Willie was also one of the streakiest hitters I have ever seen. He was dubbed “The Man of a Thousand Dances” because he changed his batting style to emulate whoever was really on a tear at the time. This was at least partly attributable, I think, to the fact that the Dodgers needed offensive firepower from him so desperately, particularly after namesake Tommy Davis blew out his knee on the 4th of July during a game I attended at Dodger Stadium. Somehow the Carnation chocolate malts and the post game fireworks which we could also see above The Rose Bowl and The Coliseum weren’t so thrilling after that.

There were so many hopeful expectations on Willie that he appeared to be trying too hard much of the time. I remember seeing him lash a triple at the Stadium and the excited crowd exploded into a roar as soon as the ball came off the boat because it was immediately evident that we’d get to see him sprint all out. He made it to third with ease, but was going so fast that he slid about 5 feet past the bag and was tagged out. Maybe his hyperintensity led him to take up chanting in an attempt to calm down a bit. He probably took the ‘inner peace’ thing too far, because by the time he made the infamous three errors in one World Series game, he commented afterwards, “It’s not my wife; it’s not my life; it’s only a game.” Perhaps he was right. But to this young kid, the October Classic was more important than life itself.

Oh well. Om and all. And pass the Cracker Jack please.

But a beautiful poem.

As for Willie Davis, I harbor no doubts at all that he was a superior practitioner of The Art of Centerfield, and that his Buddhist chanting added yet another dimension to his arsenal of gifts, both mental and physical; all the better with which to enhance his focus and attain results both victorious, and enlightening, in the daunting sphere of competition, and I’d like a quarter-pounder and a thickshake, and YES dammit, I want fries with that. Please hurry.

I don’t even remember Willie Davis being on the Padres. I always felt really sorry for Willie Davis. He was a great defensive center fielder who was a good hitter stuck in a pitcher’s park in a terrible hitting era. He never gets anywhere near the respect he deserves. I think in the Chone WAR projections he’s ranked as the 123rd best player of all time.

That’s the thing that’s really interesting and depressing about baseball and perception. Ask 10 baseball fans if Willie Davis was a better player than Jim Rice and all ten will laugh at you and say that it’s not even close that Rice was the far better player when in reality Davis was the far superior player.

Ken A., Thinking about passing while watching baseball actually gives me kind of a nice feeling, odd as that sounds.

I guess that could be a test of your baseball fanaticism: do you think that’s a great way to go–watching your favorite team, reading your favorite blog? Or does that idea trigger in your mind a mid-life-crisis-type panic, instead?