The Guy Who Pees on His Hands?

Baseball fans love to look at "the old days" through nostalgia colored glasses. Everyone from grandpa right own down to junior loves to talk about the players they saw "growing up" and how much better the game was then. Unfortunately for my generation and younger, the players I saw "growing up" were primarily synthetic...chemically enhanced sluggers with muscles like the Ultimate Warrior and tempers shorter than Lord Littlebrook. I will admit, however, I am guilty of doing just that. Despite the cloud that hangs over "my generation's" ballplayers, I fondly reflect on the days of Junior, Edgar, and The Big Unit. As is always the case, the grass is always green 10 years ago. Despite the fact that (even at the age of 9) I recognized that Cal Ripken Jr. was kind of a jerk, I'll never forget my father calling me downstairs to watch the Iron Man break the Streak on ESPN. I can vividly remember being 10 years old and sitting in awe as the '96 Yankees did the impossible. The only times in my life I woke up early for school was September of 1998, when I would sprint downstairs to the TV to see if McGwire or Sosa had smacked another tater. Yes, the "olden days" were the good ones...a simpler time if you will. But as the celebrated philosopher Joel once said "The Good Ol' Days weren't all that good". Mitchell Reports, Canseco books, and testimonies have cast the shadow of doubt on many of those far-gone days of youth. I desperately cling to the idea that none of my beloved M's were using...I've never seen Griffey, Buhner or Martinez's name on one of those dreaded "LISTS", which helps me sleep at night. However, that does not mean I must destroy my nostalgia glasses. I can still put them on and take a gander at 90s baseball...I just have to look harder to find the special ones. The "clean" ones. The players who I may have not been appreciating at the time...mainly because what 11 year old is thinking about OPS or outfield assists. Just the other day, I slipped ol' frames on and found myself a diamond in the rough. A player whose name isn't exactly rolling off the tongues of baseball fans in '09...perhaps because we haven't seen his name in connection with the Cream or the Clear. No, the only performance enhancer this man was using was his own urine...I'm talking about Moises Alou.

Perhaps you’re saying MOISES ALOU?!? THE GUY WHO PEED ON HIS HANDS?!? THE GUY WHO COULDN'T PLAY 3 GAMES IN THE '08 METS?!? WHO CARES ABOUT HIM!...If you are saying that, I'd ask you to please stop shouting...people probably think you are crazy. If you are indeed shouting, read on. But perhaps you are not yelling these things...perhaps you too remember Felipe's son fondly. If you are one of those, I invite you to take a walk down memory lane with me. Don't forget those glasses though...

Moises Alou was far from a flashy player. At 6'3, 190 pounds, he lacked the imposing Popeye-esque figure we became accustomed to during his era. Despite being picked 2nd overall by Pittsburgh in 1986, he didn't exactly burst onto the scene in a "major market"...called up by the Pirates in 1990 and almost immediately moved to one of the biggest baseball cities of all time, Montreal, as a faceless "player to be named later." It seemed Moises was on his way to being just a blip on the baseball radar...another member of the storied Alou family if nothing else. 2 years later however, the fates converged in Quebec, and Moises was called up to play left field for the Expos and their new manager Felipe Alou (or as Moises called him "Dad"). 341 At-Bats later, Alou finished 2nd in the National League Rookie of the Year voting, after batting .282 with 9 HRs and 56 RBIs. As the years progressed, so too did Moises...getting better and better with each passing year. The 1994 season was particularly noteworthy...an impressive .339 batting average, coupled with 22 HRs and 79 RBIs. Even more impressive than the numbers was the fact that it seemed like FINALLY baseball in Montreal was becoming relevant. The 'Spos were flying high and looking like the team to beat in the National League...until the season came to a screeching halt. The infamous strike left many casualties in its wake, none greater perhaps than the state of baseball at Olympic Stadium. The Expos were left stranded 34 games over .500 and Alou finished 3rd in a tainted MVP ballot. Baseball returned, but the Expos (and Alou) never got the taste of October baseball they were certainly going to have in '94. In the winter of '96, Alou signed a contract with another losing organization...the Florida Marlins. The Marlins had only played 3 seasons with nary a winning record to speak of. At the outset of the '97 season, not many gave the Fish a second thought. But, without warning, the Men in Teal became For Real, in large part due to Alou’s career high in HRs (23) and his first 100 RBI season. The Marlins charged all the way to the World Series, where they shocked the heavily favored Cleveland Indians in 7 games. Alou hit the cover off the ball during the Fall Classic, belting 3 homers and swinging to the tune of a .321 clip. The Marlins were improbable champs and Alou was their improbable star. However, owner Wayne Huizenga did his best Rachel Phelps impression (hopefully Jim Leyland had a nude cardboard cut-out of him in the locker room during the '97 run) and completely gutted the team, auctioning off his stars to the highest bidder...Alou was shipped to Houston in return for future stars Manuel Barrios, Mark J. Johnson, and Oscar Henriquez.

Alou's stint in Houston had its high highs and low lows...The highest of highs came in his debut season as a 'Stro. The 1998 Astros club is destined to forever be on a "Prime 9" of "Best Teams to Never Win a World Series." Stocked top to bottom with All-Star level talent (even before the 11th hour trade for Randy Johnson),Houston, racked up 102 victories. Our hero had an incredible season, posting an average of .321 to go with his 38 HRs and 124 RBIs. His season has been largely overlooked by history, thanks to the Baseball Saving Maris Chase presented by BALCO. Unfortunately for Houston (and everyone really) the San Diego Padres improbably blew them away in the ALDS (in large part because neither Alou, Bagwell, nor Biggio batted over .200...just saving you the trouble of bringing that up in the comments section.)

'99 however, was marred by a treadmill accident unlike any since the Saget-Era America's Funniest Home Videos. Alou tore his ACL and missed the whole season. He'd return for the final 2 years of his contract with Houston and didn't miss a beat...two Top 20 MVP finishes, a .342 average, 57 HRs, and 222 RBIs (combined, he had the type of season Alex Rodriguez used to have on my MLB '99 game for Playstation.)

His next stop was Chicago for three seasons, where, despite injuries, he was able to put forth an average of 25 dingers, 86 ribbies and a .283 clip. Admittedly a step down from his days in Texas (an All-Star appearance and a Top 15 MVP finish notwithstanding) but, as is always the case, his team enjoyed success, coming one Steve Bartman error away from the Fall Classic.

Alou's career was clearly winding down at this point. He headed to the Giants to play for his father one more time, but injuries and a crummy team made the stint largely forgettable. So just to refresh your memory...he hit over .300 both years and was selected to his 6th All-Star game in 2006.

When the 40 year old Alou left San Fran for Shea, many thought his career had reached that embarrassing "Jerry Rice the Seahawk, Gaylord Perry the Mariner" stage. He came out of the gate strong however in 2007, batting .318 in his first month. A torn quad muscle knocked him out til August, and it seemed Alou's career had ended. However, someone apparently forgot to inform Moises, as he returned in August better than he had been in years. A .345 batting average and a 30 game hitting streak (the longest ever for a 40+ year old player) later, it seemed the Mets were bound to give the A-Man one more crack at his 2nd ring...but, like in Montreal, a work stoppage ended the Mets season and denied the Flushing Faithful a chance at October baseball....just ask any Met fan. Unfortunately, Alou's career ended with a whimper after the roar. An injury while rehabbing at Double A Binghamton spelled the end for our hero.

And so ends The Ballad of Moises Alou. He leaves a legacy of .303, 332, 1287, 2134, 6 Top 20 MVP finishes, 6 All-Star games, 4 Postseason Trips and a World Series ring. Then why do we remember him as the injury prone guy who peed on his hands? I didn't write this article to suggest the man deserves a plaque in Cooperstown. He was hurt too much, didn't hit in the playoffs enough, and was never a player pitchers quaked at the thought of facing. No no, I wrote this article to celebrate the career of a consummate professional, a winning player, a steroid era star with no asterisks. I wrote it because I wanted to remind people that there were pure ballplayers in the 1990s. I wrote it because I wanted to reminisce about a childhood favorite and a man I've always respected.

I'll never forget a bet I made with a bitter Mets fan in '07. As he whined about Alou's injury issues and called him a "waste", I bet him a beer that my boy would hit at least 10 HRs that season. He laughed, shook my hand and said "I can't wait for that beer."

I've never had a better tasting Coors Lite.