Scuba Steve

Motherfucker was 9 and had already lost an eye.

Super Sky Point to Dave Parker. Anyone who’s followed me for a while knows how I feel about the man. His throws in the 1979 All-Star Game burned an impression into my 7-year-old brain that’s endured for nearly a half-century now. He was the first player I ever saw wear an earring, a pillbox hat-wearing, swashbuckling urban badass who wielded heavy lumber like a toothpick and made big league pitchers weak in the knees. And that arm? It was a nuclear missile launcher. I’m sad he won’t be there physically to be enshrined in Cooperstown in less than a month. But I’m happy he passed secure at last in the knowledge he will forever reside among baseball’s immortals. Have your lighter handy, St. Peter, because smoking one with the Cobra will be a privilege. #RIP

Super Sky Point to Peter Edward Rose. He was crass. He was selfish. He was full of shit. He was his own worst enemy. But nobody played harder, nobody loved baseball more, nobody won more games, and nobody got more hits. He’ll always be a Hall of Famer to this kid. #RIP