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Byline: Phil Rogers
CHICAGO _ Many of my peers find two first-timers on the latest Hall of Fame ballot worthy for election. I wish I could agree because, like just about everyone else who came into contact with him, I loved dealing with Dennis Eckersley.
But Paul Molitor, he of 3,319 hits and a .369 career on-base percentage, is the only one of the 15 first-timers I will be voting for.
Eckersley was a delight during his run as the Oakland Athletics' ninth-inning gunslinger. With his brown hair flopping out from under his yellow cap, he had a youthful flair that he carried with the wisdom of age. Win or lose_and the A's usually won_he was available at his locker for post-game interrogation.
He hardly ever ducked a question, unless it was about some of his "sliders" which dived a little more than physics normally permits. In that period of time, he was one of baseball's treasures.
Many see Eckersley has a Hall of Famer because he had two careers_one as a hard-throwing young starter and the other as a wizened closer with unprecedented precision. He was only 20 when he threw a shutout in his major-league debut for Cleveland, 22 when he tossed a no-hitter and 23 when he won 20 games.
But arm problems and heavy drinking took a toll on the Eck, who averaged less than 11 victories during his last seven seasons as a starter. That included an eventful 1984, when he helped the Cubs win the National League East but lost his start in the championship series. He struggled the next two seasons before quietly checking himself into a treatment center in Rhode Island to get a handle on his drinking. The Cubs, apparently unaware he was a different man, traded him to Oakland, where he enjoyed a renaissance after Tony La Russa put him in the bullpen.