After my chat with
Peter Gammons a few weeks back, more than a few friends got in touch, less to comment on the piece than to say, “Talking with him must’ve been awesome! Was it awesome? Was he awesome? Could you quantify his awesomeness on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being “a little awesome” and 10 being “supremely, sublimely awesome”? [For the record, he’s at least a 9.]
Their comments confirmed what I’d long suspected: that Gammons is one of the few people in and around baseball who everybody loves: casual fans, harder-core fans, media critics, GMs, players, you name it. This got me to thinkin’: Are there others? Maybe! The following seven personalities head the list of candidates.
Trevor Hoffman, Milwaukee Brewers: He’s inherited the role of Ol’ Man Bullpen from Goose Gossage, Dennis Eckersley and the other long-timers who used to hold it. His decency and sense of accountability might have something to do with this: even after his don’t-call-us-we’ll-call-you forcible exile from the Padres last winter, Hoffman still managed to stave off Favreian expressions of bitterness and regret.
How he could mess it up: By changing his tune and publicly besmirching the fine fans of San Diego (“350 days per year of 75-and-sunny weather, and they had the temerity to boo me for blowing a save? A hex on their manicured lawns!”)
Torii Hunter, Los Angeles Angels: He’s one of the few A-list players who speaks his mind passionately and articulately, whether about performance-enhancing substances or his belief that today’s black players have a responsibility to promote the game to the next generation of black athletes. Hunter’s fearless play in centerfield (his face has eaten many a wall and warning track) and his back story (his substance-addicted father stole much of his initial signing bonus along with his first car) make it even more impossible not to root for him.
How he could mess it up: By adopting the eek-a-wall! defensive approach of teammate Bobby Abreu, or maybe just by hitting the mute button. We’ve become accustomed to hearing from him, so it’d be puzzling if he stopped embracing his role as a leader and spokesman.
Jim Leyland, Detroit Tigers: Most skippers either talk a good game or manage one; Leyland does both, combining salty bluster with strategic mastery. You come for the savvy tactics, you stay for the post-game sound bites (like “I’ve got medical people telling me it’s suicidal to play him in the outfield right now, basically,” uttered in reference to Gary Sheffield being pissed off about something or other).
How he could mess it up: By leaving Detroit the way he left Colorado 10-odd years ago: in a huff of burnout and recriminations. Alternately, he could accidentally torch a ballpark during one of his infamous mid-inning cigarette breaks.
David Ortiz, Boston Red Sox: I’m a Yankee fan and I love this guy. I do. Sorry. Unlike so many other superstars, he never makes the game feel like a chore, not even when he’s slumping. I still wish the Yanks would’ve considered brushing him back once or twice during the last half-decade, though. They let him lean over the plate with impunity, which might explain the damage he inflicted.
How he could mess it up: By having his name pop up in a non-scurrilous published report that includes the words “anabolic,” “Deca Durabolin” or “elevated estrogen levels in his bloodstream.”
Joe Posnanski, scribe: The Ohio-bred, Kansas City-based writer pumps out somewhere in the neighborhood of 47,500 words per week for The Kansas City Star, Sports Illustrated and his blog on a range of baseball and pop-culture topics. I can’t think of a single reason why you should be reading this instead of something written by Posnanski. (Actually, I can: There are more boobies in these here parts.)
How he could mess it up: By becoming bestest pals with shouty cretin Jay Mariotti, then abandoning his typewriter for one of those low-rent cable shows where sportswriters in ill-fitting suit jackets talk on top of one another. 
Dontrelle Willis, Detroit Tigers: He grabbed us a few years ago with his wicked-stretchy mound mechanics and the big smile that perpetually creased his face. There’s an almost palpable joyousness in the way he bounds off the mound after a strikeout and in his interactions with teammates. He’s the bizarro-world Kevin Brown.
How he could mess it up: By failing to relocate the strike zone. We all loved Steve Avery and Jim Abbott, too, until their performance plummeted and their mood cratered alongside it.
Evan Longoria, Tampa Bay Rays: He does everything right, and not just on the field. He says the right things—he might not give good quote, but he sticks around to answer every query—and, at age 23, carries himself with the confidence of a veteran. Also, he hits the living crap out of the ball.
How he could mess it up: By either signing with or forcing a trade to the Yankees. Duh.