Hate to add to the Niagara Falls of bad news that this spring training has poured down upon our little pointy heads. But I think the question has to be asked:
Has Aaron Judge become our new Roger Maris? When we were hoping that, just maybe, he was our new Mickey Mantle?
An awful lot to put on a fella, I know. Judge has played and behaved splendidly in his time with the Yankees. Rookie of the Year, an MVP (should be two, were it not for the giggling cheater down in Houston), three Silver Sluggers, great fielder.
It was Judge, after all, who became the first player ever to (legitimately) break Maris' home-run record, and to (legitimately) tie Babe Ruth's. Judge who has always played with a smile and a wink, and a Bunyanesque flair in the outfield.When was the last time that something resembling's Judge's court in right field ever found its way into Yankee Stadium?
(Don't say those Sheff's toques—though the Coneheads and the Freddie Sez frying pan will be acceptable responses.)
Roger Maris was, in many ways, a very comparable ballplayer.
Sure, I'd rank Judge a little higher. A .283 BA and .982 OPS, compared to .265 and .822 for the Rajah (in the 7 years he was with the Yankees). Judge has struck out much more (1,038 to 417) and stolen more bases (43-21), but both of those stats can be put down to changing styles of play. Maris had Mickey Mantle hitting behind him, and one of the great Yankee lineups all around him. Judge, not so much, unless you count Gimpy Stanton and Dazzy Gleyber.
But when Maris came to the Yankees he, too, almost instantly blossomed into an outstanding ballplayer. A total of 100 home runs in his first two years, and two MVPs (Both of which should've gone to The Mick, but never mind!).Even after his traumatic, 1961 chase of Ruth, Maris came back in 1962 to hit 33 dingers—despite the fact that MLB, in all its wisdom, decided that there was too much hitting in the game, and adjusted the strike zone accordingly.
A Gold Glove outfielder, he saved the World Series that year, with a strong throw from right field that kept Matty Alou on third base, in the ninth inning of Game Seven.
Pretty impressive—and Maris had just turned 28. And then...it was all but over.
Roger hit well in 1963, but missed 72 games and most of the World Series with bad back pulls. He had what would prove to be his last truly good year in 1964, hitting 26 homers and batting .281—but that was it. In 1965, Maris broke his hand—possibly by hitting a male model at a bar, in an ugly incident in spring training—and tore a couple of ligaments in his fingers, in a freak collision at home plate, where he got his hand tangled in the spikes of an ump who was standing too close.
He missed another 116 games, and then in 1966 the hand never seemed to heal. Maris was sure he had a bone sliver loose in his hand. The Yankees' crack medical staff, with a long record of torturing ballplayers even then, couldn't find it, and the brass decided to gaslight Roger, making out to the fans that he was a head case.
It was the final straw for Maris, whose aptitude for rage was always at a level that we've never seen in Judge. He demanded a trade, and the Bombers obliged, sending him to St. Louis for Charlie Smith, perhaps the worst single player in Yankees history. The Cardinals went on to win two pennants and a World Series with him, but Roger missed almost 100 more games in those two seasons, and hit a combined total of 14 homers.
Maris retired at 33, but he was really done at 30. Judge is about to turn 32, of course—but one wonders how many productive years he really has left.
Much like Maris, injuries seem to seek the Judge out, and multiply upon themselves. The crash through the Dodgers' crappy wall was apparently what led to him over-training in the off-season, taking so many swings that he may have torn a rib.
Don't be surprised if he has. Judge has already averaged more than 30 games out with injuries every year since his first, full season in the majors—and that's with the Covid season probably saving him a good deal more time on the DL. There is no reason why we should expect him to continue healthy and productive as he ages—especially with Yankeecare.
Greatness in baseball is like quicksilver. It comes awfully quickly and can vanish just like that, with a freak injury on a sunny afternoon field, or a stupid moment in a barroom. I wish Aaron Judge nothing but the best in the years ahead. But the Yankees should have made sure to get him into a World Series already.
6 comments:
Hoss - you may have just inadvertently given Hal a new business opportunity.
YANKEECARE!
They can offer a free MRI* with every sign up.
*Diagnostic results extra
I’m a little too young to really remember Maris, but even with all the modern day hoopla around him, I think Judge the better player.
But it’s more than a little concerning that he is feeling “beat-up” in March. How’s he going to feel in August? Hate to say it, but the decline will soon be upon us. His contract, like others, will be an albatross.
More worried Judge is Mattingly 2.0. Love Donnie, but his glory years mid 80s teams were an arm or two (or three) short. The late 80s early 90s teams were awful. When the 4esurgence started in 93, Donnie helped out for a couple years, before the titles. I fear Judge is on a similar trajectory.
Judge, like Donnie, deserves better, Publius.
Maybe Judge should get his medical care elsewhere, like he did with his hitting coach. The best way any Yankee can get in shape, prevent injuries, and improve his hitting (or pitching) is to stay away from the organization's "experts" and find someone competent in the outside world. Then ignore whatever he hears while he's with the team.
I wonder where we'd be if more players had done that.
Love 4esurgence, Publius!
I went a Yankee game in 1965 or 66 wih my Dad. I was maybe 10 years old. Maris came up to bat, and everyone booed (except my father, I think; he was too busy grousing over how expensive everything was). Maris hit a home run, which quieted somewhat, the boos. The next time up, I lustfully booed him, and my father asked me why I was booing. I said "well, it worked the first time". Some part of me was known and knew of the juju Gods even at that young age.
Maybe that's why I chose my team member moniker --"ol Yankee Daddy Roger"
Thank you Dr. Freud. Sometimes a baseball bat is just a bat.
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