The first time Frank Thomas heard himself referred to as the “Big Skirt” was on June 12, 1999, during a Cubs-Sox series at Wrigley Field.
A group of fans wore mocking T-shirts and chanted “Big Skirt” at him from the stands.
“The ‘Big Skirt’ thing is getting on my nerves,” Thomas said afterward. “It’s easy to get away with that from far away. They better not challenge me with that crap.”
Tribune columnist Bernie Lincicome then told Thomas that in Scotland, “Big Skirt” actually could be considered a compliment.
Thomas shrugged.
“I guess I’ll just continue to pound the ball,” he replied.
Thomas pounded the ball enough during his stellar career to become a first-ballot Hall of Famer, an honor he had dreamed of for decades.
But unlike Greg Maddux and Tom Glavine, the two pitchers who will be enshrined alongside him in July in Cooperstown, N.Y., Thomas endured some of the harshest criticism imaginable during his playing career, from fans, the media, his manager, his general manager and even a few teammates.
Perhaps that’s why the “Big Hurt” has been wearing an ear-to-ear smile since Wednesday’s announcement.
Vindication is sweet.
“Frank never was going to get the respect he wanted from Chicago, the respect he was always looking for,” former teammate Tony Phillips said. ” Getting elected to the Hall of Fame validates who he always was and who we always thought he was.
“Everyone in baseball knew how good he was. But he went through a lot of negative press in Chicago … when he was one of the best athletes, one of the best baseball players ever to play there. Kudos to the big dog.”
A glance at Thomas’ numbers is all anyone needs to understand why he was an easy choice for the Baseball Writers’ Association of America electorate. But Thomas also was mired in controversy often along the way, some of it deserved and some not.
When he was forced to go as a free agent after 2005, Thomas voiced his disappointment over having to leave the team he grew up with. Sox general manager GM Ken Williams responded: “He’s an idiot. He’s selfish. That’s why we don’t miss him. … We don’t miss his attitude. We don’t miss the whining. We don’t miss it. Good riddance. See you later.”
Their feud may be over, but the scars remain. Phillips said he couldn’t recall another Hall of Famer who was treated like Thomas was in the World Series year in ’05.
“How many people in Frank Thomas’ shoes leave a team on bad terms like that?” Phillips said. “Not in my era. I have never seen anyone of his stature get thrown out of town like that. I’ve seen guys like him leave town, but not get kicked out of town.
“That should never have happened, and he’s getting his due right now. He should be dropping his pants and mooning everybody … and loving it.”
Mike Cameron, another former Sox teammate, agreed, but said Thomas’ penchant for speaking his mind hurt him.
“Every once in a while people called him the ‘Big Skirt,’ saying he cried a lot, but he said what he felt,” Cameron said. “The one thing about it was the dude could flat-out rake with the best of them. The guy was unbelievable. When you’re doing the same things Ted Williams and Babe Ruth were doing, and nobody else was, what else do you need for validation? Some people just had a vendetta against him.”
Thomas was strong-headed and could be ornery, which is why he and former Sox hitting coach Walt Hriniak had such a bond. Hriniak was as crusty as a deep dish pizza and had no problem telling Thomas the truth.
“He trusted me.” Hriniak said. “I didn’t b.s. him. I told him what I thought, and I guess that was a positive thing. I could say something to Frank, and Frank would listen. With some guys, they say ‘Yeah,’ but they’re not listening.
“One of the things I challenged Frank with was that he had the ability to hit home runs and still hit for a high average. He had the approach. He used the whole field. I thought I saw a guy who would be able to do it all, and I was right. He did it all. A lot of guys are just happy hitting 40 home runs and hitting .260.”
Of course, Thomas had an ego and could be his own worst enemy at times. There was a famous moment from spring training in 2000 when he showed up with a doctor’s note to get out of an exercise called the shuttle run, leading to a shouting match with manager Jerry Manuel.
The following spring, Thomas stayed away from camp a few days in protest of his contract, complaining: “You see the pay scale is getting out of whack. You can’t have an (Alex Rodriguez) making $25 million and we’re at $7, $8, $9 million. It’s a business. It’s just like Hollywood. You can’t have the top actor making $25 million and the rest (of the stars) making $10 million.”
When Manuel benched Thomas in 2002, the sulking slugger blew off stretching exercises and batting practice, incurring the wrath of a young Paul Konerko.
Asked if he would let Thomas know his feelings, Konerko replied: “Yeah, when he’s around. He knows we’re behind him. But it’s tough if he secludes himself from the team. He’s not out for stretching. He’s not in the clubhouse when we’re in here. That’s not really a knock against him. … You can’t say anything to someone if he’s not around.”
Perhaps Thomas’ worst moment was in 2001 when teammate David Wells ripped him on his WMVP-AM 1000 radio show, suggesting he was faking an injury.
“If you don’t have the guts to be out there, you know what, you don’t need to be here,” Wells said. “You need to be somewhere else and learn how to play the game with guts and glory. Frank has put his foot in his mouth a lot of times and he doesn’t know what he’s saying. … Playing hurt will get you a lot more respect from your fellow players.”
Not only did Thomas turn out to have a torn triceps, but his father had passed away the day Wells was lambasting him publicly.
Cameron said Thomas was a great teammate and a good role model for him and young black players. He came up with the Sox when Thomas was already an established star, but he said Thomas took him under his wing.
“Being from Georgia, like Frank, it was almost like a big brother-little brother thing for me,” Cameron said. “He was serious about his numbers, he was serious about what he did with the bat, but he also taught me the ropes and I’ll always be grateful. I had the honor to play with six or seven African-American players on one Sox team, and it was a blessing for me because that just doesn’t happen anymore.
“I’m glad he was able to rekindle some things that kind of went sour at the end (of his stay in Chicago). When I left Chicago, those same values Frank and the others guys taught me I took with me wherever I went.”
Thomas had his blemishes, but he’s only human.
And if he wants to moon his critics during his Hall of Fame speech in Cooperstown, could anyone really blame him?
Twitter @PWSullivan
