The great irony was that given Posey's devotion to time with his family and his personality, he probably is the ballplayer least likely to host a podcast, ever. It was an exhausting 15 minutes, but the great payoff was telling Posey that story the next time I saw him. So I very carefully structured my questions in such a way to lead him away from referring to Buster Posey. The really, really famous star had gotten up very early to talk to Buster, and I did not want to embarrass him as he told his stories. And about one or two questions into our conversation, I realized that this really, really famous star thought he was speaking to podcast host Buster Posey, championship catcher, not Buster Olney, schlubby sportswriter. A really, really famous star - unnamed here, to protect the innocent - enthusiastically (and surprisingly) agreed to join the show. Posey is one of the best athletes of his sport, a former college shortstop converted to catcher whose Cooperstown candidacy may lead to a broader reassessment of Hall of Fame credentials for the position, and I am - well - me.Īt least until five or six years ago, when the most difficult podcast interview I've ever had happened. Sure, there have been many times that I've been introduced on television or radio as Buster Posey - including by Scott Van Pelt on SportsCenter - but it's never gone farther than a clear misidentification. Luckily, even though we're both Busters in baseball, the facts of our jobs and lives have been different enough that we're not often confused. (Even though this first name has been handed down in his family, I'd venture a guess that he, like I, has probably greeted more pets named Buster than people.) He doesn't show it often, but Posey has a very dry sense of humor, and so we have continued to awkwardly greet each other in that manner ever since. "Buster, how are you doing?" I responded. But the only adult human I've met with the same name as my own is Buster Posey, who called me in 2010, at the request of his agent, for a story I was working on. When you're named Buster, you meet dozens and dozens of dogs and cats that share your name. San Francisco Giants star Buster Posey could rewrite the Hall of Fame expectations for a catcher
#BUSTER POSEY NUMBER UPGRADE#
He will be impossible to replace, both for his on-the-field impact and his spiritual importance to the Giants franchise.You have reached a degraded version of because you're using an unsupported version of Internet Explorer.įor a complete experience, please upgrade or use a supported browser 304 and was one of the staples of a 107-win team. This isn't the sort of swan song retirement where a rapidly diminishing star gets a courtesy goodbye and standing ovation from fans remembering his better days. Pertinently, Posey was really really good in 2021. He's a shoo-in for the Giants' Wall of Fame, and has a strong case for the actual Hall of Fame too, which is San Francisco's typical prerequisite for retired uniform number status. 300 for his career, was elite defensively, and caught some of the biggest games in franchise history.
#BUSTER POSEY NUMBER SERIES#
Posey - as others have noted and will continue noting, because it's worth repeating - will go down in Giants history as a three-time World Series champion, a seven-time All-Star and the 2012 NL MVP. In the interim, Giants fans are left to process the news that the team's steadiest player for more than a decade is calling it quits. But it doesn't make Wednesday afternoon's report by The Athletic's Andrew Baggarly any less surprising: Buster Posey, 34 years old and a certified San Francisco Giants legend, is retiring from baseball.Īn official announcement, Baggarly says, is expected on Thursday.
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