Chili With Some Pop
Might want to grab a cinnamon roll with this one.
Last week, I wrote about the designated hitter position and Hal McRae. But I realized I had more to say on the subject. Not Hal McRae necessarily, though I could certainly touch on his managerial career with the Royals and Rays, and his epic postgame press conference meltdown in 1993. Hell, that’s probably worth an entire article by itself. Check it out here.
But that’s not what I wanted to cover today. Nor do I want to rehash the never-ending argument over whether the DH is the worst thing to happen to the game since the Black Sox scandal. You can see last week’s article for my thoughts on the subject, and I know I’m not going to change any diehards’ minds, so why waste the ink?
No, this article was mostly inspired by a conversation with my wife during the last week or so of the season. My wife is a bit of a baseball novice. She never really paid much attention to the sport until I came along, but she’s been a good sport about it. She enjoys going to the K for Royals games, and she’s never complained when I usually hijack at least one night of our out-of-town trips to catch a baseball game in a new stadium. Nor does she complain about how many Royals games I watch every season, which, considering how bad the Royals have been the last six years, probably puts her in consideration for sainthood.
She’s also tried to educate herself on the game. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like we spend many evenings sitting around discussing baseball. In fact, I can’t think of any time we’ve ever done that. I sometimes getting going on the subject, but it doesn’t usually take long until I can see her eyes glazing over and her brain tuning out. But she does occasionally ask questions.
The relevant question in this case was about designated hitters. She wanted to know if DHs were supposed to be good hitters. The question first struck me as absurd. I mean, it’s in the title— designated hitter. But then she pointed out that every time we go to a game, it seems like the DH’s stats are terrible, and it got me thinking. Sure, some of her perspective was skewed by the Royals and their often-paltry batting stats, but even taking that into account, she had a point. The position has definitely changed.
That doesn’t mean I necessarily agree with her assessment of the average DH’s production. Most (non-Royals) teams aren’t penciling in a slap hitter at the DH position, but it is much harder to get a feel for the position these days. That’s because most teams no longer have a true designated hitter on the roster anymore.
Versatility is prized in today’s game. Guys rotate all around the diamond, and that includes the DH position. More often than not, the DH is used as a partial rest day for position players, giving them a day off from the field without losing their bat in the lineup. The Royals do this a lot with Salvador Perez as he gets older and his body can’t stand the rigors of catching so many games.
Managers tend to use their depth in the position, mixing and matching players on their bench in favorable matchups against opposing pitchers. As such, they utilize a wide variety of players and approaches, making it hard to draw a bead on what exactly a DH is supposed to be anymore.
This wasn’t always the case. By the late 80’s and throughout the 90’s, the American League had pretty much settled on what the typical DH should look like. Some were obviously much better than others, but most all of them came from the same mold. Think big, powerful guys who hit lots of homeruns and moved at a sluggish pace. We’re not talking Hal McRae here. The position had evolved. These guys were terrors at the plate, and terrible in the field. Most of them were so bad with the glove that NL teams without the DH wouldn’t even give them a second look. But in the AL, they could become stars simply by stepping out of the dugout three to five times a game and smacking the ball around with all their might.
One of the best examples of this was Chili Davis. At least, he was always one of my personal favorites, and I think he takes a back seat to no one at the DH position. Even his name is cool. His real name is Charles, but I had to look that up, because I’ve never heard anyone call him by it. Why would you? Chili is way more fun.
Interesting fact about Davis— he’s the first ever MLB player from Jamaica. And like Hal McRae, he wasn’t always a DH either. He played the first seven seasons of his career in the National League, manning the outfield for the Giants. And he wasn’t too bad out in the grass, though some observers will point to his leading the NL in errors in 1986 as proof that he was destined to become a DH. But when you dig a little deeper and see that he only had nine errors on the season, which set a record low for an MLB error leader, it doesn’t look quite so bad.
Nevertheless, Chili made the move the AL and the California Angels in 1988. He had two stints with the Angels (1988-90 and 1993-96), and while he never experienced the same kind of team success in Anaheim that he had at other stops, he is most closely associated with that franchise. And it was there that he became a DH.
He was signed by the Angels as an outfielder, but he developed back problems that didn’t do his defense any favors. To minimize the strain on his body and play to his strengths, he was quickly moved to the DH role, and he flourished. Check out his career stats:
The better-than-average DH speed numbers for his career are mostly indicative of his time with the Giants in the NL, but the power numbers show how effective he was in his later role. Chili made one All-Star Game as a DH (he made two as an OF in San Francisco), and more importantly, he won three rings in the role.
The last two came when he was signed to provide a big bat for arguably the greatest baseball dynasty of my lifetime, the late 90’s Yankees. In 1998, he was mostly along for the ride. He was hurt most of the season, limited to only 35 games and 3 HR, but he went out in style in 1999. In his final season, he played in 146 games, posting a very respectable .269/.366/.445, 19 HR, and 78 RBI. The Yankees won their third of four championships in a five-year span, and Davis rode off into the sunset.
His most significant contribution to a championship came back in his prime, however, when he provided switch-hitting pop to the middle of a Twins lineup that included Kirby Puckett, Kent Hrbek, and Chuck Knoblauch. He led the champs with 29 HR, 93 RBI, 34 Doubles, 95 BB, .385 OBP, .507 SLG, and .882 OPS, in addition to belting 2 HR in their dramatic victory over the Braves in the 1991 World Series, considered by many (myself included) to be the greatest World Series in baseball history.
He even had a short, but memorable stint with my Royals. Prior to the 1997 season, he was traded to Kansas City for Mark Gubicza. This was much less traumatic for me than when they traded Bret Saberhagen five years earlier. Mostly because I had grown up and Gubicza was at the tail-end of his career by that point, but also because Davis alone was probably more productive in his single season in KC than any of the three guys they got back for Sabes were during their entire time with the team.
The Royals have a pretty pathetic slugging history. Steve Balboni held the team HR record for over thirty years with a single season mark of 36. Nothing against Bye-Bye Balboni, but it’s embarrassing that the Royals couldn’t find a single player in the steroid era to top that number, which was by far the lowest mark in MLB. Of course, they proved in 2014-15 that you don’t’ necessarily have to hit dingers to win championships (though it’s usually a whole lot easier), but that record was still a sore spot for most KC fans.
Mike Moustakas finally broke it in 2017, but he still only hit 38. Jorge Soler finally brought us some respectability when he mashed 48, and Salvy matched him in 2021. But up till then, the Royals only had a handful of guys who’d hit 30 or more homeruns in a season. Chili Davis was one of them. In 1997, he hit a career high 30 HR and added 90 RBIs for good measure.
Probably not the peak of his career, but he earned my respect forever.
Thanks for reading Powder Blue Nostalgia. Let me hear your Chili Davis memories in the comments. Or is there another player who spent only a short time with your team, but remains a personal favorite anyway?
The only downside to trading Gubicza for Davis was that Gubie actually pitched in two games for the Angels before getting hurt, and now the back of his baseball card (or BB Ref page, if you prefer) is ruined forever.
For some reason, the Hal McRae rant didn't link. So if you're reading this via email, either click through to the Substack page after I fix it or I'm going to post it here. Sorry for the inconvenience.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kamDqL-AGzI