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Proof that Dave Parker was a serious badass.
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Dave Parker winning the MVP Award for the 1979 All-Star Game.
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Dave Parker with his hometown Cincinnati Reds.
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I’ve liked Dave Parker for a long
time. I wasn’t around for the Cobra’s 1975-1980 heyday, but by the time I
started following baseball in 1986-87, he was one of those cool veteran players
who seemed larger than life. You know, one of those players whose stat line
filled the whole back of the baseball card, leaving no room for extra nuggets
of information.
I recently watched the 2019 MLB
documentary “The Cobra at Twilight,” an excellent look at Parker’s life and
career. Parker was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease in 2013, and the film
shows Parker going to the gym and doctor’s appointments. The contrast between
Parker’s imposing strength during his prime and how tough it is for him to get
around now is sad. However, it’s obvious from the film that Parker’s spirit
remains strong.
When I was a kid staring at the
back of his baseball cards, Dave Parker’s stats seemed enormous to me: 339 home
runs! 1,493 RBI’s! Wow! At the time Parker retired after the 1991 season, he
was 32nd on the all-time list in RBI’s and tied for 47th on
the home run list. He’s now 58th in RBI’s and tied for 102nd
in home runs.
As I started to follow the Hall
of Fame voting more closely, I always thought that Parker was underappreciated
by the BBWAA. For the 15 years Parker was on the BBWAA ballot, his highest vote
total was 24.5% in 1998, his second year on the ballot. Parker was a player who
was regarded as an elite power hitter during his career, but by the time he hit
the Hall of Fame ballot, 339 home runs didn’t seem as amazing.
Because Parker didn’t walk a lot,
sabermetric stats haven’t helped his Hall of Fame case. Parker’s excellence is
captured in the main hitting stats found on the back of his baseball card. Sabermetrics
aren’t kind to Parker’s fielding, despite his reputation during his career as
an excellent right fielder. The sabermetric community hasn’t taken up Parker’s
case with the same fervor that they’ve adopted Tim Raines and Bert Blyleven, to
name two contemporaries of Parker’s who saw their vote totals soar and were eventually
elected by the BBWAA.
Looking at Parker’s WAR you can
see some of the limitations of WAR as a statistic. Look at Parker’s 1986
season. He appeared in all 162 games for the Reds, smacked 174 hits, with 31
doubles, 31 home runs, 116 RBIs, and a .273 batting average. Parker’s OPS+ was
117, and he led the league in total bases with 304. He was 10th in
the NL in slugging, 7th in hits, tied for 2nd in home
runs, 2nd in RBIs, and 4th in extra base hits. According
to WAR, that season was worth 0.3 WAR. Parker’s offensive WAR for the year was
2.1, but his defensive WAR was -2.5, which negated most of his value. So, 0.3
WAR means that you could have taken any schlub off the bench at AAA, plugged
him into the lineup and he would have produced as well as Parker would have.
Okay, I’ll take the leading slugger from the 1986 Denver Zephyrs, Lloyd
McClendon. Did McClendon ever hit 30 home runs and have 100 RBIs in the majors?
Well, Lloyd did hit 35 home runs and drive in 154 runs, but that was over his
entire 570 game major league career. It’s not that easy to replace the Cobra,
WAR!
Since his final appearance on the
BBWAA ballot in 2011, Parker has appeared on several Era Committee ballots, and
I’ve written about Parker in 2017 and 2019. Parker hasn’t been elected to the
Hall of Fame yet, but in 2019 he was named on 7 of 16 ballots, falling just 5
votes short of election. For as much as these small committees have been
criticized over the years, they’ve also made some excellent selections
recently: Ron Santo, Alan Trammell and Ted Simmons, three players who were
wrongly overlooked by the BBWAA.
Much like Steve Garvey, Dave
Parker has the “fame” part of the Hall of Fame covered. Parker was a 7-time
All-Star, won 2 batting titles, was the 1978 NL MVP, won 3 Gold Gloves, had an
amazing 1979 All-Star Game, where he threw out two baserunners and was voted
MVP, and played on 2 World Series Champion teams a decade apart—the 1979
Pirates and the 1989 Oakland A’s.
At his peak, from 1975-1980, Dave
Parker was one of the best players in baseball. As a measure of how
contemporary baseball writers viewed him, Parker was listed in the 1981 edition
of The 100 Greatest Baseball Players of All Time, by Lawrence Ritter and
Donald Honig. Ritter and Honig were taking a huge gamble when they chose
players who were not even halfway through their careers for the 1981 edition of
the book, but it says something about Parker’s stature in the game that he was
viewed as an all-time great by two very respected baseball writers and
historians. When Ritter and Honig updated their book in 1986, Parker was one of
the players who was removed from the book. Other players who Ritter and Honig
had second thoughts about were George Foster, Fred Lynn, and Tony Oliva. It
also says something about how far Parker’s star had fallen that he didn’t make
the 1986 edition.
In the early 1980’s, Dave Parker
was clearly a star in decline. Injuries cost him much of the 1982 season, and
it seemed like much of the power had been drained from the Cobra’s bat. What we
later learned was that Parker had a cocaine problem during the early 80’s.
After the 1983 season, Parker signed as a free agent with his hometown
Cincinnati Reds, and he came roaring back with a terrific year in 1985. As his
drug problems made headlines, Parker was able to maintain focus on the game,
and led the NL in doubles, RBI, and total bases, finishing 2nd in
the MVP voting behind Willie McGee.
Dave Parker was a hugely
self-confident player, and the film likens him to Muhammad Ali. Whereas now Parker’s
braggadocio might look less out of place, in the 1970’s, it was still something
of a rarity for a Black player to be so outspoken. Did that influence how the
media of the time covered Parker? I’m sure it did.
Parker was very different from the
Pirates’ other Black superstars. Roberto Clemente was the humble, graceful,
quiet star. (Even so, the press of the time often portrayed him as a
hypochondriac.) And Willie Stargell was the chubby and loveable clubhouse
leader. Parker was more in the Reggie Jackson mold, telling reporters, “When
the leaves turn brown, I’ll be wearing the batting crown.”
“The Cobra at Twilight” tells us
that things really changed for Parker after he signed a huge contract during
the 1978-79 off-season. The deal averaged out to a little more than a million
dollars a year, although some of that was deferred. Adjusted for inflation,
that would be like paying Parker $3.6 million a year in 2021 dollars, which
would be a steal. Once a player gets a huge contract, it’s easy for the fans to
resent them. Especially when Parker gained a bunch of weight. Then it’s easy to
paint that player as “lazy” and “unmotivated.” Fans threw batteries and even a
bullet at Parker in right field. I was shocked to see some of the editorial
cartoons of Parker that ran in Pittsburgh papers at the time. The drawings were
racist and insulting.
It’s hard not to want just a
little more from Dave Parker’s stats. He was such a great player that you can’t
help but want the numbers to be a little bigger. According to Baseball-Reference,
over 162 games, Parker averaged 178 hits, 22 home runs, and 98 RBI’s. So, what
would happen if we gave Parker his 162-game average for his mid-career decline?
I know, this is getting into speculative territory, but stay with me here. I’m
not giving Parker extra seasons or theorizing what his stats would be if he
could have hit 40 home runs every season he played. Let’s just look at his
seasons from 1980-84, plus 1976, the one off-year during his peak. These stats
assume that Parker doesn’t get injured, and that there’s no players strike in
1981, so a full season would have been played that year.
So, if Parker could have just
played to his 162-game average during those 6 seasons, what career numbers
would he have ended up with?
Hits: move from 2,712 to 3,004
HR: move from 339 to 399
RBI: move from 1,493 to 1,686
Obviously, if Parker had those
numbers, he’d be a first-ballot Hall of Famer. And really, we can forget about
homers and RBIs: once he moves over the 3,000-hit threshold, he would have been
in. And you probably don’t have to mess with 6 seasons like I did to get Parker
in the Hall. If there’s no players strike in 1981, and he has a decent 1982
season and doesn’t get hurt, let’s add 100 hits to each of those seasons. Now
he’s at 2,912 hits. Let’s not even adjust his other numbers. Okay, we’ll give
him 10 more RBI, so he gets over 1,500. Does he get into the Hall of Fame with
2,912 hits, 339 home runs, and 1,503 RBI? I would think so.
I know that’s all speculation,
but to me it shows how close to being a first-ballot Hall of Famer Dave Parker
was. And personally, I would just like to see Dave Parker in the Hall of Fame.
Dave Parker was cool. He was a 6’5” badass who had a pierced ear and wore a
Star of David. His answer to why he wore it was simple: “My name’s David and
I’m a star.” The Hall of Fame would simply be a little cooler if Dave Parker
were in it.