Hall of Fame Brain Teaser

When I'm bored or trying to fall asleep, I like coming up with baseball brain teasers. Here's one that I haven't figured out yet:

Name a current Hall of Famer who never played on a team with another Hall of Famer.

I thought I had this figured out. I thought that George Brett was an answer, but then I remembered that Gaylord Perry was on the Royals in 1983, and Harmon Killebrew in 1975.

Another potential answer was Tony Gwynn, but he played with Roberto Alomar back in the late 1980s. Or how about the newly inducted Barry Larkin? Well, Tony Perez was on the 1986 Cincinnati squad, the year Larkin was called up.

It's sort of like a reverse Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, and harder than you think. I'll post a list of the permutations later in the week, but in the meantime, post your responses as comments on this post.

Men Who Are Dawgs

Ben Grieve, 1997 Skybox "Little Dawgs"

Seen here is famous “Little Dawg” Ben Grieve, part of Skybox’s “Dugout Access” series, in which we receive exclusive dugout access in the form of a baseball card. This past summer, I wore this card around my neck and attempted to enter the Diamondbacks dugout in order to figure out why the team was so horrible at baseball. I was stopped at the door by a security guard, who did not grant me access as a result of these credentials. I was informed that my Ben Grieve “Little Dawgs” baseball card, part of the “Dugout Access” series, only granted dugout access in the sense that the information contained on the back of the card was supposed to make me feel as though I were in the actual dugout. I was disappointed.

Many people know Ben Grieve as “Ben Grieve.” People close to him, however, know him as “Little Dawg,” with a “w.” And by people close to him, I mean “people who do not know his actual name.” And by people I mean Barry Larkin:



What is a “LITTLE DAWG”?

Excellent question. I do want to mention that the question mark should be inside the quotes, but again, we are dealing with DAWG in ALL CAPS spelled with a “W,” so I will let that one pass.

Major League teams invite as many as 70 players to Spring Training each year. With so many players, it’s sometimes difficult to learn everybody’s name, so Barry Larkin simply refers to the players he doesn’t recognize as “Little Dawgs.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

Spring training, ’97, A’s versus Reds. Ben Grieve doubles off the right field wall, and pulls up to second base. Standing there is Reds shortstop Barry Larkin.

Larkin: Nice hit, Little Dawg. (Slaps Ben Grieve on the butt with his glove.)

Grieve: Thanks. What?

Larkin: I said, “Nice hit, Little Dawg.”

Grieve: Okay, yeah. What’s a “Little Dawg?”

Larkin: You, man. You’re a Little Dawg.

Grieve: What? Why?

Larkin: Because I don’t know your name. Man, do you know how many players they invite to spring training? 70! And that’s each team! Times 70 by 30 and that’s a million Little Dawgs. I can’t be remembering all types of names and stuff. I’m Barry Larkin!

Grieve: My name is Ben.

Larkin: That’s cool. Listen, don’t feel bad, Little Dawg. My brother-in-law is a Little Dawg too, and that dude’s been married to my sister, what's-her-face, for like 30 years. That’s 10 in dawg years. Ha! Get it?

Grieve: Yeah. Good one. But don’t you think you should at least try to remember some people’s names? I mean, I’m a grown man, and I think I’m a good player—as does every other guy out here—and it’s kind of condescending to be equated with an annoying chihuahua.

Larkin: You Little Dawgs are crazy! You should feel lucky a player of my stature is even speaking to you. You see your boy Little Dawg over there? (Points to A's dugout ...)

Grieve: McGwire?

Larkin: Yeah. What does he call you?

Grieve: (Hangs head in shame.) He won’t speak to me.

Larkin: Exactly. But me? You’re my Little Dawg! C’mere. Gimmie a hug.

The two men hug at second base.

Grieve: Mr. Larkin?

Larkin: Call me Barry.

Grieve: Barry, what will you call me if I win “Rookie of the Year” this year?

Larkin: Hmmm. How about “Frank?” All you white guys look like Franks.

Grieve: Okay, deal.

The Qualities of Leadership

Bobby Bonilla & Barry Larkin, 1991 Fleer, NLCS Team Leaders

Look at these two guys here. They have nothing in common! One guy is tall and the other guy is not as tall. One guy plays for the Pirates and the other guy plays for the Reds. One guy has a mustache and the other guy only kinda has a mustache. One guy plays by the rules and the other guy is unorthodox and goes only by his gut instincts, I imagine. What common denominator could possibly bring two men together who are otherwise worlds apart with regards to their careers, backgrounds, general worldviews and favorite musical artists?



Bobby Bonilla and Barry Larkin don’t have the same physical stature or play the same position,

You’re telling me! I mean, how could two men who aren’t the exact same size and don’t play the exact same position within the sport that they both play professionally possibly relate to one another? How?!

But the two did share one thing in the 1990 National League Championship Series:

Popcorn? Groupies? Playing in the 1990 National League Championship Series?

Leadership.

Huh. Leadership. Come to think of it, they do both resemble leaders of their respective clubs, what with their arrogant smiles and “come follow me” demeanors. I would go to war with either of these great men! Or whichever one was on the winning side! Let us discover the manner in which both men lead:

Bonilla, the Pittsburgh Pirates slugger, put together a marvelous 1990 campaign as Pittsburgh captured the NL East title.

Bobby Bonilla: Leading by marvelousness.

Bobby finished second in the NL with 120 RBIs and delivered a career-high 32 homers (sixth in NL). Bonilla placed second in the NL in runs and total bases (324) and finished 10th in slugging percentage and hits.

Bobby Bonilla: Leading by finishing second and sixth and tenth in various statistical categories.

Bobby, a switch-hitter who was signed by the Pirates at a baseball clinic in Europe in 1981, was moved to the outfield after playing third base in his previous four years with the Pirates.

Bobby Bonilla: Leading by being a switch-hitter in Europe in 1981. Bonilla would actually go on to display his leadership in future NCLS contests by reportedly playing cards with Rickey Henderson in the clubhouse while his team, the Mets, were outside attempting to reach the World Series in 1999. So there is that.

Larkin once again proved to be the Major League’s best offensive shortstop in 1990 as Cincinnati led the NL West Division from start to finish.

Barry Larkin in clubhouse after first game of 1990 season: We’re in first place and I intend to stay there! Are you with me?!

Clubhouse: erupts in chorus, Yeah!

Larkin: I will prove to be the best offensive shortstop again in 1990! Who’s better than me at playing shortstop offensively?!

Clubhouse: erupts in chorus, No one!

Larkin: They can’t handle the truth!

Clubhouse: erupts in chorus, Yeah!

Larkin: They can take our lives, but they’ll never take…our FREEDOM!

Clubhouse: destroyed in ensuing mayhem

Larkin had a sensational first half in the 1989 season, but an injury during the All-Star Game Skills Competition sidelined him for most of the rest of the season.

Barry Larkin: Leading by entering the 1989 All-Star Game Skills Competition and injuring himself while trying to throw a baseball through a giant clown’s mouth.

This account of the various leadership qualities of two men, and the specific events and situations in which these two men –- otherwise so different -– exercised their innate ability to lead, has been, for me, truly inspiring. Churchill & Truman? Pffttt. As the great Bobby Bonilla once said:

Looked who just walked in, {beep}. Hey, Bobby, why don’t you {bleep} my {bleep}? But don’t take it personally….That’s right, you heard me, {beep}. But, hey, don’t take it personally.

Somebody needs to put that on a poster. A poster entitled “Leadership.”