Barry Zito vs. Tim Hudson will flash A's fans back to better times
Tim Hudson was the first one to arrive, and the former Auburn star came in armed with a sinker as wicked as his sense of humor, displaying both as he went 11-2 as a rookie in 1999.
The next year he was joined in the rotation by former No. 1 draft picks Mark Mulder and Barry Zito, lefties who would bookend Hudson in what became the majors' top pitching staff.
Young, confident and charismatic, the Big Three did more than help the A's reach the playoffs in four consecutive seasons after several lean years. They brought swagger back to Oakland.
By finally giving in to popular sentiment and deciding to start Zito on Saturday against Hudson and the San Francisco Giants, followed by Sunday's ceremony honoring the Big Three, the A's are providing their fans a chance to indulge in nostalgia for a glorious time in the early 2000s, when the club averaged 98 wins over a four-year stretch.
Considering the misery they've endured this season, it's the least the club could do.
The A's are virtually assured of finishing last in the American League West, and they may lose 90-plus games for the first time in Billy Beane's tenure as general manager, which began after the 1997 season.
That was a forgettable time in the team's history, as the sustained success Oakland enjoyed during the benevolent ownership of the Haas family – including World Series appearances in 1988, '89 and '90 – gave way to a period of austerity under Steve Schott and Ken Hofmann, who purchased the team in 1995.
Longtime fixtures like GM Sandy Alderson and manager Tony La Russa left town, and star first baseman Mark McGwire was traded in the middle of 1997, one of six consecutive losing seasons the A's endured.
From those ashes, Beane rebuilt the team around young cornerstones like first baseman Jason Giambi, shortstop Miguel Tejada and third baseman Eric Chavez, all on board by the time Hudson came in. The rotation was no great shakes, though, until the Big Three took over. From 2001-2004, A's starters ranked in the top two in ERA in the AL all four times, leading the league twice.
Hudson, Mulder and Zito all had 20-win seasons within their first three years. Their early accomplishments and knack for pushing each other earned them comparisons to the Atlanta Braves' trio of Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine and John Smoltz, now members of the Hall of Fame.
The Oakland Big Three was disbanded in December 2004, when Hudson and Mulder were traded away within two days of each other, in a typical Beane attempt at maximizing value from an asset that was getting too expensive. Zito hung around through until 2006, helping the A's reach the postseason that year before he moved across the bay to the Giants for a then-record seven-year, $126 million deal.
For reasons best understood by them, the A's had resisted calling up Zito, who tried to make the team out of spring training after sitting out the 2014 season, then accepted a minor-league assignment when he didn't earn a spot. Zito went 8-7 with a 3.46 ERA for Class AAA Nashville.
Beane pointed to poor timing – Zito was hurt when injuries created an opening on the major league staff – and issues of roster maneuvering as explanations for declining to summon Zito. Even after reversing course last weekend, the A's said they'd only use him out of the bullpen, and he made his first major league appearance in nearly two years Sunday, giving up two runs in one inning.
It may be that, as a GM who has championed the value of cold statistics over the nebulous concept of team chemistry, Beane did not want to show his soft side. Whatever the reason, manager Bob Melvin's announcement Tuesday that Zito would indeed get the start Saturday against the retiring Hudson was greeted with overwhelming approval in the Bay Area.
And lest anyone take the cynical viewpoint that this is merely a way for the A's to boost their typically low attendance – they rank 28th in the majors – bear in mind they always draw well when the Giants come into the Coliseum.
This decision appears to have been made strictly to please the fans, proving that even if there's no crying in baseball, the occasional fit of sentimentality is perfectly fine.