pessimistic but the attitude is actually something out of a Zen koan; it strips away attachment and perception and zooms in on the core of what you are. That's more of a performance issue but it gets us pointed in the general direction of baseball uniforms.

For that topic, I prefer this: Be who you are. This speaks more about identity in regard to baseball franchises; more specifically the marketing and branding of each team's personality. Be who you are. By that I mean more than just a discussion of which uniforms you like best. This runs a bit deeper. Because fans, more often that not in my experience, have strong connections to a team's particular logo or color choice, the uniforms those teams wear represent a traditional identity, the inner layer of the core.

Too many franchises have become lost in the marketing jungle. In an effort to be current or edgy some teams are sporting homogenized, corporate colors and logos that seem to deny their histories and traditions. A few might have had logos that were at one point considered hokey or outdated. I say, embrace the hokey. Wear it with pride. All thirty teams have colors and logos that represent their one genuine identity with which fans connect. There is a reason why I see so many fans walking around wearing old hats with former logos. There is a reason those who market the game seem to try and manufacture nostalgia at every turn. It's because we've lost some of it in a haze of generic logos or poorly conceived alternate jerseys which only seem to admit that a much larger mistake was made in the first place. Be who you are.

Here's a list, a subjective one to be sure, of those who embrace their true identities and carry on tradition by wearing them proudly and those who have lost their way and hopefully will soon hear their true selves calling from an overlooked closet in a back room somewhere.

THE TRADITIONALISTS: Yankees, Red Sox, Tigers, Royals, Phillies, Braves, Cardinals, Cubs, Giants, Rockies and Dodgers.

This group is the creme de la creme; the ultimate in uniform and logo identity. Their franchise logos are simple and timeless. Their uniforms are professional, classy, almost elegant. One can imagine that their current caps, uniforms and logos will stay as they are for another hundred years. From older ones like the Yankees and Tigers to newer editions like the Royals and Rockies, this group has found who they are, and their logos and colors are part of that identity.

THOSE ON THE CUSP: Rays, Orioles, Indians, White Sox, Twins, Angels, Rangers, A's, Mariners, Marlins, Nationals, Pirates, Reds and Diamondbacks.

This group is close with only small details still to be ironed out. Have you noticed Matt Wieters' Orioles catching helmet? It's got the old white front cap that reminds one of the O's World Series teams of 1979 and 1983. It's intended to. Same for Joe Mauer's Twins catching helmet. Minnesota's move back to the classic TC caps and the brilliantly huge "Minnie and Paul" shaking hands logo at Target Field is a perfect example of what this post is intended to be about. That logo, maybe it's hokey and a bit 1960s-ish, but it's who the Twins are and that makes it great. It would be nice if the Angels would follow suit and go back to their former blue and red look with the lower case a logo, circa the Brian Downing and Bob Boone teams of the mid-1980s, a look they've revisited a few times this season. The Nationals resurrected the Senators old "Curly W" logo and colors and furthered that identity this year. For better or worse that logo is baseball in Washington. Be who you are.

The Indians, Rangers, Pirates and Reds are all just about where they should be, although despite years of hanging on in Cleveland the Indians' Chief Wahoo logo is still objectionable. The A's and Marlins have found a way to make interesting color choices work for them while the Rays did a wonderful job of tossing out ugly colors and logos and have remade themselves virtually in their infancy. The same can be said of the Mariners and Diamondbacks who likely just need a few more years to establish their true selves after questionable starts. The White Sox could probably be included in "The Traditionalists" group, but in some far off place it feels like they should go back to the red-and-white look worn by Dick Allen and Bill Melton in the early '70s.

THE OFFENDERS: Mets, Blue Jays, Brewers, Astros and Padres.

The Mets are one step away from jumping up to "The Traditionalists" group: all that's left is for them to do away with those awful black jerseys and hats. The Mets have a classic logo and a beautiful clean, blue pinstripe look that would be among the best in the game -- if they'd stop polluting it.

The Blue Jays. Everyone on the team should be dressed like Ernie Whitt or Garth Iorg. Toronto won two World Series with its old Blue Jay bird logo and the light blue and white colors with the split lettering. Be who you are. Their current look is awful. Joe Carter jumped around the bases in a unique and classic look that needs to be brought back. When I look at Jose Bautista wearing number 19 at the Rogers Centre I should see Otto Velez at Exhibition Stadium.

The Brewers' current logo is the absolute worst example we have of a generic, watered-down marketing mistake. The old Barrelman logo that used to be on the side of County Stadium was a classic. The ball in the glove logo of the 1982 AL pennant-winning team speaks even more to the point: that is who the Brewers are. My key point here is that this is not about living in the past or simply yearning for nostalgia. Those logos and looks were the Brewers' real identity, what made them special. I see those logos on hats and tee shirts in the stands every time I watch the Brewers. Their current uniforms and logo might as well say ACME on them. The Twins went from a sterile, indoor field with a weird modern logo to a sparkling new outdoor stadium with their former and true logo placed high above center field as a proud badge of honor. The Brewers have done the complete opposite.

There is nothing wrong with the Astros' current look, it just falls under the corporate homogenization heading. Either go back to the classic Jose Cruz crazy horizontal stripes or -- if that's just too much for your eyes -- then the Rusty Staub/Jimmy Wynn look with the lettering across the chest over the comet, either one. That's who the Astros truly are. Regardless, they should always have orange hats with the star and the classic H logo. Attention incoming ownership: Be who you are.

The same thing goes for the Padres. The Padres are lost. Baseball in San Diego is supposed to be colored brown and gold. Nate Colbert and Dave Winfield wore brown and gold. There were several versions of this look over the years -- pick one. In 1971, Enzo Hernandez had only 12 RBIs in 618 plate appearances while wearing brown and gold. In 1984, Steve Garvey and Kurt Bevacqua rounded the bases with arms raised after big postseason home runs wearing brown and gold. The Padres should never be blue. For better or worse, the Padres and baseball in San Diego should be colored brown and gold. Be who you are.

Follow Steve Berthiaume on Twitter @SBerthiaumeESPN

It’s time to say good-bye to the Wonder Hamster once and for all, because Thursday Matt Stairs announced his retirement. The game’s poorer for it, as baseball’s all-time record-holder for pinch-hit home runs (with 23) shuffles off to card shows and perhaps coaching, memory and memorabilia.

The reasons why we’ll remember Stairs are easy enough to identify, because Stairs was a favorite player for so many and for so many different reasons. First, there’s just the simple image of seeing him step in to bat, because Stairs looks like somebody you know, whether it’s the guy who’s dating your cousin or one in a group of buddies at the bar. As a latter-day John Kruk, he was one of the guys on the diamond who didn’t look like a professional athlete -- instead, he was simply a pro ballplayer.

Of course, the other easy reason was that the well-traveled Stairs probably played for your team at one point or another. Stairs played for 12 different teams -- 13 if you’re given to separating the Expos franchise he debuted for from the Nationals team that he finished with. So you might have jumped on the Stairs bandwagon at any point during his career. The johnny-come-latelies noticed when he was the key pinch-hitter on the Phillies’ pennant-winning teams of 2008 and 2009, but he’d already gotten an introduction to postseason play as far back as 1995 as a pinch hitter for the Red Sox.

Stairs was a great example of what a minor-league player, wearing the sometimes left-handed compliment that he’s “a professional hitter,” can achieve. Stairs started out as an infielder in the Expos’ system in 1989. He lacked the arm for third or the range and footwork for second, occasionally putting up fielding percentages of Butch Hobson-level horror at the hot corner. But he hit for average, drew walks, and had better power and speed than you’d expect from his squat build -- ripping 53 extra-base hits, stealing 23 bases, and drawing 66 walks (against 47 strikeouts) in a full season for Double-A Harrisburg back in 1991. But breaking in with the Expos, creeping up on becoming one of baseball’s best teams, wasn’t easy, especially once he’d been necessarily moved to the outfield at a time when Montreal had Marquis Grissom, Larry Walker and Moises Alou starting, and pinch-hitter extraordinaire John Vander Wal behind them.

So Stairs wandered, getting initially sold to Japan and then to the Red Sox, and finally slipping away to the A’s after the ’95 season when Boston apparently decided they had other uses for his spot on the 40-man. It was in Oakland where Stairs’ legend really began, as he stepped into playing time in ’97 after Mark McGwire and Geronimo Berroa were dealt away, and once it had become obvious that Jose Canseco and Jason Giambi weren’t much use planted in either outfield corner. Stairs made the most of the opportunity, becoming one of the signature “out of nowhere” no-cost or low-cost stars of the franchise subsequently glorified in Michael Lewis’ Moneyball. In his way, he was just the latest variation on Berroa, a professional hitter finally given a chance by a talent-desperate organization. His walk-off, game-winner hammered off of the White Sox’s Keith Foulke in the bottom of the ninth on August 8, 1999 is still one of my single favorite ballgames, even if nobody’s really sure if that obliterated changeup has re-entered orbit yet. It wasn’t the first or last, but it was a signature moment for a man who hit when you handed him a bat.

Stairs was also one of those players who provides evidence against those of us who want to wail about the present, usually to point to a happier past when things were better when they were younger. Bill James’ latest compilation, Solid Fool's Gold, is as thoughtful and interesting and worth owning as anything that springs from his keyboard. But his comments in the essay “The Minor League Pyramid” don’t exactly ring true when he talks about how farm systems today cut off “the Enos Slaughter/Pete Rose type of player ... who really didn’t seem to possess outstanding ability, and would never have been high draft picks or received large bonuses in the current system. What made these players stand out was not that they ran terribly fast or threw tremendously well or were big and strong, but that, when you put them in uniform and let them play, they succeeded.”

Well, maybe things really were better back in the day, but maybe Stairs just happened to be a pretty good example of exactly that kind of ballplayer, and with his retirement, it’s worth noting he wasn’t all that alone in this regard. Isn’t Ben Zobrist that kind of player right now? Or Daniel Murphy? Michael Young? Or even Shane Victorino? Heck, drawing from recent headlines Casey McGehee had been that kind of player before this season’s collapse.

At any rate, Stairs is now retired, and he’ll be missed. Given his remarkable career we certainly won’t see somebody exactly like him on a diamond any time soon. But we will continue to see surprise stars spring up within the game, not because it fails in some new way, but because talent can, and does, create its own opportunities.

Christina Kahrl covers baseball for ESPN.com. You can follow her on Twitter.

Last Sunday the hue and cry went up, as it always does around this time of year. The subject? As ever, the topic was the All-Star Game's rosters, and as ever, they were cause for noisy complaint from people angry about the latest fading all-time great tacked onto the roster -- Chipper Jones this time around -- but also those exasperated with the fans voting Derek Jeter onto the team. And the oversight of Andrew McCutchen? Ludicrous, obviously.

The thing is, every July there are people who are going to declaim that the All-Star roster is a travesty or a crime, a horror visited upon earnest fans, undeserving players, and the (usually spotty) history of the Midsummer Classic. But this year's selections also serve as a useful reminder that we've seen worse -- much, much worse -- among the ranks of All-Stars selected all time.

Figuring out the worst All-Stars of all time can involve a good amount of special pleading or special disdain, and it really depends on which elements of the selection process you want to call out, as well as who you want to slather your particular brand of grief upon. Maybe you want to make the point that fans are stupid, because they voted in Sandy Alomar Jr. in 1991 when he'd been injured a good chunk of the time, and he was hitting just .241/.287/.305 when he was healthy, but in fairness, Alomar was the Rookie of the Year in 1990, and catching was fairly thinly spread (Pudge Rodriguez had only just arrived on the scene).

At least Alomar had something going for him in terms of recent notoriety and position scarcity to help explain why he was voted in. But when you get to the selections made by the industry's working professionals, it isn't like their track record's all that admirable either. Sticking with catchers, what can you say about the inclusion of first-ever Padre All-Star Chris Cannizzaro, a 31-year-old journeyman, on the 1969 team? Cannizzaro hit .220/.290/.297 that year, and that wasn't out of character. But of course he wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last example of unhappy selections made because of the rule that you have to have somebody from every team.

Or say you want to complain about the frequently repeated gesture of including a great player on the way out. This usually doesn't seem that egregious to me, at least back in the time when the game was purely an exhibition. Luis Aparicio in 1971 or 1972, for example, or Cal Ripken Jr. in 2001 -- no, they didn't really belong on merit alone, getting in on career achievement.

Even so, it's fun to mull who the all-time worsts might have been. Usually, these take the shape of top 10 lists, but let's give a full lineup a shot, while leveling the field to include choices of every stripe, those made by fans or by baseball professionals:

C: While Alomar in '91 and Jason Varitek in 2008 represent low points in fan selection history, let's face it, catcher has a ton of alternatives to offer. For example, if you're A's fan you might remember that Jeff Newman was your team's token All-Star in 1979, although he did hit 22 home runs -- and .231/.267/.399 overall. But because I'm of a “pox on all your houses” frame of mind when it comes to pointing the finger at odious choices made by every method for selection, I think we have to go with Chris Cannizzaro of the '69 Padres here, as a great example for why the expectation that every team “must” have an All-Star can be something of a bad joke, and one made worse in expansion seasons, as 1969 was.

1B: While dishonorable mention can go to Ron Coomer of the '99 Twins or Pat Tabler of the '87 Indians, I think the worst possible choice from among first basemen might be Ken Harvey from the 2004 Royals. While he was the K.C. token (as Tabler was the token Indian and Coomer the token Twin in their seasons), what's disgraceful about Harvey's selection is that he was a terrible hitter for a first baseman, offering negligible power and patience, and immobile defense -- he was bulky singles hitter. His .305/.353/.452 line at the break might have seemed promising, but his lack of value at a hitter's position helped make sure his big-league career had just 225 plate appearances left in it. What made his choice especially egregious is that Mike Sweeney (.279/.335/.490) would have at least been defensible, since he'd been a Royals All-Star in each of the previous four seasons, and would be again in 2005.

2B: I'm going with Carlos Garcia of the 1994 Pirates, because hitting .267/.307/.332 at the break is hardly a line worthy of a purported All-Star. Garcia never did make a repeat appearance, even with the advantage of a token Pirate being a necessity -- something that would help Tony Womack a few short years later. But even from this edition of the Bucs, shortstop Jay Bell would have been a better middle-infield choice, having hit .260/.343/.448 at the break. There might still be folks outraged over fans voting in Mark Loretta over Robinson Cano in 2006 -- point taken, but at least Loretta was someone you could argue belonged in the game.

SS: Frankie Zak of the '44 Pirates usually gets mentioned on these sorts of lists, because of the, “Who?” factor, but I sort of look at that oddity as a product of war-time baseball -- the game was at Pittsburgh's Forbes Field that year, and although there were already other Pirates on the roster, using Zak as a reserve saved money at a time when everything was in short supply, including baseball talent. That leaves us with a choice. On the one hand, we have accidental All-Star Alfredo Griffin of the 1984 Blue Jays. The former Rookie of the Year of 1979 was apparently in San Francisco anyway, so when Alan Trammell came up with a bum arm, plugging Griffin in despite a .250 OBP was an easy solution. It was Griffin's only All-Star appearance. But then there's also Cesar Izturis' selection in 2005 -- his only appearance as well. Going with B-Ref's sOPS+ (or OPS adjusted for league's split), Griffin's 60 is lower than Izturis' 78, making this gun-to-your head choice easier: Griffin it is.

3B: Lots of choices, especially since this is usually a chance for people to wail about Scott Cooper from the '93 and '94 Red Sox, while Vance Law of the '88 Cubs -- on a team that featured Andre Dawson and Ryne Sandberg -- is also cause for disdain. But let's give anti-props to Ken Reitz of the 1980 Cardinals. Reitz was hitting .282/.311/.381 with four homers at the time, outstanding by his lights, and he came with a great rep as a fielder. But an All-Star? Even as a token for his team? C'mon, that's silly. Reitz was close to done, as well, since he was off the Cardinals in '81 (in a trade to the Cubs), and got little more than a whiff of java in '82 before disappearing.

Utility: I know, it isn't an official position, but people like to rail on Omar Infante or even Ty Wigginton from last year, which always reminds me of the ridiculous selection of Mike Sharperson as the token Dodger in 1992, when leadoff star Brett Butler was available. Maybe Butler wanted the days off, but at least he would have put the “star” in his selection as an All-Star.

OF: I'll make a point of picking a center fielder to give us one -- Jerry Mumphrey of the 1984 Astros, because he wasn't much of a center fielder, and didn't have a lot of justification being on the team as the token Astro ahead of the Astrodome's most famous victim, the sweet-swinging Jose Cruz. For one outfield corner, I'll go with Robert Fick of the 2002 Tigers, an embarrassing enough selection, but one made worse by the fact that he wound up getting a couple of at-bats in the infamous tie game. Picking a token Tiger was no easy task, but would it have killed Joe Torre to have selected long-serving Tiger vet Bobby Higginson instead? Higginson was at least a good player on several bad Tiger teams, where Fick was a catcher who couldn't catch well enough to play there, or hit well enough to last in the outfield.

And for the last corner? Part of me would like to nominate Reggie Jackson from the '83 Angels, because Reggie had a bad first half that turned into an even worse second half, and the fans were voting for celebrity, not production, and shame on them being impressed by that. On the other hand, there's the semi-embarrassing spectacle of Willie Mays' inclusion on the 1973 All-Star team, when he was clearly done and on his way out of the game. That said, it was Willie Mays, and he'd literally been in every All-Star Game for a generation (1954-1972). Let's bang on Reggie a bit by picking him, noting that the fans should care a little bit about a player's actual performance in making their selection.

Which gets us down to the pitching, which I'll limit to two. For a starting pitcher, there are lots of options, from Roger Pavlik ('96 Rangers) with his 11-2 record despite a 4.82 ERA (5.16 when he was actually selected), thanks to a ton of run support, or the inexplicable choice of Steve Rogers in '74 (10-11, 4.63 ERA at the break). If ultimate anonymity is your preference, Jayson Dickson of the '97 Angels or Tyler Green of the '95 Phillies might do. But I think I'll go with Mark Redman of the 2006 Royals, because 6-4 with a 5.16 ERA at the break representing the good half of his season, and after a 5-15 season with a 4.90 ERA for the Pirates in 2005, it wasn't like Redman had recent achievement going for him. While you had to have a Royal, did picking a pitcher who wound up tied for sixth on the staff in WAR -- this from a team with a 5.65 team ERA -- make any kind of sense? This is the sort of choice that makes you wonder if the Royals couldn't have activated George Brett for a day, Minnie Minoso-style, to at least preserve some form of franchise dignity.

For relievers, again, with an easy “who and why” name in Lance Carter of the 2003 then-Devil Rays, but the real anti-hero of All-Stars all-time has to be Mike Williams of the 2003 Pirates. Williams was selected solely because of his saves tally (25), despite five blown saves, a 6.44 ERA, or 67 runners allowed in 36 1/3 IP. All-Star or not, the Pirates had had their fill of him, dumping him on the Phillies a few weeks later instead of keeping him around for a bobblehead day or whatever other fan-inspiring goodies are supposed to be part of having an All-Star player. The performance was no joke -- Williams was for all intents done, and never pitched in the majors again after this season, so at least he could state as a positive fact that he left the game as an All-Star. But rarely do you get to see so transparent an example of saves being mistaken for value as this.

Christina Kahrl covers baseball for ESPN.com. You can follow her on Twitter.

In the age of new metrics for player performance, the RBI is mired in tough times. The snarkier analysts will chuck it out entirely as an unfortunate statistical footnote. It isn’t something you’d go to WAR for, after all, not when the analysis community is busily filling up the statistical toybox like every day was Christmas.

However, while belaboring what it ain’t, it’s important to remember what the RBI actually is: A plain old counting stat, and the legacy of original stathead Ernie Lanigan back from the start of the 20th century. It wasn’t Lanigan’s fault that subsequent generations started using RBIs as a value judgment, and confusing these simple facts with whether or not a hitter is clutch. Any discussion of who is or is not an “RBI Guy” is not about who possesses some ineffable quality of clutchiness, but it can still be about who has delivered a lot of clutch hits. Then again, I've always felt that “clutch” should be best thought of as an adjective, not a skill.

In baseball there’s still a readiness to talk about raw totals of RBIs. After all, Adrian Gonzalez is being hailed as an MVP candidate, largely because of a league-leading RBI tally. Prince Fielder is busily delivering on what Albert Pujols was supposed to in their walk years by leading the National League.

When you look at who wound up with the most RBIs in a season, it isn’t about how well a hitter does with his chances; it’s about the sum total of his opportunities. And one of the simple facts of life is that hitting in the middle of the order is going to give you those opportunities. Bat in the heart of the order, and you’ll get a lot of opportunities. As we’ll see, you don’t even have to be especially good at driving runners in to wind up with a lot of RBIs, as long as the manager keeps putting you in the middle of the order and you’re fortunate enough to have a teammate or three good at getting on base in front of you.

So with that in mind, let’s look at a different kind of leaderboard: Who’s doing the most with his opportunities, and converting the most runners into runs? Using a Baseball Prospectus stat called “Others Batted In,” we can find out who gets to bat with the most runners on base and who’s bringing them home. By way of explaining the table, PA w/ROB is Plate Appearances with Runners On Base, ROB is Runners On Base, OBI is Others Batted In, and OBI% is the percentage of men on base a guy has plated. I’m ranking by OBI% using 200 plate appearances as the cutoff.

Now, that’s a fun leaderboard. Justin Turner? Well, I guess it's another example of funny, in-season phenomena. While you might not bet on it continuing, facts is facts, ma’am, and the guy deserves his props. If Turner seems like an unlikely leader, though, keep in mind that among big-league regulars (using 500 PAs as a cutoff), David DeJesus was the best RBI guy of 2008, plating 21.5 percent of his runners. In 2009, it was Bobby Abreu with 19.8 percent. The all-time single-season leader via Retrosheet history was George Brett in 1980, when he drove in 26.9 percent of his runners. However you feel about RBI, that’s kind of cool, and not just because that goes back to a time I was a young A’s fan who dreaded every Brett at-bat.

A few guys who have long since earned and carry the “professional hitter” rep are on the leaderboard: Young and Martinez, of course. And it’s nice to have another reason to give Pence his due. Seeing an aging Chipper Jones still wreaking havoc helps make it clear that he really isn’t done yet. And Gonzalez is here, which is a nice reflection of the fact that he’s not just a product of his liberation from Petco or his presence in a lineup stacked with OBP threats. He’s just scary-good, and this is another way of seeing it.

Finding two NL Central tandems here is fascinating, but with Berkman and Holliday converting their opportunities, you can see how teammates have picked up Pujols, who was at a mediocre 14.1 OBI% before he hit the DL. Finding Fielder and Braun on the list is a reminder that not only does Fielder get the benefit of batting behind Braun, but that they’re both getting plenty of chances to bat with men on, thanks to a front-loaded Brewers lineup with Rickie Weeks and Nyjer Morgan batting in front of them. The guy with the second-most opportunities on the team is Casey McGehee, but his OBI clip of 12.4 percent is another symptom of a bad year, and he’ll get fewer chances now that he’s no longer batting fifth.

But Fielder’s presence also illustrates how players aren’t necessarily consistent in their OBI% from year to year. In 2010, Fielder drove in just 10.8 percent of his runners (or 51 of 474), a clip that only Alcides Escobar worsted among Brewers regulars. Again, this doesn’t make Fielder a bad person -- he just didn’t execute within Milwaukee’s offense in 2010. Since he’s been great this year and was at 18.7 percent in 2009, you can take this as another reason why you ought to just let the numbers speak for themselves.

Since I’ve bolded the leaders in the columns, if you’re wondering which batter has walked to the plate with the most runners on board this season, it’s Ryan Howard of the Phillies with 263. That’s despite the Phillies’ much-discussed offensive issues. So if you consider their ability to set up a big bopper, give credit where it’s due. Whatever their other problems, the Phillies have created a ton of opportunities for Howard, almost as many as the Red Sox have created for Gonzalez. That Howard has driven in “just” 48 runners, or 17.9 percent, is far from an indictment of his abilities as a play-maker -- it’s still a very good clip.

If opportunities essentially define the possibility for results when it comes to raw RBI tallies, thanks to the good folks at Retrosheet, let’s play a little game: Who holds the single-season record for runners on board when he steps to the plate? I’ll give you a hint -- it wasn’t from the PED Period. And it wasn’t a Yankee. And it wasn’t Ted Williams. That’s another hint, because it was Jackie Jensen in 1955 -- the guy who batted behind Ted Williams. Jensen batted with a record 576 runners aboard and drove in 90 for a decent 15.6 OBI%, but the voters wisely left Jensen behind Williams in another category -- MVP voting. Jensen wound up 10th and Teddy Ballgame finished fourth in a partial season.

To look at it in yet another way, in 2008 Justin Morneau set a record when he had the good fortune to get 400 plate appearances with runners on base; like Jensen, he was lucky enough to bat behind an even better player, Joe Mauer. By plating a fine 19.2 percent of those non-average joes on base, Morneau nearly won his second MVP award. Some folks might overrate him, and maybe Morneau has the heart of a lion or whatever, but on a more basic level this means he was good at executing within an offense lined up to give him his chances.

On some level we all get it. Maybe there’s an intuitive leap to make here. In talking about quarterbacks, do we talk about their completions or their completion percentage? Almost always the latter, but it’s sensible to talk about both. Somehow, in baseball, talking about opportunities in the context of driving in runners has never been fashionable. That could be attributed equally to the anti-stats crowd that sticks to the old-school info on the back of baseball cards and the statheads who grew up thinking RBIs were almost as icky as saves when it comes to statistical purity.

I’m among those who, perhaps like Lanigan back in the day, just thinks this sort of stuff is interesting to know. In the cases of Gonzalez or the Braun/Fielder combo, it’s a great way of revealing offensive machines who are punishing opponents again and again, and doing it in a less abstract way than the burgeoning family of sabermetric toys available to us today. Determining the RBI guys isn't particle physics, but you can associate it with something concrete: opportunities and events without value judgments.

Christina Kahrl covers baseball for ESPN.com. You can follow her on Twitter.

Last weekend, I was in Cleveland attending the Seymour Medal conference as the keynote speaker, but that's less interesting than the conference, and particularly the raison d'etre for the event itself. The Seymour Medal, named for the eminent baseball historians Harold Seymour and Dorothy (Seymour) Mills, is awarded by the Society for American Baseball Research; it honors the best work of baseball history published in the previous calendar year. This year, SABR awarded the hardware to co-authors Lyle Spatz and Steve Steinberg for their book, 1921: The Yankees, The Giants, and the Battle for Baseball Supremacy in New York (University of Nebraska Press).

After the conference, they discussed their work with me, with an eye towards explaining why it's a volume you might want to add to your own baseball bookshelf:

CK: Your book 1921 talks about a season that concluded with an all-New York World Series showdown. Besides the series itself, what was at stake for baseball?

Lyle Spatz: Because the public did not become aware of the 1919 Black Sox scandal until very late in 1920, the 1921 season was in many ways a test, to see if fans would still care about the game. Two great pennant races and several heroic individual performances showed they did. Also at stake was baseball supremacy in its major market, New York City, and the way the game would be played in the future.

Steve Steinberg: It was also the fist year of the commissioner [Kenesaw Mountain Landis], who was solidifying his power and banned the Black Sox. It was a year in which Babe Ruth has his second power season in a row, in New York, solidifying the emergence of a new long-ball game, and the end of the Deadball Era. And 1921 reflected New York's rise to the top of the baseball world, where it would stay for most of the century.

CK: The game itself was different, but so was the sportswriting. In your research, where did you notice the biggest differences between the game, then and now, and what were they?

LS: Before radio and TV, to say nothing of the blogosphere, fans got all their information from newspapers. New York had a multitude of newspapers, morning and afternoon, and most with several editions. Writing for these papers were some of the most memorable reporters and columnists ever to cover the game, a group that included Grantland Rice, Fred Lieb, Damon Runyon, Joe Vila, Hugh Fullerton, and Sam Crane. While in some cases, the language was a bit flowery, references were sometimes made to poetry and the classics that unfortunately many modern day readers would find incomprehensible.

While these men were not averse to criticizing the players, mangers, or club executives, each had his favorites and those they wanted replaced. Even Ruth, McGraw, and Miller Huggins came in for their share of bad press, yet there was a seemingly unwritten line regarding personal habits they mostly did not cross. Nevertheless, discerning fans knew that when the newspaper said that Giants pitcher Phil Douglas was taking some personal time off, what was really happening was that Douglas had disappeared on one of his periodic drinking sprees. Now, of course, we would know the flophouse he was in and the brand of outlawed whiskey he was drinking.

SS: Sportswriters -- most of them -- assumed the role of making ballplayers “heroic.” The start of a 1920s' emergence of sports superstars: Jack Dempsey (boxing), Bobby Jones (golf), Bill Tilden (tennis), and the Babe. We drew on a dozen or so New York papers alone, and others in other cities. Each added perspective to the season; each revealed some things that others did not provide.

In '21, a dominating, control(ling) guy such as John McGraw could still flourish (as a manager)... that's almost inconceivable today. He called every pitch of the 1921 World Series from the dugout.

CK: Why should contemporary fans care about the 1921 season, and what lessons does it provide them as they follow the game today?

LS: As a baseball historian, my belief is that fans should care about every season; realistically, not everyone does. However, no living fan can remember a time when the Yankees were not the most famous franchise in baseball. That all began in 1921.

SS: It was the first Yankees pennant; up until then, this was a team with a long history of losing. It ended with one of the greatest conflicts in baseball history, as the Yankees-Giants battle was about who would dominate New York, which style of baseball would dominate the game, and which man -- McGraw or Ruth -- would be number one in New York.

It's almost incomprehensible, Babe's dominance of the game in 1921. He was 12.4 percent of all American League home runs that year. Had Barry Bonds hit 12.4 percent of all National League homers in 2001, he would have had to have hit 366. 1921 reminds that, while fans love great players and managers, they really enjoy the really colorful great ones even more.

Finally, the wealthy teams -- as these two teams were -- could pay for talent from the less wealthy clubs, a trend we have seen repeatedly since. The '21 Yankees had the Red Sox, the '21 Giants had the Braves and Phillies. Money has and will continue to influence the game, yet baseball still continues to thrive.


Christina Kahrl covers baseball for ESPN.com. You can follow her on Twitter.