He was our “Mr. Cool.” He was the White Sox version of Steve McQueen, Paul Newman or Frank Sinatra.
Maybe it was the batting helmet, the glasses, the pork-chop sideburns, the goatee, the long-sleeve undershirt that he wore even when it was 90 degrees out, or the 40-ounce bat.
Maybe it was the big Cadillac, or the fact that he was the highest-paid player in the game.
Whatever it was, Dick Allen had it and a certain generation of Sox fans loved it. Of course they loved it even more when Allen started hitting baseball to the farthest reaches of Comiskey Park.