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On the other hand, Darrel Chaney strikes me as the kind of guy who would stop grounders with his teeth if he had to. It would be difficult to explain his presence for several years in the major leagues otherwise. He lasted for eleven seasons despite batting just .217 with a .288 slugging percentage. Something of a negative image of the best of the all-star Big Red Machine infielders he occasionally spelled, Chaney also augmented a notable lack of power with an inability to steal bases. The back of the card text backs up the theory that his worth resided in his ability to deal effectively with ground balls, describing him as “an outstanding glove man.” (Interestingly, considering a somewhat gruesome aspect of the Mannerist portrait on the front of the card, no mention is made of his throwing arm.)
I don’t know if I would have been able to write about Darrel Chaney if his hard-nosed talents had been better represented by the photo on his card. I realized today that one reason I have written relatively few profiles of Cincinnati Reds players from the 1970s is that I can’t really relate to excellence. So Chaney, a tough, humble, do-anything-to-help-the-team-win utility guy on a couple pennant winners and a World Series champion, would leave me nothing to connect to had he been shown in a photo bravely turning a double play despite the marauding spikes-high efforts of a baserunner. But that is the beauty of my Cardboard heaven. All become strange and failure-laced. Here Chaney stoops like an arthritic amputee with one freakish arm as long as his legs, his eyes mean slits, his skin pale, his lips thin and sour, like those of a corrupt medieval bishop. He reaches for an imaginary grounder, not getting in front of it. He reaches for his shadow. It eludes him. He reaches for his name. He’ll catch a shred of it, the top loop of the D, but no more, as it slides past him and disintegrates. He will remain forever on this side of the white chalk line.
http://www.thebeefbaron.com/HPIM0654.JPG
Groundout: 1B unassisted
Flyball: CF
Strikeout
Reached on E4 (Ground Ball)
Bunt Popfly: SS
Groundout
Strikeout
The viability of baseball today owes more to Curt Flood, Marvin Miller and Peter Seitz than it ever will to its string of owner-coddling commissioners from Landis onward. (For proof, see the hockey finals--oh, right, you can't.)
It would be funny to turn over a card and see a player described as "a leg man".
Something similar happened with the Reds in '87 with two young shortstops. One, age 22, hit 258/316/375. The other, a year older, hit 244/306/371. The Reds traded the first guy, Kurt Stillwell, and kept the second guy -- Barry Larkin.
Don't know if I have a point, other than the old one about hindsight.
I wish I had either A) access to that information, or B) the imagination to come up with a plausible hypothesis. The pose seems like a cross between a pitcher follow-through pose and a more-awkward version of Terry Harmon's (see link in sidebar under Phillies) "waiting to make the catch and apply the tag" pose.
11 : Thanks for that interesting hometown info. Chaney notes that he was an "All-American" high school football player in a Born Again autobiographical piece at the link below:
http://tinyurl.com/6p3und
Presumably, because trading Hamilton allowed them to have both Jay Bruce and Edinson Volquez.
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