The constant smile on Frank Thomas’ face radiated joy in every direction, non-stop for the entire time he discussed his election to the Hall of Fame.
The Big Hurt’s combination of relief – he didn’t know if he’d make it on the first ballot – and exultation meant one of baseball’s greatest all-around hitters of the 1990s had come full circle in the redemption factor.
Not that Thomas had undergone constant negatives – far from it. But he had enough baggage, enough conflict during his career to take a bit of the luster off an absolutely dominating offensive resume.
Even here, we’re being a bit picky. After all, Thomas will be the inside looking out from Cooperstown at the PED cheaters and short-cutters.
He had always approached his craft in a clean manner and said it as much from the earliest days when suspicion began to be cast upon muscle-bound colleagues who began pushing the statistical envelope into sci-fi territory.
Although Thomas disavowed a sense of vindication about doing things the right way in discussing his Hall of Fame election with 83.7 percent of the vote, he must’ve flashed back for one second to the 2000 American League MVP vote.
Despite his 43 homers and 143 RBIs in pacing the Sox to the AL Central title, he lost out to Jason Giambi, then of the A’s. Who’s clean and elected, and who’s got a smudge on his record now that will keep him out of Hall of Fame consideration?
By the scandalous standards of PEDs, Thomas’ drawbacks are a comparative blemish. He was no politician, courting the public and media. At times he could be a bit off-putting. I reviewed a 1998 audio interview in which Thomas refused to seize an active leadership role on the White Sox.
“Every day I felt I was supposed to do something special out in the field,” Thomas said. “Some people thought I was arrogant, but it wasn’t arrogance. It was me wanting to accomplish something every day. I put that upon myself, I was supposed to go 3-for-4 ever night, 4-for-4 every night, hit a home run every night. I mean that was just me.”
Thomas tried to take advantage of his fame by establishing Big Hurt Enterprises, an entertainment-oriented business. The business ran into trouble. Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf jumped in with financial assistance.
Thomas looked bad given this backing when he began tussling with team brass later in his career.
He refused to do the “shuttle run” in spring training, quarreling with manager Jerry Manuel. And in the afterglow of the 2005 World Series triumph in which an inactive Thomas got his first and only ring, he and GM Kenny Williams threw brickbats at each other when the latter decided the time had come to part ways. Thomas and Williams were two alpha males butting heads.
Yet the diplomatic relations were never completely severed because through all of Thomas’ faults and actions, Reinsdorf still had affection for him. In his first trip back to Chicago in 2006 with Oakland, Reinsdorf made a beeline past Thomas’ locker near the clubhouse entrance straight to see his old meal ticket in the trainer’s room. After his retirement, Reinsdorf quickly assured Thomas was back in the fold with a number-retirement ceremony and statue unveiling in 2010.
Reinsdorf has a titanic sense of loyalty. No doubt he could gaze beyond any immaturity and raging ego in Thomas to capture the better man in him. Older, wiser, and mellower, Thomas admits everything he has is due to his Sox tenure.
“I’m not afraid to talk about that,” he said of his earlier conflicts. “I have said right now. I’m a Hall of Famer and the Chicago White Sox have a lot to do with that. For me, leaving here was the hardest thing I had to do in my life. I wanted to start here and finish here and I didn’t get that chance. I felt it was taken away from me a little bit, but I had something to do with that.
“Sports are not fair. It happens to a lot of great players. So, for me, I wish I had just stayed here my whole entire career. I had to make that transition out west for a year. But it didn’t work out. I had a lot of time to think about that.”
“I saw it happen to Brett Favre and Shaq and a couple of other guys. When you are that big organization guy for so long, you feel like you are invincible and no one is invincible in pro sports.”
Having moved out to Las Vegas, where he began his second family, Thomas has now basically come back to Chicago to pump his own “Big Hurt Beer” brand while taking on assorted assignments for the Sox. The man is a hitting scientist who knows talent, having gone through the mill himself.
In another role last season as Sox pre- and post-game analyst on Comcast SportsNet Chicago, Thomas projected ahead to the callup of prime outfield prospect Avisail Garcia, just acquired from the Tigers. Sox execs led by GM Rick Hahn said Garcia was being tried out in center field in Triple-A to take advantage of his athleticism, despite his 240-pound stature.
But Thomas cautioned that Garcia would tear up his body playing center long-term in the majors. He added Garcia needed to play a less-stressful corner outfield position since his main job was to be a run producer. When Garcia was recalled, he played a couple of games in center, but settled in nicely in right field for the final six weeks of 2013. The speedy, energetic Adam Eaton recently was acquired by Hahn to play center, so Garcia is settled in right for 2014. Score one for Thomas’ perception.
At some point, the Sox have to put Thomas to work counseling pitch identification and working the count. This is an organization desperately in need of better on-base percentage and production with men on base. They have the absolute master in their employ.
“I took a lot of pride in that,” he said of his prime combination of power and patience. “Fortunately when I got here, Walt Hriniak was the hitting coach. He told me the first day: ‘I don’t want you coming in here thinking you are going to hit home runs every day. I don’t want to see another one of those players. They are a dime a dozen in the big leagues.’
“I told him right away that I’m not that guy. I’m a hitter. I like to hit. I’ll beat you with a single, I’ll beat you with a double. I’ll beat you with a walk. That was my goal. The more I felt I got on base, the more this chance had a chance of scoring runs and winning ball games. Walks to me felt like we were going to score runs.
“That’s where I prided myself. Just getting on base or getting the big hit.”
Sounds like the simple, but deadly effective, philosophy of a Hall of Famer.
