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Here we see a year passing like nothing in the life of Darrell Evans. In the earlier photo, at our left, Evans is apparently in San Francisco, wearing home whites and long sleeves, perhaps to combat the infamously raw temperatures at Candlestick. He seems pensive, maybe even slightly displeased. Maybe the Pittsburgh Pirates catcher, possibly Ed Ott, has just muttered something troubling through his mask to Evans. All hopes fade. All beauty crumbles. All roads lead to the boneyard. The second photo seems to be in Los Angeles, judging from Evans' dark uniform and the backwards cap on the catcher. (It seems indeed to be a cap and not a helmet, which makes me think this is not the Dodgers' regular catcher, Steve Yeager, though I am basing this assumption solely on the hazy recollection that Yeager was once nearly killed by a broken bat flying into his neck and responded by inventing the first neck guard, which I assume was accompanied in the newly sobered and extra cautious nephew of Chuck Yeager's armor by a sturdy helmet. My gut feeling, without checking any rosters of the time, is that the catcher pictured here is Dodgers backup Rick Dempsey Johnny Oates, who I see in my mind's eye catching with a turned-around cap and not a helmet and who as far as I know avoided getting brained by any balls to that soft cloth cap as well as any jagged bat shards to the neck but who instead eventually died before his time anyway, of cancer.) In this slightly more recent photo Evans trains his pensive, faintly perturbed gaze straight at the viewer. He has let another pitch go by. Maybe it has been called a strike. But maybe not. Maybe it has been called a ball and Darrell Evans is on the brink of yet another of his many featureless, unmemorable walks. Maybe he has grown weary of the routine of tossing his bat toward the dugout and loping down to first to stand there until Johnny Lemaster or Terry Whitfield pops out to end the inning. As for me, I am finally home after most of a month spent traveling. I am back in my life, the one that would be depicted on a card if trading cards showing people like me existed. I am working as a proofreader. Same as last year and the year before that and the year before that.
It actually looks like Candlestick in that background, and that the Giants that day decided to wear their black alternate jerseys at home.
Now, I agree, being 41, and remembering plenty about the players then, Ferguson wore the helmet catching, so did Yeager, no question.
That leaves Oates and Grote. Now, I went so far to look at hair color from their old cards(yes, I do have a life outside of commenting on cards on websites), and honestly, I think I lean more towards Grote, for this reason. He always kept the brim of his hat in that cocked up position when he caught. I remember this, because I always thought it was unique, remember, this was in the days before they all wore helmets. Cliff Johnson, remember him, when he played and actually caught a few games for the Yankees, did the same thing.
So, my money is on Jerry Grote on Sat, 5/27/78, the only day game that he caught in Candlestick vs. SF, that Evans was also in the lineup.
Also, remember, the alternate jersey thing was not so much a Sunday thing then, it was often choosen by someone else, a club PR guy, and it could be any day-ala the Pirates and their multiple uniforms of that era.
Anyway, good that the Man Josh is back, this stuff makes our little world a bit more fun.
What is this "life outside of commenting on cards on websites" you speak of?
The May 27 Grote-caught game on Retrosheet (just one day before the Oates-caught game noted by JT Dutch):
http://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/1978/B05270SFN1978.htm
Lost in my initial self-absorbed profile and in the ensuing discussion is any mention of the merits of Darrell Evans, ranked by Bill James as the 10th best third baseman of all time. James wrote that Darrell Evans was "the most underrated player in baseball history, absolutely number one on the list."
I once wrote an autograph request letter to Darrell Evans, not at all unlike the hundreds I've written to other players. The thing that makes Evans unique in my experience is he wrote back with a full-page letter that answered my question about the toughest pitcher he ever faced. He said John Candelaria. Told me that after he got lucky (his words) and hit his only homer off him, that Candelaria would knock him down everytime up. Who knows? Maybe he looks pensive on that '78 card because "The Candy Man" was out there taking aim at him.
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