Recently in Player Appreciation Category

The spotlight always seemed to shine near Jerry Koosman, but never on him.
Editor's note: This is the second in a series of the 10 most underappreciated players of all time. Guess who No. 10 was.
When you're second to Tom Seaver, you're doing something right.
And Jerome MarinKoosman was. He did win 222 games in the Major Leagues. He had an ERA 3.36 that was comparable to stars of his era. He pitched, and won, big games.
But he strangely never got credit for the career he had.
Then again he wasn't Tom Seaver.
Tom Terrific, after all, was approved by the most voters for enshrinement into the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame.
That's right - more than Babe Ruth. More than Ty Cobb. More than Mr. Cy Young himself.
So Tom Seaver, his 311 wins, 2.86 ERA and 3,640 shutouts cast a long, dark shadow.
And that shadow fell one Koosman, a very reliable left-hander from Appleton Minnesota.
But Koosman didn't have just one shadow that blocked out the spotlight. He also had to deal with the flame-throwing Nolan Ryan, who scared hitters so much they would have rather faced John Wayne Gacy or John Wayne.
So they were somewhat relieved when the face Koosman.
Which was the wrong feeling.
They escaped the lion's den and the gorilla cage.
But they were still within range of a black bear.

The Koos was the oft-forgotten third man in the triumvirate of young hurlers who came up in the 1960s.
For his part, Tom Seaver was the ace with the sandy-haired, golden boy good looks, the affable smile and an unparalleled grace. He was Han Solo, without the attitude.
Nolan Ryan was Darth Vader. His blazing fastball and brooding glare menaced hitters in a way that made Bob Gibson and Don Newcombe proud. Ryan went on shatter so many records on his way to enshrinement in Cooperstown he became one of baseball's brightest stars.
Jerry Koosman was Luke Skywalker, playing the role of the young country bumpkin whisked from his uncle's farm and thrust into action well above his head. He wasn't ready to equal Ryan's heat or put hitters away with Seaver's calculating effort and tenacity.
But Koosman, like Skywalker, was perfect for the part.
One could say he was destined for it.

The Hammer whacks another. Hank Aaron holds so many spots in the record book, but his impact in the game has never been truly respected.

Editor's note: This is the first in a series of posts on the 10 most underrated players in Major League Baseball history. Some might are players who never stood in the spotlight of stardom. Others are players whose whole careers were never fully appreciated because of one achievement or controversy.
He walked toward the batter's box, swinging two heavy sticks with his strong his right arm.
The wooden bats didn't just cut rhythmically through the thick Atlanta night. They swung back behind his head and through racial hatred that continued to sting a southern city and state, then whip in front of him beating back Jim Crow's dying grip on a region. And, finally, the bats reach the top of their arc and ran across the scars of a country that is moving in the right direction.
His left hand holds his protective batting helmet near his Braves blue belt that not only fit him, but the time, 1974. He twists to spit at the ground. It lands in an area that was once toiled on by slaves.
He takes his final steps toward the plate, through the fog created from so many memories and accomplishments amassed over a long career. To be sure, this is not the Hank Aaron of 1955. That was a lean young man with a ferocious swing that attacked the ball with the force of a howitzer.
This was also not the Hank Aaron of 1964, whose seasoned eye, quick stroke and sharp mind caused teammate Ernie Johnson to marvel, "Hank Aaron is simply smarter than all pitchers. ... (h)e puts all pitchers to sleep."
This is the Hank Aaron of 1974. With the end of the 1973 campaign, he'd had his last great season. His talents are waning.
This is the Hank Aaron with the slight paunch.
Yes that's right. Gods can have a pot belly.
And, yes, they can be underrated.

Dan Quisenberry might be one of the most underrated players in history. He's definitely the most underrated closer.

It's hard to imagine a relief pitcher being more dominant than Mariano Rivera was from 1996 to 2006, a span of eleven years in which he was so infallible, he should have been called the Pope Mariano I. He had a ridiculous 2.02 ERA. He closed out 413 games. He won the Rolaids Relief Award four times. However, no relief pitcher had as dominant a run as Dan Quisenberry did from 1980 to 1985. And we mean no one.

The title "The Greatest Hitter Who Ever Lived" does not belong to Ty Cobb. Nor is it Barry Bonds to hold. It's hard to believe, but it's not even Babe Ruth's.
"The Greatest Hitter Who Ever Lived" is, however, a two-time Triple Crown winner, the last hitter to bat .400 in a single season, and the holder of the highest batting average of any member of the 500 home run club.
His swing was damn-near perfect.
He spoke in CAPITAL LETTERS.
He served his country during two wars, giving up, in all probability, at least 150 career home runs during that time. He was John Glenn's wingman and was honored by Douglas MacArthur.
He is Thumper, The Kid, The Splendid Splinter and Teddy Ballgame.
He is Theodore Samuel Williams.

On Oct. 7, 1991, David Cone took the hill against Jim Fregosi's Philadelphia Phillies and already had a 3-run lead.
The Phillies were barely ahead of the Mets in the standings going into that final day, but both squads were 20 games back of first place.
No one expected anything special in this game.
Especially not with the Phillies starting lineup of shortstop Kim Batiste, second baseman Mickey Morandini, left fielder Wes Chamberlain, right fielder Dale Murphy, third baseman Dave Hollins, first baseman Ricky Jordan, center fielder Braulio Castio and catcher Doug Lindsey.
Then again, maybe fans should have expected something special. Dale Murphy was aging more quickly than an apple slice on an August day. Hollins and Morandini would each make all-star teams for weak National League squads in the future, but the Phillies' real offensive thunder of Darren Daulton, Lenny Dykstra and John Kruk were MIA.
David Cone, however, was concerned he was going to be arrested. He knew he was under investigation for rape. He didn't know, at the time, that the police would find the woman's allegations to be unfounded.
All David Cone could do on the mound that day was ecape from fear.
And he did.

Talk about being overshadowed. Dom DiMaggio grew up in the same household as Joe DiMaggio, so that meant the bespectacled San Franciscan had a brother who hit in 56 consecutive games, married Marylin Monroe and became a baseball icon known as "The Greatest Living Ballplayer."
Then DiMaggio has to share the outfield with Ted Williams. All the Splendid Splinter did was become the last player to hit .400 for a full season, win not one but two triple crowns and become "The Best Hitter Who Ever Lived."
So Dom DiMaggio was towered over by two of the biggest legends in sports history.
Which makes it hard to put his career in perspective.

In honor of the 62nd anniversary of Major League Baseball's proudest moment, we take a look at the career of Jackie Robinson.
Several years ago someone made the comment that had Jackie Robinson not been the player who broke the color line he'd barely be remembered and wouldn't have had a shot at the Hall of Fame.
After careful consideration - and the possibility that the speaker was on heavy doses of medication and we were not aware of it - we are keeping that speaker anonymous.
However, to consider Robinson's career and not include his racial accomplishments would be ludicrous. That's the way it happened. It would be like considering Babe Ruth's career had he never hit a home run.
That said, even if you were to take away Robinson's courageous moment he would still be a baseball immortal.

Vida Blue was a man of his times: the 1970s.
Just like the decade he had his fare share of brilliance (three twenty seasons, three World Series rings) and confusion (four seasons of 13 losses or more). Think about movies in the decade. You have some of the best of all time (the two Godfather films, "Jaws," "The Sting," Network," "Chinatown," Star Wars, "The Exorcist") yet you had some clunkers that were inexplicable. (Andy Worhol's "Dracula," "Night of the Lupus" - yes a movie about killer rabbits. Only Monty Python can pull that off, whoever made Lupus was an idiot.)
And of course, since it was the 70s, drugs were involved.
So, to look at Vida Blue's career, you have to realize he's more 70s than the BeeGees.

You wouldn't think being a legend could minimize someone's impact on the game.
That being one of the most treasured icons in Major League Baseball history could keep people from understanding how great you are.

As a rookie in 1982, Kent Hrbek played in 140 games, hitting 301, slugging 23 homers, cracking 21 doubles and driving in 92 runs. But he didn't win the Rookie of the Year Award. Some kid name Ripken got in his way.
And the precedent was set: Someone would always steal Herbie's spotlight.