I’M not sure if he belongs in Cooperstown, but if there is a Hall of Fame for guts, then that is where John Franco is headed.
If there is a place where they commemorate the things that really count, like determination and loyalty and being a good teammate when it is all too easy to act like a jerk, then John Franco belongs there, too.
If they give out plaques for never forgetting where you come from, physically or spiritually, start measuring John Franco for that one as well.
Franco has 422 saves, and it is unlikely he’ll ever get another one, whether he decides, at 41 years old, to give his improbable career one more go.
But I wouldn’t bet against him, because the odds against a guy built like Franco – 5-9 on his tiptoes and 175 when he’s overweight, which is never – and with his borderline stuff even making it to the major leagues were astronomical to begin with.
That he was able to carve out 18 seasons, most of them as a closer, and wind up with the second-most saves in the history of baseball – a now-insurmountable 56 behind Lee Smith – is as remarkable a feat as has ever been accomplished in the game.
Franco never had great stuff. He was not going to burn out any radar guns or have guys hopelessly tossing their bats into the stands waving at his breaking balls.
His father was a garbageman and John Franco was what baseball types call a junkballer.
What he had was what boxing people call, euphemistically, the right “parts” for the job, which are located in a central location somewhat southwest of his throwing arm.
And all you need to do is replay his two showdowns with Barry Bonds in the 2000 NLCS to remember that.
Both times, he struck Bonds out in key situations and both times he did it the only way he realistically could, by getting him to chase that dinky little slider of his that, when he was throwing it right, traveled precisely 59 feet, six inches. No more, no less. Anything else, of course, would have been disastrous.
“He didn’t have great physical skill, but he epitomized New York with guts and determination,” Mike Piazza said when the bad news about the pain in Franco’s money elbow came down Wednesday night.
And, a sense of humor.
Franco had no illusions about what was in his arm, especially as he passed 40. One time, I asked him jokingly how he got away with throwing the junk he threw. “Easy, bro,” he said. “I make sure they swing at the bad stuff.”
Not long afterward, Franco was pitching in a father-son Wiffle Ball game at Shea and trying to sucker his own kid into flailing at that dying quail slider of his.
The kid, of course, knew his dad’s act better than anyone. He waited for the old man to come in to him and then belted one over his head. Franco laughed. “He knows what to wait for,” he said.
It was Franco as much as any Met who insured there would be a Subway Series two years ago. Would you have preferred to see Armando Benitez facing Bonds, or anyone for that matter, with that kind of pressure on the line?
Franco, of course, had already fallen victim to the “bigger is better” syndrome when Benitez came along with his 98-mph heater.
He lost his closer job but never said a word against the manager or the man who replaced him. In fact, he went out of his way to help Benitez, to talk him through the rough times. In essence, he was helping to train the man who took his job.
But what else could you expect from a kid who grew up in Brooklyn and watched his father rise before the sun nearly every day of his life to pick up a city’s garbage? It was humbling, to be sure, and although there were those who characterized Franco’s symbolic wearing of an orange Sanitation Department T-shirt under his uniform as an affectation, others knew it was the gesture, however small, of a millionaire who never forgot he had been a blue-collar worker’s kid. Franco still lives in Staten Island, the most blue-collar borough in town. Is that an affectation, too?
Now that his career is apparently over, there will be campaigns for John Franco and his 422 saves to be enshrined in Cooperstown.
I’m not so sure. Not because of the pitcher Franco was, but because of the questionable nature of the stat by which he made his living. And in many ways, Franco’s record was achieved as much on guts and guile and determination and just plan stick-to-itiveness as it was on raw ability.
Closers have become an essential part of baseball, and the eight-inning game is what every team strives for.
Four hundred twenty-two times, John Franco shortened the game for his team.
Too bad the game couldn’t have been just a little bit longer for John Franco.
Does Franco Belong in the Hall?
Mets reliever John Franco left unanswered the question of whether he would retire during a press conference yesterday. The left-hander is out for the season after an MRI discovered injuries to his medial-collateral ligament and flexor tendon in his pitching elbow. Should Franco, now No. 2 in all-time saves, decide to call it quits, the new question will be: Is he worthy of induction into the Hall of Fame?
Here’s a comparison of Franco’s career to those of the other career saves leaders and a sampling of Post readers’ responses to the question:
READER REACTIONS
Robbie621: Hall of Fame? Maybe if he buys a ticket. The fact Johnny Meatballs has the second most saves of all time shows how misleading that category is. If he never pitches again, I will miss seeing him wildly celebrating getting out of the seventh inning in game against Florida in April. Someone on the Mets will have to step up to wear their hat backwards and wave a towel.
Tom Flannery: Don’t bury me ’cause I ain’t dead yet, said Elvis Costello. I say Franco ain’t done yet. He can have the surgery and come back. What else would Johnny rather do? I say let him make a comeback and then we’ll see if he’s Hall of Fame or not.
E O’Lee: Franco is essentially a journeyman relief pitcher. Nothing special or extra ordinary, a good solid pitcher who does a competent job.
Eric: Since when does playing on TWO teams make you a journeyman? And how many “nothing special” pitchers are there with 422 saves? Franco is a Hall of Famer, period.
Juan Cedeno: John Franco is not only the best left-handed relief pitcher in the majors, he is a classy guy. Much respect should go to Johnny for all he is as a player and all he means to New York. Franco is the best example of what a N.Y. player should be: a picture of N.Y. sports. If Franco retires … then i want to say this “thank you Johnny for all the years, memories and hard work you have given for the sport you love so much it has truly been a pleasure watching you give so much for The Mets.” The Hall awaits.
Big New Yorker in Texas: Agreed, [Franco’s] the top lefty of all time and second all-time in a major pitching catagory. The guy can’t help it if all he did was get the job done. He’s in if saves mean anything, and they do!