[The Iguana]

I'd call Kile at least "above average."

No one would call him A Hall of Famer. But he was a solid #2 prototype pitcher - not necessarily an ace, but a dependable guy with some very good stuff and win you some games. You don't win 20 games without some good stuff. Take away his Denver starts and he's got some impressive numbers.

His impact, however, transcends his very good if not spectacular stuff. It's obvious that he was tremendously well liked and respected around the league and there are not many guys like that. I would wager, for example, that DK's passing will be felt much more deeply more more widely than, say, Barry Bonds - a sure-fire Hall of Famer - might.

[BluesDuke]

I'd call Kile at least "above average."

No one would call him A Hall of Famer. But he was a solid #2 prototype pitcher - not necessarily an ace, but a dependable guy with some very good stuff and win you some games. You don't win 20 games without some good stuff. Take away his Denver starts and he's got some impressive numbers.

Doing precisely that - taking away his Colorado seasons - I come up with these for him:

ERA: 3.83
League ERA: 3.93
Kile's difference: -.10

A -.10 difference between your ERA and your league's ERA is not a difference that will classify you as beyond an average pitcher. Not even with a) a 20-win season, and b) Kile's 1997 season, which was actually far better than his 20-win season thanks to 1) his 2.57 ERA (the single best of his career) and 2) a strikeouts-to-walks performance that was way over his head (205 strikeouts to 95 walks), even allowing that walk totals less than ten below 100 are not good walk totals. Minus Kile's two Colorado seasons, his ERA is only -.10 below his league's ERA; with his two Colorado seasons, Kile's ERA through the end of 2001 was -.13 below league. Over his eleven seasons prior to 2002, Kile's ERA was below his league's average in only four of them; in only two of those was the difference -1.00 or better. I really can't see where the evidence says he can be classified above average to any extent.

His impact, however, transcends his very good if not spectacular stuff. It's obvious that he was tremendously well liked and respected around the league and there are not many guys like that. I would wager, for example, that DK's passing will be felt much more deeply more more widely than, say, Barry Bonds - a sure-fire Hall of Famer - might.

Of course it will be. It is already. There's no crime in a man being a better human being - on the field and off (I've spoken of his apparently league-wide reputation for being willing to help any and everyone joining his teams, from the freshest rookie to the lowest-totemed veteran to the highest-touted star or star-in-waiting) - than he was a pitcher.

Unfortunately, an awful lot of wonderful human beings have played baseball without being great baseball players, and it's no crime against their persons or their memories to say so. (For that matter, an awful lot of wonderful human beings have also managed to be great baseball players, and it's a crime that the jackass class among the superstars tarnishes them, too.) That Darryl Kile was an exemplary man by most definitions is pretty self-evident; that he was significantly more than an average pitcher (who had his moments here and there) when all was said and done is, by the available evidence, not.