Day Thirty Four: Jim Presley

My dad and sister used to call Jim Presley, Jim Parsley pretty much all the time. I am fairly certain that at one point I thought that his name was actually Parsley. I may have thought that in turn, the singer of the song, "You Aint Nothin But a Hound Dog" was also named Elvis Parsley. I don't know. I was a very strange child in some ways. But whatever his actual name was, Jim Parsley was one of those Mark Langston, Alvin Davis type of figures that was there when baseball became real to me. It's such an interesting thing to have players just exist. Now that I am an adult and I have watched careers begin, end, and even result in HOF speeches, there are whole books for a generation of players. But for those players that started in the late 70s and early 80s, they were always just there. Occupying the world of baseball as though they had never been rookies themselves. Nor would they retire and fade. There were great players amongst this group and they would be the first players that I watched finish their careers: Dave Winfield, Ozzie Smith, George Brett. Guys who were pretty much the epitome of baseball. And there were other guys, like Jim Presley, who were large and vivid for a time and then just faded away suddenly. But what kind of player was Jim Presley?

I needed to go back and look at the Baseball Reference to clarify Presley's career. In my mind he was a guy who played decent third base and had pre McGwire power numbers (20ish homers per year). This is about accurate. The defense is apparently not as good as I remembered (although defensive WAR is dubious to say the least), but his power numbers were pretty solid and he made an all-star appearance and got MVP votes in 1986. I think I might have thought that he was related to my dad at one point because they were both named Jim? I dunno. Like I said I was pretty interesting in my mind. But whoever Jim Presley was he was about average as a baseball player, finishing his 8 year career with 0.3 WAR. But for a very young fan of the Mariners he was the starting third baseman and he hit dingers. And for a kid who is utterly captivated by baseball and especially by the Mariners that is all it took to be immortal.

I haven't really talked about it in this series yet, but there is a feeling for me about those early Mariners teams from 86 to probably 91 when I became a more sophisticated thinker (lol) that is the feeling that only a child with that immediate sense of wonder and sincerity can have. Jim Presley was a Mariner, therefore he was amazing and he was good. He played for my team! The team that I had on my hat! The team that my dad took me to watch at the stadium! Alvin Davis! Darnell Coles! Henry Cotto! These guys were legends! They were Mariners! It didn't matter to me if Jim Presley wasn't very good. He played on the team that I liked. And it didn't matter if the team that I liked wasn't very good. I wanted to draw pictures of them anyways. I wanted to use my promotional baseball bat toothbrush that hung on a M's logo baseball shaped hanger that stuck to the wall in the bathroom (anyone else remember that one?). I wanted to root for them and they seemed like they had always been there and would always be the same. The guys on the 88 Topps cards were going to be the Mariners that I rooted for the next year and then again the year after that. For a little kid time is something quite different. But after 89 Jim Presley was gone: traded to Atlanta for two players that I don't remember at all. And with that he disappeared out of my baseball life.

And really that was it for Presley. He played a full year with Atlanta in 90 and struggled the next year with the Padres and then that was it. He was out of the game. He played with the Mariners for exactly the same years as Mark Langston, but he is pretty much forgotten. He didn't return to have a showdown with his former club. He just stopped being able to compete at the major league level. I don't know if he has ever been invited to come back or an old-timers day or fanfest or whatever, but I would definitely go down and get Jim Presley to autograph my 1987 Diamond Kings card. For sure. Because the kid I was is still the guy I am now. I am just a little less gullible. And I hope that if they play baseball again I can help Winona see the game with those child's eyes. To see the fun of it all. The excitement of just being involved in it. To look at the thing as enjoyment and to never wonder what the team's record is. Because that is irrelevant. I had no idea that the Mariners were bad in 1987, or that Harold Reynolds was terrible at stealing bases (alas it is true), or that Jim Presley wasn't a vegetable garnish.