DID YOU KNOW THAT ONE OF ONLY TWO PLAYERS TO HAVE SEVEN (7) HITS IN ONE MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL GAME WAS A DETROIT TIGER?! It was 10 years ago that a former Detroit Tigers shortstop passed away. No one will ever confuse this man with Alan Trammell, or even Eddie Brinkman, not by the longest of stretches, but he did something that has been rarely accomplished in history. For one day, Cesar Gutierrez played completely out of character and made himself a baseball immortal. It’s hard to believe in retrospect, but at one time Gutierrez was regarded as the Tigers’ shortstop of the future. He was actually signed by the Pittsburgh Pirates out of Venezuela in 1958, but the Bucs gave up on him quickly, releasing him only two seasons later. The five-foot, nine-inch shortstop then joined the Giants, toiling in their minor league system for the better part of four seasons before finally getting a call to San Francisco in 1967, after he had won the Pacific Coast League batting title. All in all, Gutierrez spent parts of nine seasons plying his trade in the minor leagues. The Giants liked his speed—he would steal 147 bases in the minor leagues and earn himself the nickname of “Bandito”—so they gave him cups of coffee in ‘67 and ’69. Gutierrez drew the attention of other teams and managers, in particular Preston Gomez, the skipper of the expansion San Diego Padres. “If we could make a deal,” Gomez told the San Francisco Examiner, “he’d be my starting shortstop.” In contrast, all Gutierrez could find in San Francisco was sparse playing time as a backup, since he was blocked by other middle infielders like Ron Hunt, Hal Lanier, and Tito Fuentes. So late in ‘69, the Giants made a trade, but not with the Padres. Instead, the Giants sent Gutierrez to the Tigers as the player to be named later in a deal for ageless reliever Don McMahon. The Tigers desperately needed a shortstop. They had lost the slick-fielding Ray Oyler in the expansion draft after the 1968 season, and a midseason trade for Tom Tresh had not solved the problem. Tresh left the Tigers lacking both offensively and defensively at the position, so they gave Gutierrez a late-season trial. The Tigers saw enough from the athletic Venezuelan to give him a look as their starting shortstop in 1970. Scouts from around the major leagues believed that the Tigers should choose Gutierrez over Tresh. One of those scouts was the New York Mets’ Bob Scheffing, who had been the manager of the Tigers in the early 1960s. “He’ll be Detroit’s best starting shortstop since Harvey Kuenn,” Scheffing told The Sporting News, “if they stick him in the lineup and leave him there.” Ultimately, the Tigers chose Gutierrez. They released Tresh in April of 1970, essentially ending the veteran’s career. That left Gutierrez as the No. 1 shortstop on Mayo Smith’s depth chart. With his easygoing manner and willingness to laugh at himself, Gutierrez fit in nicely in the Tigers’ clubhouse. He was something of a colorful character, with such a deep love of chocolate that he earned the nickname “Cocoa.” (Norm Cash preferred to call him Bandito.) Gutierrez didn’t speak much English, but his lack of familiarity with the language had little effect on his standing with his teammates. They accepted him gladly. He became especially close with Willie Horton, who often referred to “me and my man, Cocoa.” On the field, Gutierrez showed above-average range but also led American League shortstops in errors. Gutierrez’ hitting was even less impressive; it turned out to be almost nonexistent. He batted only .243, drew merely 18 walks, hit no home runs, and posted an OPS of .580. In summary, Gutierrez had no power and couldn’t hit. Well, with the exception of one fine day. On June 21 that summer, Gutierrez and the Tigers played against the Indians. The game lasted 12 innings, giving Gutierrez a chance to come to bat seven times. Batting second in the order (just ahead of Al Kaline), Gutierrez managed a double and six singles, with three of the hits coming via the infield variety. Thanks to his bat and his legs, Gutierrez carved out a modern major league record of seven hits in one game without recording an out. (The mark would later be matched by Rennie Stennett, a far more talented hitter.) With seven hits in seven at-bats, Gutierrez raised his batting average by 31 points—from .218 to .249—in one fell swoop. His performance would eventually merit a display at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. But at the time, it didn’t create the stir that it should have. Cleveland’s public address announcer made only a token announcement after Gutierrez picked up his seventh hit. And no one bothered to keep a game-used ball from the accomplishment. “Nobody gave me one,” Gutierrez told Watson Spoelstra in a sad voice. After finishing out the season as the Tigers’ shortstop (and with no more hitting heroics in store), Gutierrez faced an immediate challenge to his job status. That winter, the Tigers pulled off the blockbuster Denny McLain deal with Washington, acquiring shortstop Eddie Brinkman as part of the return package. A far more accomplished and experienced shortstop than Gutierrez, Brinkman received the nod as the 1971 starter at shortstop. Gutierrez played out the ‘71 season as a utility infielder, but it was obvious that the Tigers did not regard him as part of their future. The following spring, they dealt him to the Montreal Expos for cash, but he would never actually appear in a game for the expansion franchise. Instead, Gutierrez was cut prior to Opening Day and was forced to report to Triple-A Peninsula, where he played only 12 games before drawing his release. He then signed with the San Diego Padres, who assigned him to Triple-A Hawaii. There are worse minor league stopovers than Honolulu, but it still wasn’t what a veteran like Gutierrez had in mind. After finishing out the season for Hawaii, he called it a career. For the most part, Gutierrez remained out of baseball in retirement. In fact, I don’t remember hearing his name until that day in 2005, when he died in his native Venezuela at the age of 61. Outside of Detroit, his death drew few headlines and garnered little attention. Still, I remembered Gutierrez, as did all those diehard Tigers fans of a certain age. How could you not? His performance on a single day in 1970 will always keep him separated from the dozens of other light-hitting shortstops and utility infielders whose names can be found on the pages of Baseball-Reference. For one day, Cesar Gutierrez was the second coming of Ty Cobb.
Posted on: Tue, 27 Jan 2015 01:04:29 +0000
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