*When this was written (and posted on our previous server), it was literally inundated with links. Photographs, video clips, random media...it was an ambitious undertaking. As I (re)post this, all of the original links are gone; I would love to put them back up, but that's gonna require more free time than I currently have; my apologies (blame Gary Busey). In the meantime, I still stand behind this list with the nostalgic fervor of a hundred Tim McCarvers...
I realize that recently we've been making more lists than a twelve-year-old girl with OCD. Still, I am to lists what Michael J. Fox is to shaking uncontrollably...so deal with it. This one is about the "big fly," more specifically, the techniques with which they are produced, the impressiveness of the ball's flight patterns, and the reactions generated from both from the player and the onlookers (most notably, me). In order to simplify matters, hyperlinks to videos are designated with an asterisk* immediately following the link. Don't read into this symbology, as the post is wittingly littered with tiny stars. Without further adieu, the crunchiest home run swings of my baseball-viewing life...
***The 'Every Single Asian Player' Division (also "The
Hong-Chih Kuo Memorial Bat Flip Division")***
Ichiro Suzuki*, Hideki Matsui*, Kosuke Fukudome*, Kenji
Johjima*, Suichi Murata (JPN), Seiichi Uchikawa (JPN), Tad Iguchi, Tsuyoshi
Shinjo
I very much enjoy the homologous way in which nearly all
Japanese players swing the bat, especially the left-handed ones. Although it is certainly not without
precedent to move around in the box while swinging (in fact, I've noticed even
the resurgent Scotty Podsednik has been tinkering with it in recent days), such
a 'softball slap-swing-esque' approach appears to be relatively exclusive to
our Pacific Rim friends. Best of
all, generating momentum by hurling one's entire body out of the box is
extremely conducive to a variety of nauseatingly awesome bat-flips (the king of
which remains former Mets and Giants outfielder Tsuyoshi Shinjo, oddly enough,
a right hander). We can only hope
that Japan begins pumping out a plethora of "true" power bats in the
future (a la Matsui and Murada), so we can start seeing the lumber acrobatics
on more than just flare singles.
***The Met-RX Torque Division***
Butch Huskey
Robert Leon "Butch" Huskey logged 83 home runs
over a seven year career, never hitting more than 24 in a season ('97,
NYM). Still, what discourse on the
nineties' most torquelicious hackers would be complete without him? The metasthenic Huskey boasted a swing
that could only be described as sadistic, a siderating attempt to disembowel
the baseball and leave it's entrails strewn across the pitcher's mound a la
Benny "The Jet" Rodriguez."
Mo Vaughn
It's truly uncanny how similar the Boston careers of the Hit
Dog and the Cookie Monster (i.e. Big Papi) have been. Ortiz's peak, which lasted approximately five seasons, was
superior to Vaughn's (with Papi averaging a .611 SLG from '03-'07, while Vaughn,
from '94 to '98, managed "only" a .577 clip). Yet there is no question as to who had
the bigger, badder swing. Big Mo's
cuts packed a pulverizing wallop; a coldcock and a curb-stomp rolled into one,
each hack a diabolical 'chicken in a blanket' of pitiless ball drubbing. And let's not forget the trademark
scowl of bowel incontinence that first endeared Vaughn to us all, and gave me
nightmares until I was sixteen.
Jeff Bagwell
I'm almost certain that Bagwell is the only player on this
list who stepped backwards during his load-phase (planting his foot at that
position for the remainder of his swing).
He is also, unfortunately, only the second-best first baseman born on
May 22, 1968 to have won a league MVP award in 1994, only to later appear on this
list.
Geoff Jenkins/Jeremy Burnitz
I once had a coach tell me, "you can't swing too hard,
you can only swing out of control."
I've gone back and forth on whether or not I agree with that. Aside from Gary Sheffield and Rickie
Weeks, I've never heard of anyone consciously attempting to slow their
swing. And in all honestly, Shef
and Weeksie's comments are probably more autofellatic than anything...I'm
pretty sure their respective bat waggles are not explicitly designed to lower
bat speed.
Additionally, hitters can swing "out of control"
without necessarily "overswinging;" take for instance a batter who
allows his hips to fly open before the ball enters the hitting zone, perhaps in
an attempt to pull the ball and increase his power. (Come to mention it, Jeremy Burnitz dabbled in both.) Perhaps as a maxim my coach's saying
has some truth to it. Then again,
outliers exist for each and every aphorism and, as entertaining as it was,
these two lummoxes were almost certainly swinging wayyy too fucking hard*.
Prince Fielder/Ryan Braun
The rightful successors to the Jenknitz (Burnkins?)
oleaginous contingent. However, it
is Prince who is the heir apparent* to the Milwaukee Chapter of the 'Paul
Bunyan Sweaty-Man Overexertion Club.'
This, of course, does not refer to his voracity for conditioning (nor,
any longer, for seared flesh) but rather his Brobdingnagian "F@#K
YOU" follow-through. His
teammate, Ryan Braun, boasts a quite prodigious cut* himself (extra points for
post-contact loitering in the batter's box), and together they constitute the
most malicious 1-2 punch of two-handed follow-throughs in the game.
Carlos Pena
Easily the best lean-back swing* on the list, handily
dispatching of Jenkins, and the adipose duo of Fielder and Vaughn.
Justin Upton
This is unequivocally my favorite* home run swing* and, to
be perfectly frank, nobody else is even in the conversation. The love affair began last August*, and
continued despite Upton's up-and-down 2008 campaign (another video link*...it's
an extravaganza!). Upton is listed
at 6'2", though after adjusting for fabrications, he is more likely
6'1"...in cleats.
Nevertheless, the younger Upton's hack is the very definition of
torque*; only 21, and thus with Griffey Jr. comparisons abound, we may well be
looking at a burgeoning 30-40 home run* guy, perhaps as soon as this
season. Sporting a sexy .328 EqA
(.346/.415/.636, .290 ISO) to go with 25 XBH, Upton needs only improve his K%
(which sits at an unsettling 30.7% career, 27.2% in '09) to become a consistent
All-Star caliber performer, and possibly even a 400-500 HR man.
Honorable Mention:
Hank Blalock*, Billy Butler*, Jose Guillen*
***The Smoove Divison***
John Olerud
As he is a member of the relatively exclusive '500 doubles
club,' it's sometimes easy to forget that Olerud pounded out 255 home runs
during his distinguished 15-year career.
Or perhaps his underratedness is an implicit refusal of one's cerebral
cortex to acknowledge a man sporting this headgear as a "power
hitter."
Fred McGriff
Tom Emanski pitchman Fred "Crime Dog" McGriff
boasted perhaps the only true "helicopter swing" of our generation
(though Delgado, A-Rod, Berkman, Morneau and others would later dabble). What a complete and total bad ass. He would fit right into the forthcoming
'bad-ass' division if he wasn't as velvety smooth as Alyssa Milano's midriff,
covered in banana daiquiri.
Bernie Williams (left-handed)
As smooth as he was as a ball-player, he may be even
smoother as Blues guitarist. Not
to be a complete and total whore, but his new album, "Moving
Forward," is pretty damn nuanced and accomplished for an ex-jock...I
enjoyed it a whole lot.
Shawn Green
As far as level, sweeping strokes go, they don't come much
smoother than the [original] Hebrew Hammer's (fuck off, Shamsky). Shawn Green was always one of my
favorite players, a fact that I'm proud of in retrospect, given his steady
physical deterioration and performance declines during his
early-to-mid-thirties. So this is
how a power hitter is supposed to age!
In the early 2000's, an era of lightning quick, larger-than-life steroid
goons manning corner outfield spots, Green was a lanky, rifle-armed natural in
the Bob Allison mold, though indisputably superior to Allison in almost every
facet, save for his glove work.
When I watched Shawn Green during his Dodgers days, I couldn't help but
think that 'this is what it must have been like to watch Del Ennis or Allison
in their respective primes' (or at least my romanticized versions of them);
perhaps even a lesser Joe Dimaggio.
Dimaggio, one of the greatest center fielders of all time, is obviously
a major stretch, as Green's batting average exceeded .300 just once in his
career. Still, both Dimaggio and
Green were the purest of talents, with exemplary swings, loping strides and a
quiet, understated dignity; each man demanded veneration without exuding even a
hint of egotism. Kvell,
alrightnik.
Adam LaRoche
It's truly flabbergasting that with his mammoth hitch
LaRoche can even catch up to a plus big-league fastball. He has scaled that baby down a bit this
year, in hopes of becoming more consistent (LaRoche is one the league's most
notorious "streak" hitters), fortunately, when the Pirates first
sacker squares one up with his arms extended, there still is no prettier or
smoother* stroke in all the land.
Chase Utley
When Utley is swingin', I am reduced to regurgitating superlatives like an imbecilic bletherskate with a man-crush. Quick*. Abbreviated. Breme. Estival. Velocious*. Buyahkasha.
Honorable Mention:
Tino Martinez, Raul Ibanez*, Bobby Abreu*, Garret Anderson, Carlos Beltran*
(right-handed), Lance Berkman* (left-handed)
***The Tony Pena Memorial Bat Flip Division***
The Boone's (Bret and Aaron)
First of all, I'd just like to say fuck Bret Boone. Aaron*, on the other hand, I have no
problem with, despite his historic walk-off* (Timmy Wakefield) that propelled
the Yankees to the '03 W.S. He
didn't want to go to New York in the first place...the press-conference tears
upon leaving Cincinnati were of the rarest variety in sports: legitimate. Still, Bret can go fuck some livestock for all I care. Is he the most offensively blatant
P.E.D. offender of the mid-00's?
Bret showed up to Mariners camp in 2001 looking like a goddamn water buffalo, prompting teammates to jokingly call him "The Hulk." Bret, to his credit, would always laugh
good-naturedly at such backhanded accusations...before turning flush red,
calmly removing his sunglasses and crushing the life out of everyone in his
proximity.
Vladimir Guerrero (Expos)
Probably belongs in the torque division, but Vladie had a
pretty cool bat flip workin' during his exile in Canada. It was more-or-less gone by the time he
reached Cali, but the swing remained as entertaining as ever*, mostly because
he had/has absolutely no idea when to lay off a pitch. In fact, legend has it that Guerrero
took a bouncing fastball over the center field fence during his time in
Montreal's minor league system.
(I'm pretty sure this particular swing did not result in a home run, but
imagine how cool it would have been if it had...) Vlad is also a rare case-study in indiscretion, swinging
both way too hard and completely out of control! Perhaps the forth-best right-handed hitter in an
offensively-stacked era (Pujols, Ramirez, Rodriguez), and the only with an
air-tight case against steroid use (sorry Al), Vlady was born to
hit...eye-level sliders.
Alfonso Soriano
Incredibly quick wrists, a chic, one-handed follow-through*
and, of course, the trademark nonchalant bat flip* make Soriano one of the
coolest customers in today's game.
It's too bad he's a Cub, and is therefore destined to never win anything
substantial, gradually accumulating resentments as his annual salary increases
whilst his performance decreases (he will be 38 when his current $136 million
contract expires).
Torii Hunter
In my formative middle school years I modeled my swing, nay,
my entire plate approach, after Torii Hunter's (who I was lucky enough to meet
in the summer of my sixth grade year...delightful, magnanimous guy). Moral of the story? I struck out...a lot. Still, there were occasions when I hit
the ball, my chest puffed out like a giant gorilla, arms extended above my left
shoulder, shiny aluminum bat wrapped around my head. And boy, did those balls fly. Perhaps more importantly, assuming such a position is
essentially an act in "priming" oneself for a killer bat toss, either
(1) to one's right, when the ball is in play (and time is at a premium), or (2)
to one's left, when that bitch is looong* gone.
David Ortiz/Carlos Delgado
Two isolated bat flips earned these gentlemen spots on the
list.
The first was Delgado's recalcitrant sling, following his
forth home run (in a single contest) versus Tampa Bay. I'm convinced it was one of the finest
overhand bat throws in baseball history.
In fact, I can't even remember another. (Now with the Mets...still a brute*...)
Oritz's flip came in the '06 WBC, in the ninth inning of a
6-5 game vs. rival Venezuela.
After launching a Carlos Hernandez offering 850 feet to right field for
his second* homer of the game, Ortiz executed possibly the coolest bat-flip of
all time, immediately turning to his teammates in the third-base dugout,
flinging the bat defiantly (and underhandedly) toward them, giving a Mr. T
grunting scowl, and lumbering out of the box. The image of that gyrating Nokona, which has been forever
burned into my mind, legitimized the inaugural WBC by itself, along with
probably two or three more to come...it was that freaking cool. Fans of the (former) slugger know that
this was not without precedent, as Ortiz already had several pretty kick-ass
bat flips to his name.
Unfortunately, it's beginning to look like we may have seen the last
toss 'n scowl*, unless Papi begins performing them for opposite-field singles.
Honorable Mention:
Yunel Escobar (bat flip distance* king), Derek Jeter (for perfection of angry
little bat throw*)
"The Ulf Hreda Bad-Ass Division"
Rickey Henderson
The most self-assured swing in the history of pro baseball,
complete with an unabashed crouch-walk, head nod, bat flip and hop step. Speaks for itself, really. More interesting than his swing,
however, is what it (and his other antics) did for Henderson
post-retirement. What I mean by
this is although Rickey will be inducted into the H.O.F. this summer, he failed
to receive the honor of unanimous election. While the reasons for this are blatantly obvious (see
above), it still calls into question the legitimacy of the voting panel at
large that any one of them didn't vote for the greatest leadoff man of all
time. To this date, nobody has
received unanimity. This is
completely and utterly ridiculous, especially since the bar has dipped so low
for induction in some cases (see: Rice, Jim (2008); and earlier, Bancroft,
Beckley, Faber, etc...). Don't
tell me that Rick Farrell can be a Hall of Famer but still there is no one who
performed well enough to convince all panelists that he should immediately join
the underwhelming catcher in Cooperstown--this is confounding
ridiculousness. And I will be
absolutely flabbergasted if Greg Maddux does not earn this dubious distinction
when he first becomes eligible.
Who could find even the semblance of justification for leaving him off
their ballot?
Dmitri Young
It's hard to believe Dmitri can be such a bad ass while his
brother Del remains such a gigantic, whimpering pussy. Move over Matt Bush, we've got a new
gold standard for first overall pick busts. Forget that Bush never really cracked the majors (as a
shortstop or later, a pitcher reincarnate); not only did Delmon Young provide
the Devil Rays with one of the single worst PR scandals in the history of MiLB
(the infamous bat-throwing incident), but he also cost his new team, the Twins,
both Matt Garza and Jason Bartlett, in addition to a hoard of AB's that should
have gone elsewhere. Maybe the
performance of the Young's is tied in directly with the contraction of diabetes
mellitus; I've noticed Del has gotten substantially chubbier lately, perhaps he
stumbled upon this realization sooner than the rest of us. Or perhaps he simply does not have that
special something that makes Dmitri so special to all connoisseurs of swing
(namely, the "meat hook").
Ronnie Belliard
Belliard's home run swing* is so awesome you'd swear he'd
done it more than 103 times in his major league career. I'm guessing he was one of those kids
in little league/high school for whom the game was way too easy, recognized it,
and enjoyed it far too much. He
probably stood at home plate after launching a moon-shot and, while waiting for
the ball to land, removed both batting gloves (and his designer sunglasses,
skull cap and protective cup) before rounding the bases on a razor scooter.
Milton Bradley
Milton no longer unstraps both of his batting gloves before
exiting the batter's box on big flies.
That's a shame. (Yet still
he be smoover* than a fool* in a swimming pool.)
Honorable Mention:
Matt Lawton, Edgar Martinez (that's right), Ryan Howard* (for that little
15-degree (post-contact) hip-locked body rotation), Yoennes Cespedes (Cuba)
"The Bannanabolic Blast Division"
David Justice
To be perfectly honest, this is based on something I can
only vaguely remember seeing Justice do a handful of times, and only during his
Yankees days. Upon completion of
his follow-through (assuming he executed the rare two-handed variety),
Justice's bat came to rest on his back.
Then, he would simply release it, thus not hauling it back over his
shoulders to the front part of his body, as is customary. This bluster would not work for everyone,
but the lanky, athletic Justice actually pulled it off, and managed to look
pretty damn cool in the process.
He must've been doing something right, anyways.
Dante Bichette
During my childhood, I spent more time trying to duplicate
Dante Bichette's 'bat spike' than I did any other aspect of a professional
ballplayer's game; that includes Junior's swing (complete with a bat slam of
his own), Rocket's heater, Sammy's gay little hop, Jeter's jump-throw,
Strawberry's cocaine addiction...anything. And I could never do it; how the fuck could he throw the bat
to the ground so hard and not have it bounce up, ricochet sideways, or transfer
its kinetic energy in any way whatsoever?
(Note, in the previous link, the complete absence of a bat...it is most
likely resting just out of frame to the bottom.) Time and again, without fail, the damn thing would hit the
ground, fall limper than Gary Busey's penis, and lie there motionless. Good luck attempting to replicate a
situation where the laws of physics are being so blatantly pissed on. (Perhaps if one were to hurl an infant,
covered in Superglu, at a wall caked in molasses...?). Returning to the issue at hand, add a
mystifyingly sublime bat spike to the ebullient little Piggly Wiggly hop-step
that followed it, and you have yourself one hell of a home run swing. Respect.
Glenallen Hill
The former Cub and current Rockies first base coach, whose
outfield defense was once described as "akin to watching a gaffed haddock
surface for air" (by Bryan Price, former Mariners pitching coach), hit the
only home run* ever to reach the roof of the five-story apartment building
across the street from Wrigley Field's left field wall. Featuring an abbreviated (and slightly
ackward) "wood-chop" swing, not unlike that of former-Twins great
Rondell White, Hill produced massive power with his savage, mesomorphic arms
and chemoterrific upper body.
Rafael Palmeiro
Before turning himself into a caricature, Raffy Palmeiro had
a stroke that could compete with LaRoche's in terms of pure aesthetics. Make no mistake, it was a much better,
more compact and more powerful swing than LaRoche's...nevertheless, I saw his
testimony before congress, and I quite frankly refuse to get over it. Maybe in retrospect he should've taken
the Sammy Sosa defense. You know,
the "I've suddenly forgotten how to speak English despite conducting
20,000 nationally-televised English language interviews during the summer of
'98" one. On a related note,
Palmeiro and Sosa provided some of the most tragically comedic moments in all
of the steroids era, not the least of which involved collaborating with fellow
juicer Miggy Tejada for this, my favorite media guide cover of ALL TIME (-->).
Jason Giambi
I hate to include such a steatopygous, synthetic slugger on
the list, but I'm a sucker for the Soriano-esque follow-through; it really is
quite attractive, even on a morbidly obese man. (#400*, for your viewing pleasure...has he thinned out a
bit?)
Gary Sheffield
The undisputed king* of bat speed*. And of scalding line drives; I'm pretty
certain that I've actually seen third baseman leave their feet on Sheffield's
lower-trajectory home runs.
Honorable Mention:
Mike Piazza (wife), Mark McGwire (post on his H.O.F. candidacy likely
forthcoming, gotta save my superlatives)
***The Ted Kluszewski Memorial Pale Hose Division***
Frank Thomas
During Big Hurt's numerous injury-shortened seasons, I was
forced to forage for other "favorite" players; to make matters even
more complicated, the clear runner-up for my fanhood affections, Joe Carter,
retired in 1998, one year prior to Thomas' first major injury. Greg "Mad Dog" Maddux, Vlad
"The Impaler" Guerrero, Randy "The Big Unit" Johnson,
Carlos "El Caballo" Lee, Ray "Sugarman" Durham, Frankie
"K-Rod" Rodriguez (circa 2001), Torii "Spiderman" Hunter,
Damaso Marte (yep): nothing ever matched the excitement of a Thomas at-bat*, or
the effortless trepidation contained in the two syllables of his nickname.
Frank Thomas is a rather large human being. Nevertheless, I would not be surprised
if he holds a record for 'the most amount of time spent with both feet off the
ground during the process of swinging.'
More accurately, such aerial gyrations were generally contained to the
follow-through, still, its pretty goddamn impressive. (Unfortunately, pictorial verification was hard to come
by. I did, however, manage to dig
up this impugnment of baseball fundamentals from Big Frank's brief Toronto
vacation. For a flicker-show demo,
we turn to Big Frank's primary competition for this distinction, Carl Crawford
who, if he drove the ball more frequently, would have to be called 'king.')
Being as Thomas willingly cooperated with the Sen. George
Mitchell, and that his career production followed (what could be construed as)
a relatively "natural" arc, injuries included, I believe I can
reasonably say that I've never seen a non-steroid Lusus naturae hit a baseball
farther* than Big Hurt. One day,
in particular stands out: Comiskey Park...vs. the Devil Rays...a 480+ foot
moonshot that nearly reached the left-field concourse (which, at the time, was
not covered by the moronic "Chevorlet Fun-damentals" deck... Someone give this man a job.
Robin Ventura
So aptly named, Ventura truly was Robin to Big Frank's
batman. Featuring a silky smooth
stroke, Robin really could have fallen into several categories. In fact, he even made a bid for the
bad-ass category, by charging notorious pitching roughneck Nolan Ryan...horse
shit idea, though. You don't cross
the Vic Mackey of pitching bad-assedness.
Carlos Lee
In short, my favorite* home run swing* until lil' Upton came
along. And, to be fair, from a
purely aesthetic standpoint, El Caballo beats Justin with his fluidity and
understated flare (its just that Upton's home runs go sooo far!). In truth, I loved this home run swing since Lee broke in with the White Sox in the late ninties. I actually love many of the home run swings from that team; while Lee, Thomas and Ordonez garnered mentions on the list, Paul Konerko and the vastly underrated Ray Durham (best birth-given baseball name of the nineties) very well could have. Jose Valentin (from the left side) was pretty smooth in his own right, too. Mark L. Johnson...not so much. So to Mr. C-Lee: from the bat wiggle to the arching*
one-handed follow-through, ending in a triumphant pose*, you are one bad-ass
cattle rancher.
Juan Uribe
In the past few years, preceding his 2009 departure to the
Giants, I had grown to lament Juan Uribe at bats. Still, the paunchy middle-infielder had his moments. And a damn entertaining swing* to boot,
especially on the rare occasions when he put the ball in play (career 19.6
strikeout percentage), and could thus deploy his flaunty follow-through. Nevertheless, I'm sure glad that
corpulent little sociopath is gone.
Alexei Ramirez
Game #162. Tied
score in a must-win vs. Detroit.
Win and face the Twins in a one game play-in for the AL Central
crown. Sixth inning. One out. Bases loaded.
Twelve-year-old Alexei Ramirez* at the dish...
Honorable Mention:
Magglio Ordonez*
***The Natural(s) Division***
No more gimmicks, no more persona-driven auras, no more
utter reliance on bad attitude; nothing but swing. We're talking Roy Hobbs gripping Wonderboy, teetering back
and forth from his ankles to the balls of his feet, straightening up as the
ball is pitched, and then unleashing a flurry of pure 'dog days' romanticism
and nostalgic American hellfire on that little baseball. These are the men who force you to stop
what you're doing when they step to the plate, the transcendent talents that
make you stare transfixed into the TV screen like Fr. Brendan Smyth at the
Scripps National Spelling Bee. And
despite the pulchritudinous fluidity or Mauer, the sublime nonchalance of
Manny, the immaculate extension of Al or the violent explosiveness of Hamilton,
make no mistake, Junior is king.
Perhaps not today, at this advanced stage of his career, but let us not
be so quick to forget the rapturous poetry that was his swing, nay, his entire
game, and let us do that which would have been unthinkable last year--pay to
see Griffey's Mariners play, one last time, in 2009.
Joe Mauer*, Manny Ramirez*, Albert Pujols*,
Josh Hamilton*, Ken Griffey Jr.*
