It would be a bit much to call Garret Anderson the last of his kind. That would draw too much attention to a guy who ducked the spotlight at every turn.
Anderson’s 17-year career is an almost perfect statement of both his greatness and his ability to deflect any attention toward his simple and highly trained focuses: His family, his commitment to play every single day, his ability to rake better than almost any other player in one of the game’s most potent offensive eras.
Looking for a guy who broke open Game 7 of the World Series with a bases-clearing double? That would be Anderson, whose rope into the right field corner off Livan Hernández launched the Anaheim Angels to their only World Series title in 2002, over Barry Bonds’ San Francisco Giants.
How about a player whose metronomic production churned out 1,146 hits between 1998 and 2003, trailing only Hall of Famers Derek Jeter and Todd Helton?
A Home Run Derby champion? An All-Star MVP? That was Anderson in 2003, where he outdueled Albert Pujols in the Derby finals.
Anderson, who died stunningly at 53, was a doubles hitter in an era defined by the long ball. He hit 261 of them in that glorious peak from 1998 to ’03, second in that span and again sandwiched by Hall of Famers in Helton and Jeff Kent.
Of course, all the while Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa and eventually Bonds were re-defining the home run record books, shrinking ballparks and commanding attention in a manner that didn’t seem real. (It mostly was not).
Garret Anderson stats only tell part of the story
Which made it all the easier for Anderson to avoid the radar like he avoided the injured list for so long. He ranks 50th all-time in two-baggers, accounting for 522 of his 2,529 hits – a highly impressive hit total yet also just shy of serious Hall of Fame consideration.
Kids, you want a modern comp? GA had some Freddie Freeman in him, albeit with a bit less power.
Yet getting past Anderson’s defenses was a challenge for news media. And if today's era is defined by drip checks and social media activations, Anderson might have been the king of anti-engagement back in the day.
Anderson was the son of a single mother who grew up in Los Angeles’ San Fernando Valley, moving frequently yet excelling athletically all the while. Anderson might have loved hoops even more than baseball, yet it was clear once the Angels drafted him in the fourth round in 1990 which route he would go.
He got his feet on the big league ground in 1995, part of a machinelike Angels offense that blew a 13-game lead to Ken Griffey Jr.’s Seattle Mariners. Not until their World Series year would the Angels get that close again, and more dynamic figures emerged around him.
Jim Edmonds was the slugging center fielder with a penchant for highlight-reel catches. Darin Erstad was the gritty hit machine, Mo Vaughn the huge free agent get and eventual disappointment.
Anderson was very quickly the old reliable, playing in 150 to 161 games from 1996 to 2003. As his track record solidified, there became a certain duality to GA: Avoiding the spotlight yet also fiercely proud of his accomplishments.
He took some heat for his self-preservation in the outfield, rarely leaving his feet and creating the impression he simply had a slower motor than the hyper-aggressive Erstad and, before him, Edmonds.
Then came Game 3 of the 2002 ALCS, when Anderson ended a 2-1 victory with a sliding catch in left field. Observers were stunned. Anderson was reticent, noting that yeah, that one mattered a bit more, even as his body language consistently belied his effort.
“If he was on a basketball court,” teammate Tim Salmon once said, “he’d be called smooth.”
Nope, the pride was always there. Anderson was never adversarial with the media but got cross with a reporter when a play he failed to make inspired the thought that Anderson was “disinterested.”
It wasn’t exactly a multi-day ripple, but GA was not pleased. And then, several weeks, maybe months later, baseball highlights were on in the clubhouse and an outfielder failed to make a play.
Anderson did not miss a beat from his corner of the room.
“Disinterested!” he said, displaying the memory of an elephant and the stubbornness required to survive in the big leagues.
So consistent was he that a slow start one year earned him the “What’s wrong with GA?” treatment from curious reporters. Anderson needed just five words to lay out the next several months.
“Talk to me in September,” he said.
Sure enough, the numbers were always there, and Anderson’s name always in the lineup, at least until April 2004. Shortly after signing a $48 million contract extension (Anderson seemed to take as much glee in keeping that under the radar as he did his lifetime security), he went on the injured list, a lack of strength befalling him.
He was eventually diagnosed with undifferentiated inflammatory arthritis. Of course, he still batted .301 but over just 112 games. He’d muster his third and final All-Star nod in 2005 and participated in four more playoff runs.
He’d play until he was 38, finishing with stints with Atlanta and the Dodgers. His greater lasting legacy might be his children, daughters Brianne and Bailey and son Trey.
His work on the field needs no apologies, not for a World Series champion, an elite professional hitter, a guy whose durability and production never gleaned headlines nor broke records, yet provided the foundation for a championship.
So take a moment to remember GA. Even if he might feel a little sheepish about it.
This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Garret Anderson stats: Angels star's greatness remembered after death
COVERS INTEL: Vladimir Guerrero Jr. has a 1.110 OPS against the entire Diamondbacks pitching staff.
