The Wow

That leaves three others – Fred Lynn, Carlos Beltrán and Torii Hunter, who posted a 113 OPS+ in 3,038 trips to the dish in his age-35 season and beyond.  Additionally, he compiled an 11.8 bWAR, a little less overall value than the aggregated efforts of Snider, Mantle and Griffey (who combined  for a 12.9 after their age-34 seasons).  Hunter’s final years were both a surprising twist on his career and so perfectly aligned with what stood out throughout his time on Major League diamonds – a knack for producing delighted responses of “wow.”

With apologies to Brad Radke, Johan Santana, Joe Mays, Kyle Lohse, Eric Milton, LaTroy Hawkins, Eddie Guardado, Joe Nathan and the rest of the hurlers who took the mound for Minnesota during Hunter’s reign in center field, if a Twins game was on the screen, there was at least some part of the viewer that whispered to the pitcher, “Go ahead, serve something up that’s fat and enticing.”  If that sorta wish came true, then there was the chance that the next instant would see Hunter gliding or racing, definitely tracking, coordinating his strides to take measure of the wall and the descending fly, and then leap and steal something away from the batter who thought he had done enough.  Ball secured, smile gleaming (and perhaps matching the one on a wish-fulfilled face of a spectator – dream come true!), Hunter would return the ball toward the pitcher, as if to say, “Security detail – present and accounted for.”  So much wow.  So much happiness anticipating and then witnessing the wow.

Hunter rode that attraction and flair to nine consecutive Gold Gloves, the nine placing him alongside Willie Mays, Ken Griffey, Jr. and Andruw Jones as the only center fielders to win that many (or more).  There was the 2002 All-Star Game Catch, an elongated expression of that happiness within the anticipate-witness experience, one that thrilled viewers and participants alike.  There was the nickname – Spider Man – that meshed sports and pop culture in such an expressive and instantly aha way.  There was the other moniker – the Soul Patrol – given to Hunter and his corner mates Jacque Jones and Matt Lawton:  a roll-of-the-tongue encapsulation of how fly balls and sinking liners were in constant danger in the early 2000s.  Hunter had that kind of draw, an invitation to revel and nestle inside the artistry that can spring out of a ballgame.  

When he wasn’t using outfield walls to help shape his pizazz, Hunter complemented the draw from the batter’s box – that origin point for so much disappointment experienced by opposing hitters seeing their drives find a final resting place in his glove.  A steady stream of 20-homer seasons began in 2001, the year Hunter and his Twins teammates carried a wave of enthusiasm and spark toward a 16-win improvement and a jubilant rise from the basement in the AL Central to a second-place finish.  

From that season through 2007, Hunter averaged 25 longballs a year – certainly not stop-the-presses kind of tallies, but a significant contribution that helped the Twins pile up a quartet of division titles.  This was his place in the game:  an occasional All-Star, a consistent, if not spectacular offensive cog, a generator of awesome moments over the course of his outfield patrols.  As he moved deeper into his 30s, there was no real reason to expect his decline to shape differently than so many of the other good, not great center fielders who had given so much of their bodies in the quest to turn hits and homers into outs.  He exited Minnesota after the 2007 season as a 32-year-old with a career 104 OPS+, seemingly facing the quieter, less blazing portion of his career.

The next seven campaigns transformed his story by shifting his balance of contributions – instead of otherworldly, highlight-heavy gloveman in center, Hunter – first with the Angels and then with the Tigers (and first while still in center and then after a move to right field) – developed a more robust presence at the plate.  He posted a 120 OPS+ from his age-32 through age-38 seasons.  He secured his first two Silver Sluggers.  He outpaced his Twins-years All-Star selections, three to two.  From 2001-2007, he had compiled a 21.4 oWAR; 2008-2014 brought a 24.9.  The final burst – coming with the bat and not the glove – brought a different kind of wow than those years earlier when the leather was the originating author,  and in doing so added a layer or two to Hunter’s identity as a special kind of ballplayer.  There’s an inherent charm in this narrative zag, this reminder that the past is not always predictive, that past signatures cannot be fully traced to meet the swirls and dips of someone in the now, that career phases are not all of a similar trajectory.  In Hunter’s case, that reminder also allowed his career numbers (after a final campaign back in Minnesota) to get a bit closer to the immortals’.  

This piece’s opening started using 1,400 games in center as a baseline for exploration – under that same condition, Hunter ranks:

~Ninth in career home runs, right behind Joe DiMaggio

~Sixth in career doubles, one spot behind Ken Griffey, Jr.

~Seventh in career extra-base hits, between Mickey Mantle and DiMaggio

~Eighth in career RBI, between Mantle and Duke Snider

~15th in career times on base, a couple of spots ahead of Snider 

There’s joy in this narrative, too.  Not in an effort to raise Hunter’s status or Hall of Fame candidacy*, but to perhaps add perspective on what was a fascinating MLB life – an intrigue and magnetism, a wow, borne from eye-catching glovework, that gleeful smile that often followed the dashes and leaps in center, and that later-phase turn as a threat with the lumber.  What a cool career.

*Hunter has been on four previous Hall of Fame ballots, with his debut year in 2021 bringing him his highest percentage of votes (9.5). 

Thanks to Baseball Reference and its extraordinary research database, Stathead, for help in assembling this piece.