George Scott was different. Most ballplayers in the late sixties and early seventies looked like they were carved from the same piece of wood—lean, clean-shaven, and focused on "the fundamentals." Then you had Scott. He was a mountain of a man who wore a necklace made of "low-protein" (that’s what he called teeth from the animals he’d supposedly hunted or encountered) and played first base with the grace of a ballet dancer. If you grew up watching the Red Sox or the Brewers back then, you knew that when George Scott stepped to the plate, something loud was about to happen.
He didn't just hit home runs. He hit "taters."
That’s a term we use all the time now in modern baseball jargon, but it started with him. He’d watch a ball disappear over the Green Monster and tell anyone within earshot that he’d just mashed a tater. Honestly, it fits. There was something earthy and raw about his game, yet he was statistically one of the most refined defensive players to ever pick up a glove. People remember the power, but they forget that for a decade, George Scott was essentially a vacuum at first base.
The Impossible Defense of a Heavyweight
When people look at George Scott, especially during his second stint with the Boston Red Sox or his peak years in Milwaukee, they see a big guy. He was listed at 210 pounds, but let's be real—he played much heavier than that at times. You wouldn’t expect a guy that size to lead the league in double plays started or to dive into the dirt for a screaming line drive.
But he did. Every single game.
Scott won eight Gold Glove awards. Think about that for a second. That’s more than Keith Hernandez had at the same point in his career development. He had this weird, almost supernatural ability to read the ball off the bat. It wasn't just range; it was a total lack of fear. He played "The Boomer’s" style, which meant playing close to the bag and dared hitters to pull the ball past him. Most of the time, they couldn't.
His glove was a graveyard for base hits.
He played during an era where the American League was transitioning. You had the dominance of the Orioles' pitching and the rise of the "Big Bad Bruins" energy in Boston. Scott fit the city’s vibe perfectly. He was tough. He was loud. He was unapologetically himself. He didn't care if people poked fun at his weight or his eccentric jewelry. He just went out and caught everything thrown his way.
🔗 Read more: Inter Miami vs Toronto: What Really Happened in Their Recent Clashes
Why the 1975 Season Was Pure Magic
If you want to understand the peak of George Scott, you have to look at 1975. By this point, he was with the Milwaukee Brewers, having been traded from Boston in a deal that many Sox fans still hate talking about. The 1975 season was the year the "Boomer" truly exploded.
He led the American League in home runs (36) and RBIs (109).
He wasn't just a slugger, though. He was the heart of that Brewers lineup. It’s kinda funny looking back at the stats because the Brewers weren't even a great team that year, yet Scott was a force of nature. He finished eighth in MVP voting, which feels low given he led the league in two legs of the Triple Crown. But that was the era. Writers often ignored guys on sub-.500 teams.
He had this massive, looping swing. When he connected, the sound was different. It wasn't a "ping" or a sharp "crack." It was a thud. A heavy, violent collision. He treated the baseball like it had personally insulted him.
- 1966: Hits 27 home runs as a rookie.
- 1972: Grabs another Gold Glove and hits .266 with 20 bombs after the trade to Milwaukee.
- 1975: Leads the AL in HRs and RBIs.
- 1977: Returns to Boston to hit 33 home runs in a legendary lineup.
He was a nomad who left a trail of broken scoreboards everywhere he went.
The Red Sox Regret and the Return Home
The trade that sent Scott to Milwaukee in 1971 is one of those "what if" moments in Boston sports history. The Sox got Tommy Harper, who was a fine player, but they lost their defensive anchor and a massive power source. It took them years to realize they’d made a mistake.
When they finally traded to get him back in 1977, the city went wild.
💡 You might also like: Matthew Berry Positional Rankings: Why They Still Run the Fantasy Industry
Boston in the late 70s was a pressure cooker. You had Yaz, Fisk, Rice, and Fred Lynn. Adding Scott back into that mix was like pouring gasoline on a bonfire. That 1977 team hit 213 home runs. That's a staggering number for that era. Scott contributed 33 of those. They were the most feared lineup in baseball, even if they couldn't quite get past the Yankees when it mattered most.
But Scott was older then. The knees were starting to creak. The "low-protein" necklace was still there, but the agility that defined his early career was fading. Still, he provided a veteran presence that gave those young guys like Jim Rice the room to breathe. He took the heat. He dealt with the media. He was the Boomer.
Beyond the Box Score: The Personality
Baseball today feels a bit... sanitized? Everyone has a personal brand and a media coach. George Scott didn't have a brand; he had a personality. He called his glove "Black Beauty." He spoke about himself in the third person sometimes, but not in an arrogant way—more like he was describing a legendary character he also happened to be watching.
He’d talk to the runners at first base. He’d distract them with stories or jokes, then suddenly snap a throw from the catcher to pick them off. He was a psychological warrior.
The necklace is the thing everyone asks about. It was made of beads and what looked like animal teeth. Scott claimed they were "low-protein" teeth—teeth from animals that didn't eat meat. It was his own little bit of mythology. In an era where players were expected to be stoic, Scott was a carnival. He brought a sense of joy and weirdness to the clubhouse that is desperately missed in the modern game.
What Most People Get Wrong About Scott
The biggest misconception is that he was just a "all or nothing" hitter. People see the high strikeout totals and the big frame and assume he was a liability if he wasn't hitting homers.
That couldn't be further from the truth.
📖 Related: What Time Did the Cubs Game End Today? The Truth About the Off-Season
Scott was an elite athlete. You don't win eight Gold Gloves at first base by being a stationary object. He had incredibly soft hands. His footwork around the bag was textbook. If you watch old film of him, pay attention to how he stretches for throws. He could pick balls out of the dirt better than almost anyone in the history of the American League.
Also, he was a better contact hitter than he gets credit for. In 1967, during the Red Sox "Impossible Dream" season, he hit .285. He wasn't just swinging for the fences every time; he knew how to move runners. He understood the game on a deep, fundamental level that often got overshadowed by his "Boomer" persona.
The End of the Road and the Legacy
By 1979, the wheels were coming off. He spent some time with the Royals and then finished up back with the Yankees, which felt a bit weird for a guy who was so synonymous with Boston and Milwaukee. He played 14 seasons in total. He finished with 271 home runs and over 1,000 RBIs.
Those are borderline Hall of Fame numbers if you add in the defensive hardware.
He didn't make it into Cooperstown, but he’s in the Red Sox Hall of Fame and the Brewers Wall of Honor. To the fans who saw him, that matters more. He wasn't a player defined by WAR or OPS+ (though his stats hold up well in those metrics too). He was a player defined by moments. The sight of him rounding the bases after a "tater," the dirt on his uniform from a diving stop, and the grin he wore while jawing with a base runner.
George Scott passed away in 2013 in his hometown of Greenville, Mississippi. He remained a legend in the South, often helping with youth baseball and keeping the stories alive. He was a bridge between the old school, gritty baseball of the 50s and the high-powered, televised era of the 80s.
Real Insights for Baseball Historians and Collectors
If you're looking into George Scott today, whether you're a card collector or a student of the game, there are a few things to keep in mind:
- Check the 1966 Topps Rookie Card: This is his most iconic piece of memorabilia. It captures him right at the start of the "Boomer" era and remains a staple for any serious Red Sox collector.
- Study the Gold Glove Stats: Don't just look at his home runs. Look at his total chances and putouts. He led the league in multiple defensive categories for years, which is rare for a primary power hitter.
- The "Tater" Origin: Whenever you hear a commentator use that word, remember it started in a locker room in Boston or Milwaukee with a man wearing a tooth necklace.
- Watch the 1975 Highlight Reels: If you can find archival footage of the Brewers from '75, do it. It’s the best evidence of a player carrying an entire offense on his back.
George Scott proved that you could be big, you could be loud, and you could still be the most technical player on the diamond. He broke the mold of what a first baseman was supposed to look like. He made the game fun. He made it loud. And he sure as hell mashed some taters.
Next Steps for Fans and Researchers:
- Visit the Fenway Park Archives: If you're ever in Boston, the team has incredible documentation of Scott’s 1967 and 1977 seasons.
- Analyze the 1971 Trade: Dive into the newspapers from late 1971 to see the sheer shock of the Boston media when Scott was shipped to Milwaukee; it’s a masterclass in how sportswriting has changed.
- Compare Defensive Metrics: Use modern sites like Baseball-Reference to compare Scott's Total Zone Rating against other Gold Glove winners of his era to see how his defensive value holds up against contemporary stars.