Johnny Damon grew up moving from Army base to Army base, which might explain why he always seemed comfortable wherever he landed. Baseball became the one constant, and by the time he reached the majors, he played with the looseness of someone who never looked overwhelmed by a new uniform or a big moment.

He first made his name in Kansas City and Oakland, then became a defining figure in Boston. As the leadoff hitter for the 2004 Red Sox, Damon set the emotional tone for a team that ended an 86-year championship drought. His two homers and six RBIs in Game 7 of the ALCS remain one of the most iconic performances in postseason history. Five years later, he crossed the rivalry line and helped the 2009 Yankees win another World Series, a rare achievement in baseball’s fiercest divide.

Damon finished with 2,769 hits, 235 home runs, and 408 stolen bases, a blend of speed, durability, and longevity that defined his era. He wasn’t just fast. He was always there when the stakes were highest.

David Nied occupies a unique place in Rockies history because he was there at the very beginning. After debuting with the Braves in 1992, he was selected by Colorado as the first pick in the expansion draft and was handed the ball for the first game in franchise history. That alone locked him into the record books.

Pitching at Coors Field before anyone understood how to survive there, Nied was asked to learn in public. Over parts of four seasons in Colorado, he made 41 starts, threw more than 240 innings, and struck out 146 hitters in conditions that punished every mistake. The ERA was inflated, but the assignment mattered. Someone had to take the mound while the franchise figured itself out.

Injuries shortened his career, and he was out of the majors by 1996, but his story is inseparable from the Rockies’ origin.

Doug Drabek made a career out of making hitters uncomfortable. He didn’t light up radar guns, but his sinker moved late, his slider stayed tight, and he never seemed rattled by traffic on the bases. That approach carried him from a quiet debut with the Yankees to the heart of the Pirates’ rotation at the start of the 1990s.

His defining season came in 1990, when he won 22 games and took home the National League Cy Young Award, leading Pittsburgh to the first of three straight division titles. Drabek became the steady presence on a team built for October, trusted to stop losing streaks and keep games from getting away. He followed that run with productive seasons in Houston and elsewhere, pitching into his late 30s.

Robby Thompson spent his entire career as one of the best second basemen in the National League, although it rarely felt that way nationally. He came up in an era ruled by Ryne Sandberg, whose star power and awards often eclipsed the quieter excellence happening in San Francisco. Giants fans saw it clearly, though: Thompson was the glue of the infield, a player who handled tough hops, worked deep counts, and found ways to help the team win even when attention went elsewhere.

He earned two All-Star selections, a Gold Glove, and a Silver Slugger, and in 1991 he hit for the cycle. By the time he retired, he held most of the franchise records for second basemen, from games played to home runs. His 1993 season, when he got on base at a .375 clip while anchoring the top of the order, showed how much value he provided beyond the box scores.

After his playing days, Thompson stayed in the game as a respected coach. He worked as a first-base and infield coach for the Giants and later joined the Mariners’ staff, eventually serving as Seattle’s interim manager for part of 2013. Players spoke highly of his attention to detail and his ability to make fundamentals feel simple.

Robby Thompson spent a decade overshadowed by a legend, but he left behind a legacy of his own: toughness, consistency, and the kind of baseball intelligence that keeps teams steady for years at a time.

Darren Daulton did not arrive as a finished product. He was a late bloomer, a minor league catcher who fought his way through injuries, doubts, and position changes before finally locking down a job with the Phillies in his late 20s. What followed turned him into one of the emotional leaders of one of baseball’s most unforgettable teams.

As captain of the 1993 Phillies, Daulton became the heartbeat of a club that played loud, reckless, and fearless. His raw power from the catcher position helped redefine what teams expected offensively from behind the plate. That season, he hit 24 home runs and drove the team through a pennant run that still lives in Philadelphia sports folklore.

Later in life, Daulton battled brain cancer and spoke openly about his fight, becoming a source of strength for fans well beyond baseball. His story became about more than wins and losses. It became about grit, vulnerability, and courage.

Darren Daulton is remembered not just for October heroics, but for the way he represented toughness, honesty, and the soul of a team.