July 17, 1979. Seattle. The Kingdome was basically a concrete cave with a roof that loved to swallow baseballs. It was the Midsummer Classic, a night meant for moonshot home runs and flashy pitching. Instead, it became the night "The Cobra" turned his right arm into a ballistic missile launcher.
If you ask any baseball fan over fifty about the Dave Parker All Star throw, they won’t talk about his batting average or his 1978 MVP trophy. They’ll talk about a frozen rope. They’ll talk about a ball that defied physics. Honestly, it’s arguably the most famous defensive sequence in the history of the All-Star Game.
Dave Parker was already a terrifying human being on the field. He stood 6'5", weighed a lean 230 pounds, and wore a star-shaped earring that basically said, "I'm better than you." He played with a level of swagger that most modern players still haven't caught up to. But that night in Seattle, he wasn't just good. He was inevitable.
The First Warning Shot: Jim Rice at Third
Most people remember the play at home plate. But you can't talk about the legendary status of the Dave Parker All Star throw without talking about the bottom of the seventh inning first. It was the setup.
Jim Rice—a future Hall of Famer with plenty of speed for a big man—lofted a high fly ball toward the right-field corner. In any other stadium, it’s a routine out. But the Kingdome’s ceiling was festooned with red, white, and blue decorations that acted like camouflage. Parker, usually a vacuum in the outfield, completely lost the ball in the roof.
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It dropped. It was a fluke double.
Rice, sensing blood in the water, decided to test Parker’s recovery and bolted for third base. Bad idea. Parker didn't panic. He tracked the ball down, spun around, and fired a one-hop seed to Mike Schmidt at third. Rice was out by a mile. It was a "how did he do that?" moment that should have served as a warning to the American League dugout. They didn't listen.
The Main Event: Brian Downing and the Cannon
Fast forward to the bottom of the eighth. The game is tied 6-6. There are two outs. The Angels’ Brian Downing is standing on second base, representing the go-ahead run. Graig Nettles of the Yankees rips a sharp single into right field.
This is it. This is the Dave Parker All Star throw that everyone has seen on a loop for forty-plus years.
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Parker charged the ball. He didn't even use a cutoff man. Most outfielders in that situation are taught to hit the relay, but Parker had other plans. He scooped the ball and, in one fluid, violent motion, unleashed a throw that didn't just reach the plate—it attacked it.
Why This Throw Was Different
Usually, a long throw from right field has a high arc. It’s a rainbow. Not this one. Parker’s throw was a "frozen rope." It stayed about ten feet off the ground the entire way.
- Distance: Roughly 240 to 260 feet.
- Trajectory: Flat. Almost no arc.
- The Finish: It reached catcher Gary Carter on the fly. No bounce.
Downing was a fast runner. He was sliding. He thought he had it. But the ball arrived with such force that Carter barely had to move his mitt. Carter took the ball, blocked the plate, and essentially tackled Downing into the Seattle dirt. Joe Garagiola, calling the game on TV, went absolutely wild. "What a throw by Dave Parker!" he yelled. He wasn't exaggerating.
The Aftermath: MVP and a Cabbage Patch Doll
Parker ended up winning the All-Star MVP that year. It’s one of the few times a player won the award primarily because of his arm rather than his bat, though he did have an RBI and a hit earlier in the game.
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Parker’s own account of the night is almost as good as the throw itself. He famously told stories about carrying that MVP trophy through Sea-Tac Airport like it was a "Cabbage Patch doll." He didn't put it in a suitcase. He didn't ship it. He sat it in the first-class seat next to him on the flight back to Pittsburgh. He probably even bought it a drink, or so the legend goes.
Why the Throw Still Matters Today
In 2026, we’re obsessed with Statcast data. We want to know the "arm strength" in miles per hour and the "exchange time" in milliseconds. But the Dave Parker All Star throw exists in a pre-digital vacuum that makes it feel like folklore.
It reminds us of an era when the All-Star Game actually felt like a war. The National League had won seven straight games heading into 1979, and they were desperate to keep the streak alive. Parker wasn't just showing off; he was protecting the NL's pride.
Key Lessons from the Cobra’s Arm
If you’re a young outfielder or a student of the game, there are a few things to take away from this specific moment:
- Recovery is everything. Parker's throw to get Jim Rice happened because he made an error first. He didn't pout. He didn't give up. He stayed in the play.
- Commitment to the throw. On the play at home, Parker didn't hesitate. He knew his range. He knew his power. If you’re going to go for the out at home, you have to throw it like you mean it.
- The importance of the catcher. Gary Carter’s part in this is often overlooked. Catching a ball moving that fast and holding on through a collision is elite-level play.
The Dave Parker All Star throw remains a benchmark for defensive greatness. It’s the play every right fielder dreams of making when they see a runner rounding third. Even forty-plus years later, it’s still the "gold standard" for a reason.
If you want to truly appreciate the mechanics of the play, your best bet is to find the original NBC broadcast footage. Look at Parker's footwork as he prepares to throw—he uses his entire body's momentum, not just his shoulder. This is a clinic on how to generate power from the ground up. Next time you're at the park, pay attention to the right fielder's positioning on a base hit with a runner on second; you'll see the ghost of Dave Parker every time someone tries to challenge the arm.