A Giant History - My Case for My Team

[Author's note: Currently, Socratesofswat is holding a blogging contest where one blogger is assigned to "make a case" for their favorite team.  See contest details, here.  With that, I give you my case for my team, the San Francisco Giants.]

Chicks dig the long ball.  In fact, if rule changes, park dimensions, and attendance figures are any decent barometer, apparently, so do the rest of us.  And when it comes to hitting the long ball, few franchises have done it better over their collective history than the Giants.  

The San Francisco Giants (and before that, the New York Giants) have nearly always been about power.  Whether launching baseballs into the short right field porch at the Polo Grounds, the windswept bleachers at Candlestick Park, or the impossibly perfect scenery of McCovey Cove at AT & T Park, some of the game's most prolific home run hitters have plied their trade for the franchise.  As if to add an exclamation point to that, Barry Bonds passed Hammerin' Hank this season atop the All-time home run list.  However, he's not alone in franchise lore.  Before him, Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, and Mel Ott combined to hit over 1,650 homers in their respective careers.  Including Bonds, all are members of the 500-home run club, and Bonds and Mays rank number 1 and 4 on the All-time home run list.  As if that weren't enough, the team has always had other star players who could reach the cheap seats with some regularity as well.  Although they weren't top-tier greats like Bonds, Mays, and McCovey, they brought their share of venom at the plate.

 

  

The "Baby Bull", Orlando Cepeda, got his start with the Giants.  Cepeda made five All-star teams while with San Francisco and hit a career-high 46 bombs for the team in 1961.  In 1951, Bobby Thomson hit one of the most famous home runs in baseball history (off the rival Dodgers, no less!) and gave Russ Hodges an excuse to make one of the greatest calls anyone has ever heard.  The Giants win the pennant, indeed. In fact, Giants' home run hitters have been around from the very start.  Roger Connor, whose 138 career homers topped the category until the Bambino passed him in 1921, was a Giant.  Bill Terry, the last NL player to hit .400, cranked out 23 homers and slugged over .600 that year (1930) as a Giant.  The aforementioned Mel Ott spent all 22 of his big league seasons with the team and led the NL in home runs six times.   

 

  

In 1986, Will "The Thrill" Clark homered in his very first MLB at-bat, an impressive blast to dead center in the cavernous Astrodome against the great Nolan Ryan.  Three seasons later, he had an NLCS for the ages, hitting a blistering .650 with a pair of homers and 8 RBI in 5 games against the Cubs.  (As an aside, one of my favorite Will Clark stories supposedly happened in the NLCS that year.  Just before he sealed the deal with a go-ahead, run scoring base hit in Game 5, he was getting set to leave the on-deck circle when he was encouraged by teammates to "Just do it."  Clark responded by answering emphatically, "It's done.")  Speaking of the postseason, Jeffrey "Hackman" Leonard hit 4 homers in 24 at-bats during the 1987 NLCS against St. Louis and proceeded to circle the bases with "one flap down" each time.  In the 1954 World Series, a little known reserve outfielder and pinch-hitter extraordinaire named Dusty Rhodes launched a pair of homers in the team's sweep of the Cleveland Indians.  

 

  

And the list goes on.  Names like Matt Williams, Jack Clark, Kevin Mitchell, and Jim Ray Hart conjure up yet more images of towering home runs for the team in Black-and-Orange.

 

You want pitching?  Christy Mathewson won all but one of his 373 career victories with the Giants.  In 1905, he started three games for the team in the World Series against the A's and threw three complete game shutouts.  27 innings pitched and zero runs allowed, earned or otherwise.  In 1908, he won 37 games with a 1.43 ERA and 11 shutouts.  

 

  

"King Carl" Hubbell might best be known for striking out five of the game's greatest hitters (Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Jimmie Foxx, Al Simmons, and Joe Cronin) in a row during the 1934 All-Star Game.  However, his Hall of Fame career includes more than just that one spectacular moment.  Armed with a devastating out pitch, the screwball, Hubbell dominated in the hitter-happy 1930's.  He routinely posted an ERA over a full run below the league average, leading the league in that category three times.  He also won two MVP awards (1933 & 1936), a remarkable achievement for a pitcher.

 

The "Dominican Dandy", Juan Marichal, was one of the first great Latin American pitchers.  Before Pedro Martinez or Johan Santana, there was Marichal.  With his signature high leg kick, Marichal set the standard for other great Latin American pitchers to follow.  With 243 career wins (at a .631 winning percentage clip), a 2.89 career ERA, and 52 shutouts, it was an impressive standard.  

 

  

You want defense?  How about "The Catch"?  You don't even have to mention who made it or when it happened.  It is one of the enduring images of the game, seared into the memories of baseball fans everywhere.  The great Willie Mays, the "Say Hey Kid" himself, on a dead run with his back turned completely to the plate simply reached up and plucked Vic Wertz' thundering drive out of the air with the ease of someone picking an apple off of a tree.  

 

  

You want trophies and hardware?  The franchise has 5 World Series titles and 20 NL Pennants.  Their players have accumulated over 30 Gold Gloves, 13 MVP awards, and 5 Rookie of the Year awards.  Barry Bonds, Willie Mays, Juan Marichal , and Willie McCovey alone have made 47 All-Star teams among them.  

 

  

You want managers?  How about John Joseph McGraw?  McGraw, whom the playwright George Bernard Shaw once called "the one true American", was an icon in the game.  He was savagely competitive and baited umpires relentlessly.  However, he was also was a supreme motivator and regularly molded his players into winners.  So great was his ability to transform raw eager youngsters into confident, competent ballplayers that it was noted "he would take kids out of the coal mines and out of the wheat fields and make them walk and talk...and play ball with the look of eagles."  He managed the team for 31 seasons and won 2,583 games and 3 World Series titles while at the helm.  Along with Connie Mack, McGraw remains probably the greatest combination of longevity and success ever to manage an MLB baseball team.  

 

  

You want ballparks?  People like to wax poetic about Fenway's Green Monster or Wrigley's ivy-covered walls, but the image of home run balls landing in the chilly waters of McCovey Cove at the Giants' new home, AT & T Park, competes favorably on an aesthetic basis with any ballpark that was ever built.  Add to that a perfect view of the Bay Bridge just over the left field bleachers and cable car bells ringing and fog horns blasting with every homer off the bat of a Giants' player, and you have an experience that is uniquely San Franciscan.  By the way, the stadium's actual address is 24 Willie Mays Plaza.  Enough said.  

 

  

Some may argue that the counterpoint to the outstanding ambience at AT & T is the Giants' old home, Candlestick Park.  A cold, concrete basin built in the middle of a wind tunnel, Candlestick achieved some degree of infamy for its lack of charm and equally inhospitable playing conditions.  However, many locals will tell you that that was precisely what made Candlestick oddly great in its own twisted way.  You didn't go to watch a game there sipping lattes and getting a tan.  You sat there with a cup of joe, freezing half to death solely because you wanted to watch a baseball game and were willing to put up with the elements howling in your face just to do it.  And the more opposing fans and players groused about the conditions, the more the locals embraced the place.  Yes, it was a dive, but it was OUR dive.  In a brilliant bit of marketing, the team started to offer "Croix De Candlestick" pins to fans who stayed all the way through extra inning night games as a reward for their "bravery" in enduring the elements.  Adding to the legend was the moment during the 1961 All-star Game when Giants reliever Stu Miller was allegedly forced into a balk by one of the 'Stick's infamous gusts.  Though many have disputed how much Miller was actually affected by the wind that day, a balk was, in fact, called, and most who were familiar with the conditions at Candlestick had no trouble accepting the fact that the wind was definitely strong enough there to cause a pitcher to lose his balance on the mound.  

 

  

Even the team's New York home had tremendous character.  The Polo Grounds were shaped like a horseshoe and included, in various incarnations, a daunting centerfield wall over 500 feet from home plate.  However, that nearly unreachable distance was offset by the shallow distances directly down each foul line.  Right field was particularly inviting, just 257 feet away from hitters.  And it was the place where John McGraw presided like baseball royalty.  It was the place Ralph Branca and Vic Wertz were made famous in anguish when guys for the home team made history against them.  And, sadly, it was a place that met the wrecking ball in 1964 after the team left for the West Coast.  Sometimes, we are in such a hurry to get to the future that we trample the past to get there.  

 

  

However, in the Giants' case, there is plenty to celebrate about one of baseball's most storied franchises.  The San Francisco/New York Giants are the team of Christy Mathewson and Willie Mays.  They are the team of baseball's All-time home run leader and a legacy of home run hitting legends.  They conjure up images of "Splash Hits" and windblown infields and horseshoe configurations.  They are unforgettable because of "The Catch" and "The Shot Heard 'Round the World".  They are Russ Hodges screaming about won pennants in the broadcast booth and Lon Simmons telling home runs goodbye.  

 

  

Mostly, they are about the cities they have played in.  While in New York, they were McGraw's tough guys, giving no quarter to the enemy.  In San Francisco, they have been controversial but independent and resilient.  And they are my team.  Always have been and always will be.  Perhaps, it is fitting that they play Tony Bennett's "I Left My Heart in San Francisco" after every home game, because when he sings about cable cars climbing halfway to the stars it reminds me that sometimes certain things are so connected to certain places that they simply cannot be seen anywhere else.  Like watching my favorite team play in my hometown.  

 

  

Stats:

http://www.baseball-reference.com/c/connoro01.shtml

http://www.baseball-reference.com/c/cepedor01.shtml

http://www.baseball-reference.com/t/terrybi01.shtml

http://www.baseball-reference.com/o/ottme01.shtml

http://www.baseball-reference.com/c/clarkwi02.shtml

http://www.baseball-reference.com/l/leonaje01.shtml

http://www.baseball-reference.com/r/rhodedu01.shtml

http://www.baseball-reference.com/teams/SFG/

http://www.baseball-reference.com/m/mathech01.shtml

http://www.baseball-reference.com/h/hubbeca01.shtml

http://www.baseball-reference.com/m/maricju01.shtml

http://www.baseballlibrary.com/ballplayers/player.php?name=Carl_Hubbell_1903

 

Other Sources:

http://www.tv.com/george-bernard-shaw/person/173281/trivia.html

http://www.baseball-almanac.com/quotes/quomcg2.shtml

http://www.baseball-almanac.com/stadium/st_polo.shtml

http://www.ballparksofbaseball.com/past/PoloGrounds.htm

http://www.mercurynews.com/ci_6287756

[Author's Note: Some while back I wrote a post about unfulfilled promise on the baseball diamond and the tragic story of Tony Conigliaro.  With Rick Ankiel's remarkable rise from the ashes in recent weeks, I thought it might be appropriate to re-visit that Tony C post if only to remember the courage it takes to step back onto a baseball diamond after fate forces someone off of it.]

 

He was ready to take his place among the pantheon of great Boston sports heroes.  Williams.  Russell.  Cousy.  Yaz.  They were all going to have to move a little closer together to make room for a young slugger who was bunching up home runs with impressive density at Fenway Park.  His name was already written in pencil on the pages of legend, waiting only for his inevitable accomplishments to fill those letters in with permanent ink. But in one instant on one perfectly placid summer afternoon in 1967, it ended.  In the time it takes to blink, his name simply vanished from the pages of history.

 

 

 

On one pitch in one game of the long baseball season, Tony Conigliaro's magical run with the Boston Red Sox ended.  California's Jack Hamilton threw a fastball that sailed high and tight, and Conigliaro never had a chance.  The ball struck him nearly flush on the left eye, scrambling his flawless eyesight like a beaten egg.  Though he would eventually recover from the beaning, his eyesight would never be the same and his chances at baseball immortality went with it. 

 

Meanwhile, the Sox reluctantly went on without him.  They even made an improbable run to capture the AL Pennant in 1967, referring to their unexpected success that year as "The Impossible Dream."   But they did so without one of their brightest young stars.  That Tony Conigliaro was not around to enjoy and contribute to the wild ride that was the AL stretch run in 1967 surely took some of the edge off the team's "Dream."

And so it was.  Tony C, the local kid from Revere, Massachusetts who made good.  The right-handed hitting phenom who hit 24 homers in 1964 at the age of 19.  The All-Star rightfielder who was supposed to bookend with Carl Yastrzemski for the next decade and give the Sox the most feared lefty-righty punch in the league was essentially done before his 23rd birthday.

He did make it back to the big leagues in 1969 and hit 20 homers.  He followed that up with 36 more the following season, a true triumph considering the toll it must have taken on his psyche to step back into the batter's box and face his greatest demon - the pitched ball.  However, the baseball gods simply wouldn't give him a break, his eyesight, which had cleared enough to allow him back into the big leagues, went for good in 1971.  Another comeback in 1975 (ironically, another pennant winning season for Boston) ended disastrously, and at 30 years old, the game had dispatched Tony C for good.

 

He would go on to sports broadcasting, if only to remain connected to the world he was never fully able to realize.  However, as with his playing days, fate was undeniably cruel to him.  At 37, he suffered a major heart attack that left him in a coma for over a month.  Although he survived, and "survive" is the operative word here, what was left of his shattered life lingered on for eight painful years.  In 1990, Tony Conigliaro, the youngest player in AL history to reach 100 career home runs, passed away.  He was 45 years old.

 

Somewhere, I think there's a place in the very heart of New England that still feels the pain of Tony C's lost career, his one chance to fulfill the promise of being the Next Big Thing in Red Sox history.  And there must also surely be a place among baseball fans in general that not only feels bad about the numbers that never appeared on the back of Tony Conigliaro's baseball card but also that his name must be referred to in the past tense, decades before that ever should have been the case.

 

Stats:

http://www.baseball-reference.com/c/conigto01.shtml

 

Other Sources:

http://www.baseball-almanac.com/recbooks/rb_hr6.shtml

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tony_Conigliaro

Before he sat down to learn about Cuba and have some food and just after he discovered there was, in fact, no birthday party waiting for him in Mr. Hand's first period history class, Ridgemont High's favorite stoner Jeff Spiccoli surveyed the classroom before declaring, "Whoa, I know that dude!"

 

 

I imagine a great many fans at last Thursday's St. Louis Cardinals' game might well have said the same thing.

 

In 1999, Rick Ankiel was all promise, a wicked 19-year old lefty who had rocketed through the Cardinals farm system all the way to the big leagues.  In 33 innings with the big league club, the rookie phenom struck out 39, had a 3.27 ERA, and for all the world looked like the Next Big Thing in baseball.  In 2000, he won 11 games with a 3.50 ERA and helped St. Louis to the division title.  Cards' manager Tony LaRussa was so confident in his prized young pitcher that he gave Ankiel the Game 1 start in the NLDS against the Braves.  It was supposed to be Ankiel's grand entrance to the national spotlight, the first shining moment in a blossoming career.

 

 

What happened next was like something straight out of the "Twilight Zone" or the "Zone Out Zone" or some kind of other worldly zone.  Whatever it was, it sadly had nothing to do with the strike zone.  In Game 1 of the 2000 NLDS, Rick Ankiel went from burgeoning superstar rookie pitcher to the baseball equivalent of a straight jacket and padded cell in the span 2 2/3 innings.  And in the span of those eight outs, he uncorked five wild pitches.  And by "wild", these errant offerings were not of the garden variety waywardness.  Some flew all the way to the backstop, others bounced feebly short of the plate or veered so wide that the on-deck hitters had to raise an eyebrow.  If such a thing can be impressive, it was one of the most impressive displays of wildness that most had ever seen.  By the time LaRussa came out to get his fully-melted down young star, his promise had practically turned to dust.

 

And just like that, the well went dry.

 

Some will tell you that the baseball gods can be cruel, and seeing what happened to Rick Ankiel in 2000 might just be enough to make one believe it.  Now, the story could have ended there, a sad parable about the cruelty of fate and the brutal reality of athletic Darwinism.  But it didn't.  And how the story continued is a rather remarkable journey in and of itself.

 

So what do you do if everything you've worked for, if all of your professional promise gets smashed to pieces?  If you are Rick Ankiel, you simply pick them up along with a bat and start hitting home runs.

 

Yogi Berra once said, supposedly, that baseball was 90% mental, and the other half was physical.  Given that, Ankiel's ability to reclaim his shattered psyche is noteworthy, indeed.  If he'd made it all the way back as a pitcher, people would have applauded but, at the same time, been somewhat nonplussed by it.  That Ankiel somehow re-shaped his career by taking on an entirely different discipline and succeeded to the point that he legitimately merited consideration at the highest level of the game is what turned a good story into a great one.  And he bought his ticket back to the big leagues with power - 21 homers in 321 AB's between A and AA level ball in 2005 and 32 bombs in 389 AB's at AAA in 2007.

 

 

As if that weren't enough, just being back on a big league ballfield, being able to kick around some dirt in the batter's box and settle in at the plate as major league hitter, even for just a single at-bat, would have been a triumph.  Instead, he was able to turn on a pitch in that first game back and hit a three-run bomb, helping to ice the Cards' 5-0 win over San Diego.  As if on cue, he took a curtain call two nights later by hitting a pair of homers against the Dodgers.

 

Whether Ankiel eventually develops into a star MLB hitter or if he fades after his storybook comeback debut is somewhat irrelevant.  The greater point has already been made.  Rick Ankiel, one-time pitching prodigy, stared down defeat and embarrassment to earn his place back at the MLB table.  One home run at a time.

 

And Jeff Spiccoli and Mr. Hand might both agree that watching Ankiel's story unfold has, in fact, been a very productive use of our time.

 

Stats

http://www.baseball-reference.com/a/ankieri01.shtml

http://msn.foxsports.com/mlb/playerGameLog?categoryId=85805

http://www.thebaseballcube.com/players/A/Rick-Ankiel.shtml

 

Other Sources:

http://www.quotationspage.com/quote/27220.html

756.

 

It is probably a number worth repeating.  756.  It is a number that has never been used in compiling the regular season home run total for a single player in Major League Baseball history.  Until now.

 

Barry Bonds is Major League Baseball's All-time Home Run Leader.  That is not a statement of advocacy.  Or a condemnation.  It is now simply a statement of fact.

 

The instant bat met ball last night at AT & T Park Barry Bonds' moment in history was distilled to its most basic element: a baseball player hitting a baseball.  And if only for that instant, what actually happened in between the lines of a baseball diamond took its place above all else.

 

And in focusing squarely on that pitch at that moment in that park and the reaction and technique Bonds used to drive it out of the ballpark, one can appreciate the richness of the act of a home run itself.

 

Balance, speed, the proper timing of the hands, the correct angle of the bat, knowing a pitcher and what pitches he throws at what speed and with what degree of movement, considering the count and game situation and how that might effect pitch selection - a hitter needs all of that all at once, all in the time it takes to blink.  And if he is fortunate enough to square the ball and hit it solidly, he then has to watch to see if the defense makes a play on the ball.  If after all of that, he's driven the ball solidly and squarely enough for it to leave the ballpark, then, and only then, can he relax and complete his circuit around the bases.

 

Fans see home runs hit every day, and most likely underestimate the difficulty it takes to produce just one.

 

Multiplied by 756 against the highest level of competition in the world, Bonds' home run yesterday has to create some pause, some momentary suspension of the circus.  With the maelstrom swirling about everything that led up to Bonds' moment in history and everything that will undoubtedly follow it for the foreseeable future, I thought, for just this instant, it might be refreshing just to consider the moment.  Not the character of the player in question.  Not the validity of allegations of back room dealings and mystery elixirs.  Not the significance of bronze plaques and lines in record books.  Rather, just consider the simple perfection of a hitter squaring up a fastball and sending it into the heavens.

 

In that sense, baseball is still a beautiful game.  It is still principally about a pitcher, a hitter, 60'6", and the pitched ball.  And what happened last night was still principally about that as well: a pitcher, a hitter, and a pitched ball.  In this case, the hitter just happened to hit it out of the ballpark and was able to round the bases.  For the 756th time in his big league career.

 

And if anyone says that's something they've seen before, it wouldn't be true.  Certainly not as true as who MLB's new All-time Home Run Leader is.

Author's note: I wrote this post for last year's 4th of July and thought I would re-post because it seemed appropriate for the occassion (ok, that and I haven't had much time to write new stuff lately!).

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I would like to take a moment to celebrate this country's birthday on this blog by putting exactly four candles on the cake.

Why only four? There is a certain symmetry to the number "4" in sports.  Four quarters.  Four bases.  Four wins to take a Best-of-Seven championship series.  Even the "Big 4" sports as we know them in the US: Baseball, Basketball, Football, and Hockey.

And over time, the number "4" has been worn in singular or duplicate by some of the greatest players in the "Big 4" of sports.

Baseball - #4, Lou Gehrig, First Base, New York Yankees, 1923-1939

Career Highlights: A lifetime .340 hitter with 493 career homers.  Won two MVP awards.  Led the league in homers three times and RBI five times.  Won AL Triple Crown in 1934.  3rd All-time in Slugging Pct (.632), 4th All-time in RBI (1995), and 5th All-time in On-Base Pct (.447).  Key contributor to six World Series winning clubs.  Hit .361 in the postseason with 10 homers in 119 AB's.  Held MLB record for consecutive games played until 1995, a staggering 2,130 games played in a row, earning him the nickname, "The Iron Horse".  The Hall of Fame waived the 5-year waiting period requirement and inducted him immediately upon his retirement in 1939.

Signature Moment: He addressed a packed house at Yankee Stadium in 1939 and told those in attendance that he considered himself "the luckiest man on the face of the Earth" before announcing his retirement from professional baseball.  Less than two years later, he was dead.  Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a fatal degenerative nerve disease, had claimed his life.  That he likely knew he was dying that day at Yankee Stadium in 1939 and still managed to express gratitude and thanks speaks volumes about his character away from the ballpark. 

Basketball - #44, Jerry West, Guard, Los Angeles Lakers, 1961-1973

Career Highlights: Two-time All-American at West Virginia University.  Co-captain of the Gold Medal U.S. Olympic Basketball team with Oscar Robertson in 1960.  Drafted by the Los Angeles Lakers with the 2nd overall pick in the 1960 NBA Draft.  13-time NBA All-Star, 10-time All-NBA 1st Team, and 4-time All-NBA Defense 1st Team.  Led the league in scoring in 1970 and in assists in 1972.  5th All-time in Points per Game and 3rd All-time in Steals per Game.  Nicknamed "Mr. Clutch" for his ability to hit crucial shots in high-pressure situations, he averaged over 29 points and 6 assists in 153 career playoff games.  Led the Lakers to nine appearances in the NBA Finals and the NBA title in 1972.  Elected to the Basketball Hall of Fame in 1980.  He has also had a very successful post-playing career as an NBA executive, helping to build a Lakers team that went on to win three straight NBA titles (2000-2002).

Signature Moment: In the 1970 NBA finals between West's Lakers and the New York Knicks, West hit a 60-foot buzzer beater in Game 3 to send the game into overtime.  However, the Lakers ended up losing the game and, eventually, the series to New York.  So, West never liked talking about that shot.  Instead, perhaps, West's most lasting legacy is the fact that it is his silhouette that now adorns the official NBA logo.

Football - #4, Brett Favre, Quarterback, Atlanta Falcons, 1991, Green Bay Packers, 1992-Present

Career Highlights: 8-time Pro Bowler with over 53,000 career passing yards and 396 TD's.  Led the league in TD's four times and passing yards twice. Ranks 2nd All-time in TD's, Passing Yards, and Completions.  Won three consecutive MVP awards (1995-1997).  Has thrown for over 4,900 yards in the playoffs with 33 TD's.  Led the Green Bay Packers to an NFL title with a 35-21 win over the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XXXI.  Has started 221 consecutive games, an NFL record for quarterbacks.

Signature Moment: In 2003, despite still grieving for his father who had suddenly passed away the day before, Favre played in a nationally televised game against the Raiders in Oakland and proceeded to throw for 399 yards and four TD's en route to a 41-7 Green Bay victory.

Hockey - #4, Bobby Orr, Defenseman, Boston Bruins, 1966-1976, Chicago Blackhawks, 1976-1977, 1978-1979

Career Highlights: Orr revolutionized the way NHL defensemen played.  He became a dangerous scoring threat as well as a stellar defender.  Orr was the first defenseman in NHL history to score more than 100 points in a season as well as being the only defenseman to lead the league in scoring.  In a Hall of Fame career, he was an 8-time Norris Trophy winner as the league's best defenseman and a 3-time Hart Trophy winner as the league's MVP.  He finished his career with 270 goals and 645 assists in just 657 games.  In the postseason, he added another 92 points in 74 career playoff games and led the Boston Bruins to a pair of Stanley Cups.  Like Lou Gehrig, his sport's Hall of Fame waived the mandatory waiting period for induction.  Orr was enshrined in the Hockey Hall of Fame upon his retirement in 1979.

Signature Moment: In leading the Bruins to the Stanley Cup in 1970, Orr scored the game and title-winning goal in overtime of Game 4 against St. Louis.  On the play, Orr was tripped and sent flying but still managed to get his shot past Blues goalie Glenn Hall.  The picture of Orr flying horizontally three feet above the ice remains one of the sport's most enduring images.

Four sports.  Four legends.  Not a bad way to celebrate the Fourth.

Stats courtesy of: www.baseball-reference.com ; www.basketball-reference.com

www.pro-football-reference.com ; www.bobbyorr.com