Adam Dunn entered the majors with a frame built for football and a swing built for the sky. He had been a quarterback at Texas before choosing baseball, and that decision gave the sport one of its most memorable power hitters of the 2000s. Dunn’s arrival in Cincinnati felt like a jolt. His first full season produced 128 walks and 26 homers, and people in the city began talking about him the way they once talked about raw sluggers from earlier eras.

Dunn became famous for the way he eliminated the middle ground. His at-bats almost always ended with a home run, a walk or a strikeout. It wasn’t a style that scouts of the time celebrated, but it anticipated the way the sport would look a decade later when front offices began to value exactly that profile. He topped 40 home runs in five straight seasons and reached 462 for his career, a number that still surprises people who didn’t follow him closely.

Despite the strikeouts, Dunn was admired by teammates for his humor, honesty and clubhouse presence. He never pretended to be anything other than what he was: a patient hitter with enormous strength who could change a game with a single swing.

Vince Coleman joined the St. Louis Cardinals at a moment when the franchise was trying to revive the high-speed identity it had shaped under Whitey Herzog. Coleman had been a college football kicker at Florida A&M before turning fully to baseball, and the Cardinals saw in him the purest kind of baserunning weapon. He rewarded that belief immediately. In 1985 he stole 110 bases, the most by a rookie in league history, and the local press treated him as the new engine of the team’s small-ball attack.

His value went beyond the stolen bases. Coleman forced pitchers to speed up their work and infielders to play in uncomfortable spots. That pressure helped shape the Cardinals’ offensive style during multiple postseason runs, including their 1985 and 1987 National League pennants. Coaches often pointed out how quickly he read pitchers, and how much his confidence set the tone for the rest of the lineup.

His time in St. Louis had its flaws, including stretches of inconsistency and the occasional run-in with the media, but his impact on the field was unmistakable. Coleman kept alive a brand of Cardinals baseball that relied on movement, instinct, and the threat of chaos every time he reached first base.

1987 Topps Tiffany Pete Rose

Something we’ll probably never see again in baseball is the true player/manager — and Pete Rose was the last of that rare breed.

Back in the mid-80s, Rose wasn’t just chasing hits… he was running the Reds from the dugout and still stepping into the batter’s box. It feels almost mythical today. With the size of coaching staffs, analytics teams, and the intensity of the modern game, the idea of a player managing while still lacing up just doesn’t seem possible anymore.

Cards tied to moments or roles we’ll never see again just feel special — and Rose closing the book on the player/manager era further solidifies his mark on baseball history, no matter how everything ended.

don't let revisionist historians mislead you

All time great and probably the best Tiger of all time. Highest career batting average too!