The many roles and faces of Bruce Chen

In one way, it would be more appropriate if Bruce Chen were boring. There’s an argument to be made that Chen, who recently announced his retirement, is the most average pitcher of all time, with an 82-81 career record and a 4.62 ERA. If Bruce Chen did not exist, we would have to invent him, as the old saying goes. It’s almost a shame that a pitcher like Chen, this embodiment of average, is filled with good humor and personality.

In another, more important way, that’s perfect. Chen had so many different job descriptions and responsibilities, and he represented so many things to various teams, that he was one of the more interesting pitchers of his time in theory, despite being completely uninteresting in practice. Witness the long career and many faces of Bruce Chen.

Ah, we forget about this part. Before the 1999 season, Chen was a 21-year-old kid with polish and sheen, coming up for a Braves organization that was made for left-handers with polish and sheen. Chen was 21, and he was the No. 4 prospect in baseball, according to Baseball America. The Braves traded Denny Neagle, in part, to make room for him.

There was no way this couldn’t work, this combination of finesse and pitchability, all overseen by Leo Mazzone, noted wizard. Here’s a sentence about Chen from Baseball America’s 1999 Prospect Handbook:

Some scouts have compared Chen’s repertoire and his approach to pitching to that of Greg Maddux.

Well, no pressure there. How about the 1999 STATS Minor League Notebook?

He has the complete package: 90-MPH fastball, curve, slider, changeup, command, control, intelligence, and good mechanics.

Extend him, Braves. Before it’s too late. This guy has everything. This guy is perfect. This guy ...

Is just a guy. The precarious balance of that 90-mph fastball tipped in the wrong direction, and Chen could never stop allowing dingers. He became the average pitcher we recognize today, alternating the bad with the good, the good with the bad. He was not the next Greg Maddux. He was the next Mike Maddux, which is actually a compliment when you consider just how many young pitchers are sucked into the garbage disposal of baseball.

Here was a guy with a low ceiling and a low floor. You wouldn’t bother with him if your team had five better pitchers, but, well, no team ever has five better pitchers. Almost no team. The 1998 Braves did, which made the contrast that much more glaring, but teams could usually do worse than Bruce Chen. He was just a guy, but sometimes you need just a guy.

UNLESS HE SUDDENLY BECOMES AWESOME. Then it’s alllll gravy. Chen did this for the 2005 Orioles, when all the Orioles wanted was a guy. Here’s what his transaction log reads:

• May 1, 2004: Sent to the Baltimore Orioles by the Toronto Blue Jays as part of a conditional deal.

What were the conditions? “Cold wash only. Don’t feed him after midnight. No backsies.” He was just a guy, but then he pitched 197 quality innings. Sorry about that all-caps awesome up there. The requirement for all-caps changed at some point in Chen’s career, and suddenly when he was an above-average pitcher, it was news. It was fun. It was all gravy, this low-cost, low-risk, high-reward thrift store find. Chen was a crafty lefty, what he always probably was supposed to be, and he was excelling at it. He was going to do this for years and years.

Unless he became a little worse than average.

Well, fine, he can hang around a bit, doing odd jobs. He was probably going to be incompetent, and there was a chance he could burn the place down, but he wasn’t going to steal anything from the register. He wasn’t going to kick your dog or let the air out of your tires. Hey, when you’re in a pinch, that sort of guy can help.

This is where he becomes well-traveled. A list of teams that I have absolutely no memory of employing Bruce Chen: Reds, Rangers, Mets, Astros, Red Sox. He was paid hourly, most likely, the only pitcher on the team who had to punch in. He becomes a full-time reliever, which would seem to be a role that suits him well, except he flops. He flops and flops and falls further and further down the career spiral. Until ...

Chen holds the record for most home runs given up in fewer than 100 innings. In 2006, the season after the surprisingly effective season described above, Chen was one of the worst pitchers baseball had ever seen. His ERA was 6.93, but he was probably a little unlucky, because, hey, his FIP was 6.48.

In 2006, Chen was a maestro of dingers, the wrong man in the wrong park at the wrong time. He allowed one to lead off a game; he allowed a walk-off. He allowed three in one game ... on three separate occasions. He allowed one to Mark Teixeira, and then he allowed three more to him. This is what you find at the bottom of the mountain when the crafty lefty reaches the tipping point, falls over, and rolls all the way down. Pitchers who fall that far, don’t usually get back up.

This was the end of Chen. The Chend of an era. Chend of the road, really.

The Royals picked him up because they still hoped he was a temp. They were historically filled with pitchers who would steal the dog, kick the register, and then burn the place down. They weren’t asking for a lot. Eventually, he paid that faith back and became ...

As in, the Royals weren’t expecting him to stay very long. But it was a remarkably pleasant experience. He did the dishes. He came home and vacuumed. It was only supposed to be a temporary solution for them, but Chen did so much more than everyone expected. He was the bridge between those Royals and these Royals, a guy who could absorb innings without putting too much burden on the young staff, without burning up the bullpen.

He had a couple of gravy years, mixed in with some temp, and he found some stability somehow. After hopping around the majors and undergoing Tommy John surgery in 2008, Chen opened the next six spring trainings with the same team, doubling his previous record. He became something of a ... well, not a fan-favorite, necessarily, but someone who earned more respect from the hometown crowd than he was used to. He was the sort of guy that George Brett would get kicked in the nuts for laughs.

Creepy, a little-too-into-it laughs. And the whole time Chen is changing roles and switching identities, he’s a likable goofball. He was perhaps the most average pitcher in baseball history, yet he had the personality and background (as a Panamanian of Chinese descent) to stand out. Everyone remembers Chen, even if he somehow didn’t play for your team. He was always there.

I like baseball because of Chris Sale and his delivery of collapsing girders. I like the snap on Clayton Kershaw’s curve, and the raw power of Aroldis Chapman’s fastball. I also like it because Bruce Chen can exist and stick around for 17 years, with all of the ups and downs that baseball offers. He never appeared in a postseason game, and I can’t tell if that’s unfair or sort of the point. But there will be pitchers who do what he does, perhaps for not as long, and you’ll completely forget about them in 10 years.

For some reason, though, I’m hoping that Chen is more than that, a pitcher who serves as sort of a baseline for interesting and competent. The next prospect who gets described as a Bruce Chen-type doesn’t have to take offense. That sort of thing can turn into a long, memorable, and somehow not boring career, even if it looks completely boring on the surface.