Card Corner: Rico Carty

In striking a pose for his final Topps card, Rico Carty looks a lot like the wise, old baseball veteran, ready to provide counsel to his younger teammates on the Blue Jays. That kind of image clashes with the reputation that Carty carried for much of his career, when he rarely backed away from controversy or confrontation, sometimes pitting himself against the most popular player on his team.

Rico Carty, 1980 (Icon/SMI)

Even from the start, Carty was hardly a conventional athlete. A talented boxer, Carty decided to pursue a professional career in baseball, playing as a catcher. As an amateur, he flaunted a system in which young Latino players were recklessly scouted and signed without regard to rules and regulations. Carty signed contracts with 12 different major league teams while he was an amateur. Organized Baseball threatened to discipline Carty, but chose not to impose any fines or suspensions on the highly touted youngster.

Ultimately, Carty’s contract with the Milwaukee Braves was the one that was allowed to stand. Almost immediately, Carty displayed the kind of minor league batting prowess that would earned him a quick promotion to Milwaukee, but the Braves also realized that he did not have the defensive skills to stay behind the plate. They moved him to the outfield, where he would hardly excel, but where he could do far less damage.

After a brief cup of coffee with the Braves in 1963, he received a fulltime playing role in 1964 and responded with a .330 batting average and a .554 slugging percentage. Carty played so well that he finished second to Dick Allen in the National League’s Rookie of the Year race.

In 1965, Carty hurt his back, forcing him to miss half of the season. The injury would prove to be a sign of things to come:
Illness and injury would frequently limit his at-bats and his playing time in left field.

After moving with the franchise to Atlanta in 1966, Carty continued to build his reputation as one of the National League’s most feared hitters, combining the ability to bat for average and power, while rarely striking out. In spite of a separated shoulder in 1967, Carty posted two respectable back-to-back seasons for the Braves, but a major setback laid waste to his 1968 season. Carty contracted tuberculosis, sapping him of much of his strength and rendering him unavailable for the entire season. He spent five months of that season in a sanitarium, attempting to recuperate from what some considered a career-threatening illness.

Undeterred, Carty bounced back forcefully in 1969. Though he played in only 104 games, he reached base 40 per cent of the time and slugged a cool .549. That kind of season provided the appetizer to 1970. Now fully recovered from his bout with tuberculosis, Carty reached the peak of his career when he led the league with a thunderous .366 batting average and a .456 on-base percentage. Carty made such an impression with his lusty hitting that fans voted him onto the National League All-Star team despite the fact that his name did not appear on the ballot.

Then, during the off-season, Carty’s career came to a crossroads. During a winter league game, he collided with fellow Dominican outfielder Matty Alou. The incident resulted in a crushed kneecap, which forced Carty to the sidelines for the entire 1971 season.

The repeated injuries to Carty represented only part of the problem. Carty’s personality sometime put him in conflict with teammates and managers. During his years with the Braves, he became involved in several ugly incidents. He tussled with 6-foot-6 right-hander Ron Reed. Off the field, he sustained injuries in a brawl with Atlanta police, who mistook him for another man; the altercation caused permanent damage in one eye. And in another celebrated incident, Carty fought with the Braves’ best player, Hall of Famer Hank Aaron.

Carty’s continuing problems with Aaron eventually influenced his trade to the Rangers after the 1972 season. Carty seemed like a perfect fit for the American League, which had just adopted the designated hitter rule. The new rule would keep Carty out of the outfield, where his lack of speed and throwing ability made him a liability. Serving as a DH also figured to limit his risk of injury. On paper, Carty and the Rangers seemed like a perfect match, but he soon sparred with manager Whitey Herzog, which resulted in a hasty midseason departure.

The Rangers sent him back to the National League, this time selling his contract to the Cubs. Carty proceeded to butt heads with another popular star player, Ron Santo, one of the Cubs’ senior veterans and most prominent clubhouse leaders. Within a few weeks, Carty was back to the American League with the Oakland A’s.

Upon his arrival in Oakland, Carty publicly criticized Santo, labeling him a selfish player. Carty bitterly predicted the Cubs would never win a division title or league pennant until they rid themselves of their longtime third baseman. Although Carty’s criticism likely had little to do with it, the Cubs traded Santo to the cross-town White Sox after the season.

After the season, the A’s released Carty, leaving him without a baseball card for 1974, and more importantly, without a job in the major leagues. Determined to make a comeback, Carty signed a contract with Cordoba of the Mexican League. He hit well enough to impress scouts for the Indians, who offered him a contract in August of 1974.

Signed at a bargain price, Carty would prove to be one of the Indians’ best acquisitions of the 1970s. He became the Indians’ primary DH, slugging over .500 in 1975 and posting on-base percentages in the .370 range in two consecutive seasons. He also cemented his reputation as the best two-strike hitter of his era, an opinion shared by a number of scouts, coaches and managers.

He employed a distinctive style at the plate. Unlike many hitters who step out of the batter’s box and tug at their uniforms between pitches, Carty stood firmly planted in the box throughout each at-bat. He remained motionless, all the while glaring at the opposing pitcher. Carty’s stance and stare only made him more intimidating to rival hurlers. He added to that level of intimidation by sometimes screaming at pitchers who insisted on throwing him breaking balls instead of challenging him with his preferred pitch, the fastball.

The Indians thought so much of Carty that after the Blue Jays selected him in the expansion draft, they worked to bring him back via a trade. One month after losing Carty to the Jays, the Indians reacquired him in a deal for young catcher Rick Cerone and veteran outfielder John Lowenstein.

Carty remained a productive hitter with the Indians through the 1977 season, but he repeatedly clashed with manager Frank Robinson. An old school skipper through and through, Robinson preferred his players to keep quiet and play through minor aches and pains. An injury-prone player like the outspoken Carty did not fit the Robinson mold. Some felt the Carty-Robinson relationship epitomized the hard feelings that sometimes bubbled between Latino and African-American players of the era, largely because of cultural and language differences.

By the winter of 1977, the Indians had parted ways with both Carty and Robinson. They fired Robby in midseason, and then traded the aging Carty that winter, sending him to the Blue Jays, this time without a return ticket. Though 38, Carty was hardly done. Splitting the season between Toronto and Oakland, Carty hit a career high 31 home runs, six more than his previous best.

Carty did not begin to show his age until the following season, when he returned to Toronto as a free agent. His batting average fell off to .256, his worst showing since 1973, and his home run total plummeted to 12. The Blue Jays gave Carty one more chance in the spring of 1980, but released him in March, bringing his major league days to an end. In spite of it all— tuberculosis, a crushed kneecap, and repeated clashes with teammates and managers—Carty had managed to last 15 seasons as a big league hitter.

Carty could make controversy with the best of them, but he was colorful. He proudly called himself the “Beeg Boy” in a heavy Spanish accent. Carty also had an interesting personal habit. According to Jim Bouton in his groundbreaking Ball Four, Carty had such little trust in either banks or the clubhouse valuables box that he stuffed his money into his game-worn uniform pants. “So that big lump you see in his back pocket during baseball games is his wallet,” wrote Bouton.

In many ways, Carty’s habits and histrionics overshadowed his intelligence. After his playing days, he became a political figure in his native Dominican Republic. In May of 1994, Carty was elected mayor of his hometown, San Pedro de Macoris, and was scheduled to be sworn into office in mid-August. Political machinations then wreaked havoc on Carty’s career. On Aug. 2, a controversial recount gave the mayoral job to Carty’s principal opponent.

Carty had promised to repair many of the city’s streets as mayor and step up efforts to fight pollution in San Pedro de Macoris. He also wanted to ask the United States for help in bringing equipment—specifically bats and baseballs—to the Dominican Republic. Although Carty’s political desires were grounded, he still managed to earn the honorary rank of general in the Dominican Army.

Given such a prestigious honor, maybe the image on the 1980 Topps card was an accurate one. Perhaps Rico Carty has been the wise, old leader all along.

Bruce Markusen has authored seven baseball books, including biographies of Roberto Clemente, Orlando Cepeda and Ted Williams, and A Baseball Dynasty: Charlie Finley’s Swingin’ A’s, which was awarded SABR's Seymour Medal.
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13 years ago

Great story on Rico Carty!

Your writing takes me back when I was a youngster in the early seventies.  I remember having a Rico Carty comic book detailing the dangers of smoking.  I had a momentary feeling like I’m sitting in my orange Kool Aid pup tent reading the comic book on a carefree sunny afternoon.

Thanks for another escape back to my childhood. Love your writing!


13 years ago

excellent read. I grew up in Milwaukee and although the Braves abandoned my city before I came of age as a baseball fan, I followed the Braves, even after the Brewers came to town. Aaron was my hero, but I also loved watching Carty, the Alou brothers, Cepada, etc.

Bruce Markusen
13 years ago

Thanks, Bob and jjelak.

A Rico Carty comic book? What I would do to get my hands on one of those. Some of the stuff made in the sixties and seventies is just priceless.

13 years ago


I believe thay may have been put out by the American Cancer Society.  I can’t remember if they were given out at school or if I got it somewhere else.  I think they also had one featuring Bobby Richardson.

Both are long lost but the memories remain.

13 years ago

Somehow I had missed Carty’s cameo with the Mustache Gang but since he was acquired so late he didn’t see postseason time in 1973.  I do remember him with the lousy late 70’s A’s hitting better than Dick Allen had the year before.

Marc Schneider
13 years ago

Rico Carty was one of the best pure hitters I ever saw.  He had tremendous power although his home run totals were not particularly high because he hit so many line drives.  But I remember seeing him on a Game of the Week in, I believe 1970, hitting a ball over the centerfield wall at old Forbes Field, which was 457 feet away.  The ball easily cleared the wall.  He was not much of an outfielder but, boy, could he hit.

Steve Treder
13 years ago

Absolutely LOVED watching Carty play.  One of the best things about him was that when he came to the plate, often he would take no practice swings at all.  Zero.  Just walk up there, get into the box and assume his stance.

Think of how strange that is.  EVERY batter takes a practice cut or two, even if it’s just a partial swing.  But sometimes Carty wouldn’t, and it was unnerving as heck.  It had to be weird for the pitcher.  Carty was an intimidating enough presence in the batter’s box already, and just having him walk up and stand there ready to hit had to add an extra goose bump for the pitcher.

13 years ago
slim jim
13 years ago

didn’t know he was such a goofball…fighting with everyone, maybe he should have stuck with boxing…

jimmy paz
13 years ago

Does anyone remember that great SPORT magazine story on Carty entitled, “Rico, Baby, We Love You!”?  The Beeg Boy was really something!

Joe Pilla
13 years ago

A few years after BALL FOUR, Pat Jordan in A FALSE SPRING, his fine memoir of his fleeting time as a Braves “pheenom” in the early 60’s, offered a vivid memory of Carty at breakfast at Milwaukee’s minor league camp in Waycross, Ga.:

“I remember watching one morning in fascination as Rico Carty, a massive black figure from a Communist mural of the thirties, heaped food on his tin tray, deposited it on a table and returned to the kitchen for three glasses of Kool-Aid. He lined up the three glasses in front of his tray—grape, lime, orange—and, satisfied, began to eat. He never drank from those glasses, but with each forkful of food, looked up and smiled at their beauty.”

This suggests a gnawing childhood poverty that would motivate a Dominican teen to sign with 12 clubs, and later lead a still insecure veteran major leaguer to keep all his cash in his uniform pocket.

Steve Treder
13 years ago


Great insight gleaned from a great book by a great writer.