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So Rod Beck died on Saturday. The public does not yet know the causes, but if you know who he was, something with the ol' ticker isn't a bad guess. I am not normally partial to feeling overly downtrodden over the death of a celebrity that I have never met like the masses who feel the need to create shrines outside stadiums, on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and the Dairy Queen, etc. And to call Beck a celebrity is a bit of a stretch for most. But as I delivered pizzas around the South Side of Chicago on Sunday and heard the news of Beck's passing, I was suddenly overcome with a feeling of loss. And it wasn't so much the loss of the mustachioed reliever whom when I got his first baseball card as a tike I thought was the inspiration for the bulldog on the Tom and Jerry cartoons. It was the loss of what he stood for as well as a piece of baseball persona--and Americana--that is slowly (or maybe rapidly) eroding.
Beck was one of those players that you almost had to automatically root for. His handlebar mustache and flowing mullet, combined with his portly physique and constant enthusiasm made him a cross between "Oh my God is that guy a badass " and "Oh my God that retarded fella can throw the ball " But more importantly he represented a dying type of baseball playerâ�"The Fuck You player.
This type of player was not necessarily a jagoff as a human being as my moniker might mislead. By most accounts, Beck was one of the nicest guys to ever play the game. By "Fuck You" I mean a player that defied the mold of the modern day baseball player, whether it be looks, personality, athleticism, a combination of the aforementioned, or whatever. The Fuck You player is a guy probably born a few decades too late. In baseball's Golden Years, the Fuck You player was the majority. Not to get all grandpa-esque on you, but baseball before we were around was a different game with much different players. The majority of the players in the first half of the twentieth century probably would not make one of today's MLB teams (well, maybe the White Sox). They would not be big enough, strong enough, fast enough, etc. But what made those players truly great was most of them did what they did not only without the modern training, supplements, steroids, and trophy wives but WITH a lot of cigarettes, booze, and waitresses.
Not Rod Beck.
The Fuck You player gradually whittled away after free agency came around and Jim Palmer did underwear commercials. But a few always seemed to pop up here and there, and some actually had great careers. They were not the poster boys of the MLB by any means, but daggunnit, they played their asses off and under their own terms. These were your Goose Gossages, your Mark Graces (my favorite player ever), your Rod Becks. They were not exceptionally flashy. Endorsements were limited to motorcycle dealerships and bail bondsmen services. They smoked and drank (a lot), even though that's not what the modern athlete is supposed to do. They made every average couch potato proud to have one of their own in the show. Like Grace and Beck, they were really honest and oftentimes funny guys who had no problem rubbing elbows with the commoners (you know, the folks who drop an easy $100 to see you play a game). Beck became a hero in San Francisco and then moved on to a team with its fair share of folk heroesâ�"the Cubs. As a retarded Cubs fan, I instantly fell in love with The Shooter and his penchant for making the seemingly easiest of saves opportunities an effort in cardiology. After a win he would throw one fist mightily in the air and bellow a victory bellow that gave him the look of a walrus at feeding time. His 51 saves in 1998 added bacon and barbeque sauce to the Whopper that was that exciting and ultimately heartbreaking season for the Cubs, and Beck cemented himself in Cub folklore amidst the likes of Augie Ojeda, Mickey Morandini, and Ronnie Woo Woo. Beck would go on to pitch for the Red Sox and Padres before moving on to perhaps his greatest adventure.
Fellow folk hero.
He found himself in Des Moines, Iowa, playing for the Triple-A Iowa Cubs. Nothing impressive there. What made him legendary was that he lived out of his RV behind the stadiums right field wall. It was there that he kept his door open to fans, got drunk with them, let them tour his "home," even letting them use the bathroom. This went on every day for that season. ANYONE could rap on the door, and The Shooter would come out and offer a beer and a story.
In the baseball world today with Barry Bonds, east coast media bias, suspensions for on field actions that were perfectly okay twenty years ago, it kinda hurts the rabid fan in me who has to continue to realize the widening gap between baseball and the New School business it has become. The death of a guy like Rod Beck only adds to that gap. Goodnight, sweet prince.
My apologies for the lack of humor here. I just wanted to give a tribute to a guy I feel deserves it. To make up for this, I offer you a game. Who is your pick for the greatest Fuck You player of all time and why? Winner gets a hearty "fuck you" from me, since I probably won't agree with you.
Posts: 808 Rank: 11 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
two up two down, VA
Posted: 6/27/2007 9:34:42 AM
he's cleaned it up a bit since appearing as a host / analyst and has been cannonized in berman's douche nickname hall of fame.. but back in his playing days, he was awesome.. overweight, dipped a whole tin at a time, and a chain smoker, i think my favorite memory is of him either sliding into mark lemke or chipper jones in the 93 nlcs and tearing the ass out of his pants. didnt change them, wore them the rest of the game.
Posts: 1164 Rank: 6 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
New York, NY
Posted: 6/27/2007 9:43:20 AM
I've really been put off byt this whole situation for the past few days. Growing up in Northern California Rod Beck played a big part in my development as a sports fan. He seemed like a character in a movie, but he was really just being himself. I can't think of a person that didn't love him. He was the Everyman. It was as if your drunk uncle had made it to the Majors. How could you not get excited? Apparently, he used to drive a van conversion for years and when he got a new contract which paid him a lot more cash he stillshowed up to work driving his van conversion.When asked why he didn't upgrade to a Lexus or something he responded:
"How the hell am I going to fit a keg into a Lexus?"
And he was serious.
Finally, I recommend all of you to search for a picture of Rod Beck without a hat on. Pure comedy. the guy truly didn't give a fuck.
The greatest Fuck You player of all time might be Jack Morris who pitched for the Twins for awhile. I don't claim to know a lot of the details of his career, but his 10-inning complete game shutout in game 7 of the 1991 World Series was probably the greatest showing of testicular fortitude ever displayed on a baseball diamond. His overall style and demeanor was Bech-esque.
Posts: 303 Rank: 23 Joined:
12/8/2006
Location:
north babylon, NY
Posted: 6/27/2007 9:55:55 AM
I don't know if this really counts because, like Baffoe said, he played in an era where the "Fuck You" player was the majority, but I would have to go with Babe Ruth. I mean the guy was unbelievable. I mean one year he hit more homeruns then the rest of the league combined. The guy was hitting 50-60 homeruns in a time where if you hit 10-15 you were considered a slugger. Imagine what he'd do today with the smaller fields and diluted pitching. And the guy could pitch too. All while being a fat, sloppy, womanizing, drunk. Truely amazing...
Baffoe, take a bow. This was truly great, and I love the new term. The biggest of alltime had to be Mickey Mantle, a guy who drank "Aborts" in the morning-absolut vodka and port wine-and generally behaved like a man with a minimum wage job, rather than like one of the typical wealthy pampered athlete.
Kent Hrbek-almost entire 87 Twins team for that matter Kirk Gibson Keith Hernandez-ditto 86 Mets George Brett
Posts: 657 Rank: 10 Joined:
3/13/2007
Location:
Denver, CO
Posted: 6/27/2007 10:13:01 AM
Ugliest man to ever play the game but one hell of a player. He didnt look, act, or dress the part but his playing was legendary. I saw him in the movie theaters once here in Denver and he looked like someone from the seattle grunge era: scragly unkempt oily hair, a flannel shirt that was 2 sizes too big, pants with a hole in the knee.
You have to love a goalie that will skate to center ice to throw down with the opposing goalie.
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