Li'l Professor

That's what they called him. He was an odd sight in his time. NOBODY wore glasses and lived to tell about it in MLB, back in the day. Well, almost nobody. There was Dominic DiMaggio, Specs Toporcer, Walt Masterson and Clint (Scrap Iron) Courtney, but not many others.

Dominic DiMaggio. I wish I had seen him play. The same goes for brother Joe. People talked about the way each glided around in center, and there was honest debate about who had the better glove.

The old timers all say he belongs in the Hall. The big numbers aren't there, with WWII being the primary reason. Like so many others, he lost all of '43, '44, and '45, when he was absolutely in his prime. Give him three average Dominic years and he'd have the 2,000 hits, at least.

What strikes me when I look at his record is his amazing consistency. He came in good and went out good, with no embarrassing end-of-career dropoff. His batting average range was .283 in his rookie year of 1940 to a high of .328, winding up with a career batting average of .298. His on-base range was similarly impressive, with a low of .367 and a high of .414. Career: 383. Wish Jacoby Ellsbury could do that.

Dominic was a table setter, scoring more than 100 runs six times in 10 full seasons, while leading the AL in runs in both 1950 and 1951. The walk-strikeout totals were typical of the times (750 of the former and 571 of the latter).

For the old-timers, he passed the smell test. He was a player who commanded respect.

But his greatest legacy was the way he led his life after baseball. He was smart and he was a good businessman with ethics off the chart. The word most associated with Dominic DiMaggio was "dignified," although "charitable" might have been a close second.

It was a good life, and he was a truly great man. The world is a lesser place today.