WHYGAVS Third Baseman of the Decade: Aramis Ramirez

Absolute zero is the coldest temperature theoretically possible. Molecular movement slows to the point of near stoppage, preventing energy transfer from one molecule to another, leaving all energy at the lowest point possible. The snag is that this temperature cannot possibly be reached by any means because no matter how insulated the system, no matter how remote the nebula, nothing can be completely detached from the entropy of the universe. This is oddly comforting and is also the reason that even the Pittsburgh Pirates can have an all-decade team, even without a winning season. You can find the other entries in this series here.

Aramis Ramirez, 2000-2003

Seriously? Seriously. Let’s spend one paragraph talking about what Aramis Ramirez did as a Pirate this decade and multiple paragraphs ranting about how unbelievable it is that there isn’t someone else to pick for this spot. After the jump, of course.

After spending parts of three seasons with the Pirates and performing pretty terribly, Ramirez showed up in 2001 and started bashing the ball out of the park. At the age of 23. That year he hit 34 homers, 40 doubles, had a .300/.350/.536 line. He had quite literally made the leap in the most dramatic fashion possible. His first full year was the best season by any Pirate third baseman the entire decade, including Freddy Sanchez’s 2006 batting title year (at least it was using OPS+; Ramirez edged him out 122 to 119), and so he gets the nod at third base. Yes, that’s all it took.

It would seem, at first glance, that this would be where the story would start to get good. Very young player has big breakout age for last place team, inspiring turnaround ensues. Instead, things got ugly after this point. First, he signed a three-year, $9.5 million extension prior to the 2004 season that bought out at least two of his arbitration years (it was staggered at $500k, $3 million, $6 million and I’m not sure if Ramirez qualified for arbitration in 2002 because of how he bounced around prior to 2001, but there’s not much information available and the 2002 salary seems low). Ramirez seriously injured his ankle charging the mound in April 2002, but was never placed on the disabled list. Instead, he was allowed to hobble to a .666 OPS (I know!), and labeled as a lazy headcase that played poor defense. This is what we call a tragedy.

Suddenly, the contract extension that Ramirez had **just** signed was now viewed as a problem. While he had something of a bounceback year in 2003, the Pirates dumped him off to Chicago with Kenny Lofton, getting Bobby Hill, “Jose K” Hernandez, and Matt Bruback in return with Littlefield justifying the move by more or less saying that the Pirates simply had better ways to spend $6 million than on a fat, lazy, unreliable third baseman.

At this point, Ramirez became a perennial All-Star/MVP contender for the Cubs while the Pirates trotted out what I believe is known officially as a parade of shlubs (Shlubus paradius) at third base. If you’re keeping track at home, that would be Chris Stynes, Ty Wigginton, Bobby Hill, Joe Randa, Freddy Sanchez (this analogy’s version of the Shriners; the one cool part of a parade full of boring marching bands and fire trucks), then Jose Bautista, and now Andy LaRoche. Maybe LaRoche will break the cycle. Maybe Pedro Alvarez will. Maybe it will keep going.

Of course, this whole problem goes back further than 2001 or 2002, but instead to the 1998 expansion draft when Joe Randa wasn’t protected, necessitating Ramirez’s callup in 1998 that started his experience clock ticking about three years early. Had Ramirez been a rookie in, say, 2002 the way he should’ve been, this whole thing would’ve played out differently.

But it didn’t, and so the Pirates’ best third baseman of the entire decade played most of said decade for the Cubs.

Honorable mention: Because Freddy Sanchez is not eligible, no one. Though I’m still holding out hope for Andy LaRoche. And though his performance didn’t merit it, I’m going to mention Jose Bautista for the sole fact that Dave Littlefield managed to lose him in the Rule 5 draft, then actually made a trade to get him back in the same season.

Dishonorable mention: Cam Bonifay and Dave Littlefield for screwing the pooch on Ramirez. And also Ty Wigginton. And Chris Stynes. And Jose Hernandez. And Bobby Hill. And Joe Randa.