Dick Allen, 1942 - 2020

This must be the worst year ever for losing baseball stars of bygone days. Dick Allen has now joined the list that already included Lou Brock, Whitey Ford, Bob Gibson, Al Kaline, Joe Morgan, Tom Seaver, Jimmy Wynn, and Chicago favorites Glenn Beckert, Ed Farmer, and Jay Johnstone. Allen passed away today at his home in Wampum, Pennsylvania (the same town in which he was born on March 8, 1942).

    

DICK ALLEN

One of the most talented and enigmatic players of recent decades, Allen joined the White Sox in 1972 after eight seasons in the National League as “Richie” Allen. “Anyone who knows me well calls me Dick,” he said. “I don’t know why as soon as I put on a uniform it’s Richie. It makes me sound like I’m ten years old.” The Sox became Allen’s fourth team in four years when they acquired him from the Los Angeles Dodgers in exchange for lefthander Tommy John. 

     As he had done with his previous clubs, Allen marched to his own beat. He skipped batting practice, traveled separately from his teammates, and smoked on the bench. He showed up late even for the All-Star Game. Despite all this, he flourished with the Sox—at least for a while. Allen’s teammates liked and respected him, although they didn’t necessarily understand him. Manager Chuck Tanner hailed from New Castle, Pennsylvania, a stone’s throw from Wampum, and had known the Allen family for years. He blithely admitted that he had one set of rules for Allen and another for the rest of the club.

     The recalcitrant slugger responded, using his amazing strength and bat speed to terrorize American League pitchers in 1972. Allen clouted a then-club-record 37 homers to go with 113 RBIs and a .308 average as the Sox stayed in contention all year and jumped from ninth to third in A.L. attendance. “He made it fun,” general manager Roland Hemond said. “Dick got the fans out to the ballpark again.”

     Allen led the American League in homers, runs batted in, walks, on-base percentage, slugging, and on-base plus slugging (OPS) — and won the Most Valuable Player award in a landslide. A particular highlight was a doubleheader sweep of the Yankees on June 4 before a Bat Day crowd of 51,904 at Comiskey Park. In the nightcap, the Sox were trailing 4-2 in the bottom of the ninth when Allen blasted a three-run pinch-hit homer into the upper deck in left field.

     Allen seemed to be on his way to an even better year in 1973 before he missed the last three months of the season with a broken leg. In 1974, he missed the last three weeks by his own choice—but still led the league in home runs, slugging, and OPS. 

     Allen used the heaviest bat in the majors, a 42-ounce war club, and launched the most wicked line drives. He literally hit the ball through the back of a wooden seat on more than one occasion. He was also an alert and daring baserunner. He always wore a batting helmet in the field, a reminder of his days in Philadelphia, where fans pelted him with coins, batteries, and even bottles. White Sox fans showered Allen only with love, but even so, his attention span finally gave out during his third year in Chicago. He quit the team and went home on September 14, 1974.

      In his day, Allen was called a malcontent, a troublemaker, even a clown. He was none of those things. He was a quiet, introverted man who loved playing baseball but hated a lot of the stuff that went with it. If he had come along a decade or two later, his individualism would have been accepted and perhaps even celebrated. As it was, while few people claimed to know what made Allen tick, no one ever denied that he was a phenomenal talent. When Rich “Goose” Gossage was elected to the Hall of Fame, he was asked to name the player who had impressed him the most over the years. He chose Allen. “He’s the greatest player I’ve ever seen,” said Gossage.

 
 

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