Simba Enters The Hall

Nearly 33 years after his final game, Ted Simmons joins baseball's most elite community

Welcome to Warning Track Power, a weekly newsletter of baseball stories and analysis grounded in front office and scouting experiences and the personalities encountered along the way.

After quietly observing the former switch-hitting catcher for a few days during the 2005 Winter Meetings, I turned to a colleague of mine and said, “In the movie about Ted Simmons’ life, the lead role should be played by Christopher Walken.”

There is a deliberate pacing to Ted’s speech and a hypnotic rhythm, one that demands your attention while also leaving you unsure of what might come next.

When I proposed my casting idea to Ted later that night, he agreed that Walken would be a fine choice but that — if we would allow him to entertain certain delusions — he preferred that Robert De Niro play the part.

Now that Ted Simmons is finally being enshrined in the Hall of Fame — where he has belonged since his name first appeared on the ballot in 1994 — he should be able to select whomever he wants to portray him on the big screen.

The arc of De Niro’s roles — from Taxi Driver and The Deer Hunter to Analyze This and Meet the Parents — matches nicely with Ted’s career.

He was a hard-nosed catcher who broke into the big leagues in 1968 at the age of 19, joining a Cardinals roster that included future Hall of Famers Bob Gibson, Steve Carlton, Orlando Cepeda and Lou Brock. Those Red Birds were managed by future Hall of Famer and Cardinals legend Red Schoendienst.

SImmons slides safely into third base. St. Louis Cardinals

Many kids were preparing for college at that point — or waiting to learn if they were headed to Vietnam. Teddy Simmons was preparing to catch two of the greatest pitchers of the 20th century.

Outspoken in his disapproval of the Vietnam War, Ted was no pacifist on the field. In 1974, Simba found himself in the middle of a bizarre brawl. Raging Bull was still six years away, but Ted was ready for the part. Amidst the building chaos at home plate, you can imagine Ted saying to Cubs batter Bill Madlock, “You talkin’ to me?” (Yes, I know that’s from Taxi Driver.)

Then the fun begins, with Cubs manager Jim Marshall — whom we will cover here at a later date — as a principal instigator. Click here to watch the melee if you haven’t yet seen it.

After stints with the Brewers and the Braves, Ted’s playing career ended following the 1988 season, and in 1992 he was named General Manager of the Pirates. His path was altered by a heart attack in June 1993, but after stepping away from his job with the Pirates, he remained in baseball.

In September 1999, he was named the VP of scouting and player development of the Padres. He remained with San Diego through the 2010 season. That’s where our paths crossed.

During those years, it would have been easy to see him around the dinner table with the Fockers.

Nick Hundley, who caught more games than any other Padres player during Ted’s brief tenure as bench coach, was a beneficiary of the eight-time All-Star’s wisdom.

“The way that he communicated with me,” Hundley says, “I knew that he wanted me to be successful… for the team to be successful but also for me to have a career and make a profession out of it.

“When you have a leader that you feel cares more about you and your own career than their career, it’s really easy to play for someone like that, and really easy to lay it on the line for them.”

Hundley also speaks highly of Ted’s in-game demeanor and philosophies. “If we were down in the ninth, all he would say is, ‘Get the tying run up. We’ve just got to get the tying run up to the plate.’ And then if the tying run got up to the plate, he would go nuts.”

The Padres second-rounder from the 2005 Draft explains that from that point on, the outcome didn’t matter to Ted. The team had given itself a chance.

Simmons introduced a new level of accountability to Hundley during their two years together.

Ted played in almost 2,500 Major League games and he coached or scouted hundreds more. He knew that if a team gave itself enough chances, the wins would follow.

Very simply, he believes in what he’s doing and what he sees. He walks with a humble conviction everywhere he goes, like that of a man with all of the answers yet a desire to continue learning.

In 2010, after a game against the Diamondbacks in Arizona, the Padres’ team buses pulled into the hotel. I watched as players, coaches, trainers, and other support staff walked almost compulsorily through the lobby and towards the elevators. Ted, on the other hand, peeled off and began using one of the computers in the lobby. I remember being curious as to what might have drawn him straight to the internet at that hour — it’s admittedly a strange memory to hold onto more than a decade later.

That’s Teddy, though — incredibly comfortable in his own skin and able to leave the game at the ballpark. Many baseball lifers don’t know what to do when the game ends. For Ted, there’s art, there’s film, and there are other interests that he’d never offer up if you didn’t ask; he’s drawn to places that challenge his way of thinking.

It’s partially why Kevin Towers valued him as a scout and special assistant — Ted would deliver the message KT needed to hear even when it wasn’t the news he wanted to hear. He saw it as his duty and privilege to challenge when appropriate.

Hundley still appreciates the lessons in accountability that Ted instilled, both in respecting the game and attention to game-calling.

“He’s big on having a reason why you called each pitch,” Hundley says, bringing up common themes from my conversations with Ted over the years. Instead of simply allowing the result of the pitch to determine its success, Hundley was forced to consider whether the pitch he called was executed properly, where it was located, and how it came into the zone.

“He was really thoughtful in that way.”

During the 2013 season, I knew that Ted would be scouting at Chase Field. I asked him if there was one game during which I could sit with him. I don’t remember any details from that game, but I remember many from my nine-inning conversation with him.

He emphasized bullpen management, the platoon advantage — no surprise coming from a prolific switch-hitter, and, most importantly, the manager’s responsibility in knowing when to remove the pitcher.

After the game, Ted and I parted ways. He returned to his hotel, leaving the pitch counts and pinch hitters at the ballpark, likely spending time pursuing other interests, and perhaps checking in with his wife, Maryanne, or either of his two sons.

I walked away with memories I cherish several years later. I’m happy that today his gifts, quirks, and legacy will be recognized, immortalized and shared with all fans of the game.

Thank you for reading this special Hall of Fame edition of Warning Track Power. For a brief clip of Nick Hundley sharing his thoughts on catching two Hall of Famers in the same game, click here.

Subscribe now to have WTP delivered to your inbox every Thursday.