McGinnity threw ball in stands--no doubt trying to brighten a child fan's day w/ souvenir ball...

Looking back at memories. Those were the days!

Mark Redman never arrived with hype, but he earned something just as rare: trust. When he debuted with the Twins in 1999, writers quickly labeled him a quiet competitor who worked fast, stayed calm, and never backed down from a tough lineup. That reputation followed him everywhere, especially to Detroit.

In 2003, the Tigers lost 119 games, one of the worst seasons in modern baseball history. Redman still won 14 of them. While chaos surrounded the rotation, he kept taking the ball and beating teams that were supposed to roll him. He even went into Yankee Stadium late that season and outpitched New York, one of the few moments all year when Detroit looked like the stronger club.

The press never called him flashy. They called him a bulldog and an innings-eater, the guy who steadied things when everything else tilted. After his playing days, Redman carried that same approach into coaching and international baseball, helping grow the game beyond the majors.

Chili Davis grew up in Jamaica, moved to Los Angeles as a kid, and learned baseball on Southern California sandlots before becoming one of the most reliable switch hitters of his era. He debuted with the Giants as a teenager in 1981 and, remarkably, was already facing Hall of Fame pitchers before he could legally drink. By the late 1980s, he had become a central piece of the Oakland A’s powerhouse lineup, helping them win the 1989 World Series while quietly putting together one of the steadiest offensive careers of his generation.

Davis finished with 350 home runs and nearly 1,400 RBIs, numbers built on patience as much as power. He was famous for his calm at-bats and once joked that wearing down a pitcher with foul balls was just as satisfying as taking him deep. One fun twist: he was famously afraid of flying early in his career and often traveled by bus or train when possible.

After retiring, Davis became one of the most respected hitting coaches in baseball, helping stars like Aaron Judge refine their approach. His influence ended up shaping two eras instead of one.

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.