Rubino: Why not a Franchise Four for mere mortals?

To paraphrase Claude Raines’ sardonic policeman in “Casablanca,” when told about gambling at Rick’s Cafe, it’s shocking, simply shocking. Major League Baseball’s public relations-driven Franchise Four vote was revealed last week, amid much fanfare, and the results are a resounding DUH.

You could even call them boring.

Willie Mays, Barry Bonds, Willie McCovey and Buster Posey are the Giants’ Franchise Four, and Jimmie Foxx, Reggie Jackson, Dennis Eckersley and Rickey Henderson are the fans’ favorites for the A’s. And while an argument could have been made for Juan Marichal, or for Catfish Hunter or Bert Campaneris, there’s no demand for a recount. Al Gore is nowhere to be seen. It’s not exactly reminiscent of hanging chads in Florida in 2000.

But let’s try something a little different, maybe a bit subversive. Let’s give the Giants and Athletics franchises an irreverent, sideways look and come up with an alternative to wildly popular stars. Enough with attention on the same-old all-time greats. Let’s shine a spotlight on mere mortals.

Introducing the Frowned-Upon Franchise Four.

From the A’s Philadelphia era (1901-54), Bullet Joe Bush.

If you’ve ever heard the baseball saying “you have to be a really good pitcher to lose 20 games in a season” and wondered what sort of bizarro logic is being applied, check out Bush’s numbers for 1916, when he lost 24 games but his 15 wins were nearly half of the team’s total of 37, and he had a 2.57 earned-run average, 25 complete games, eight shutouts and a 1.228 WHIP - for a team that lost 117 games.

From the A’s Kansas City years (1955-67), Ken “Hawk” Harrelson.

The “Hawk” became a free agent eight years before players collectively won that right. He didn’t need no stinking arbitrator. In 1967, he just needed to call owner Charlie Finley “a menace to baseball,” and just like that he got his unconditional release.

Harrelson immediately tripled his salary by signing with the Red Sox, appeared in the World Series, where he went 1-for-13, then signed an even more lucrative deal with Boston. He retired in 1971 with a .239 career batting average.

Moving on to the A’s Oakland years (1968-present), Jeremy “Slide!” Giambi.

In Game 3 of the 2001 playoffs, with the A’s one win from advancing to the league championship series and trailing 1-0 in the seventh inning, Giambi tried to score from first on Terrence Long’s double. Although the throw from the outfield missed both cutoff men, Derek Jeter, running across the first-base line in a desperate effort to back up the play, snagged the ball and backhanded it to catcher Jorge Posada, who tagged out the non-sliding Giambi as he crossed the plate.

The A’s still seek a return to the World Series for the first time since 1990.

Also from the A’s Oakland era, Brian “Don’t Call Me Dave” Kingman.

If Bullet Joe Bush wasn’t Kingman’s hero, he should’ve been. In 1980, Kingman won eight and lost 20, but his earned-run average (3.83) was OK, he yielded fewer hits (209) than innings pitched (211) and his 10 complete games included a shutout.

The Giants’ Frowned-Upon Franchise Four include two from the team’s New York years (1883-1957) and two from its San Francisco era (1958-present):

Hank “Spyglass” Schenz and Sal “Not The Barber” Yvars.

According to author Joshua Prager in “The Echoing Green,” in the Giants’ “miracle” pennant-winning season of 1951, Schenz, a seldom-used infielder, used a telescope from the center field clubhouse at the Polo Grounds to steal opponents’ signs and relay them to the bullpen, where Yvars, a rarely used catcher, would then relay them to Giants batters.

Johnnie “Boo” LeMaster.

Playing parts of 11 seasons for the Giants, LeMaster combined anemic hitting, below-average fielding and erratic baserunning (although he stole 39 bases in ’83, he was caught 19 times). Fans at Candlestick weren’t bashful in letting LeMaster know how they felt, but the beleaguered shortstop showed a sense of humor once, replacing his name on his jersey with the letters B-O-O.

Rennie “Show Me The Money” Stennett.

Representing the Giants’ first foray into free agency, Stennett, an underachieving second baseman formerly with the Pirates, signed a $3.25 million, five-year contract before the 1980 season, a king’s ransom in those days. After 158 tepid games spread over two seasons, the Giants parted ways with Stennett, although it would be another three years before they parted with his salary.

Maybe next year MLB will loosen up and conduct a more irreverent poll. And then maybe Yankees fans can step away from worshipping at the Ruth-Gehrig-DiMaggio-Mantle shrine, have some fun and vote for, say, wife-swapping pitchers Mike Kekich and Fritz Peterson. Hey, it was the 70s.

Robert Rubino can be reached at RobertoRubino@comcast.net.