I'm reading the second straight 1974 issue of
Sports Illustrated in which we get a snide shot at Nolan Ryan.
In the June 24 issue, we get this item in Jim Kaplan's "The Week" column: "
When California Manager Bobby Winkles threatened to remove Nolan Ryan after 12 innings against Boston, Ryan was aghast. 'But I haven't broken my record yet.' 'Record? What record?' 'Most pitches in a game,' said Ryan. In his pursuit of this questionable distinction Ryan was permitted another inning. He fell six short of his own mark of 241, but did establish a club high of 19 strikeouts—two below the major league record for extra-inning games." (In this same column, Kaplan refers to Bill Singer as the Angel's "top pitcher.")
In the July 1 issue, which I am reading this weekend and which covers games through June 22, Kaplan writes, "
Kansas City's Steve Busby beat Milwaukee 2-0 to become the first no-hit pitcher of 1974 and the first man to throw no-hitters in his first two big-league seasons (he no-hit Detroit 3-0 on April 27, 1973). Busby was a reluctant hero. Recalling remarks roommate Paul Splittorff had made, Busby said, 'He told me only certain types of pitchers can throw a no-hitter. He mentioned Nolan Ryan. Then me. I climbed all over him. I'm no no-hit pitcher.'"
I think
the CW must've decided that Nolan Ryan was
Joe Buck, the big, naive Texan who can't cut it in New York. Despite the fact that he pitched very well for the Mets in the 1969 playoffs, the CW apparently never forgave Ryan for
New York's mishandling of and then giving up on him. I know that, when I was growing up in the late 1970s, I certainly thought of Ryan as kind of a silly character on the serious baseball scene--a freakish, statistical side show who simply would find no quarter on a good team. Obviously, 10-year-old me would've been parroting the tenor of what I heard on some NBC
Game of the Week or ABC
Monday Night Baseball broadcast.
But Nolan Ryan just kept on chucking. He never exactly
disproved the CW on its specific qualms. It's hard to imagine, however, Joe Buck turning out as resilient and lasting as Nolan Ryan has turned out to be. By the time he retired in 1993, Nolan Ryan had
turned into a folk hero. He went into the Hall of Fame on landslide first ballot, and now he's
part-owner and president of a team that made the World Series. I'd say Nolan Ryan got the last laugh.
OAK 37-31 TEX 1.5GB CHI 3
KC 3.5 CAL 9 MINN 9
One of my favorite things about Kaplan's weekly reports is how often he dives deep into description of specific, key plays: "Ron Santo apparently struck out on a 3-2, two-out pitch with Dick Allen and Ken Henderson running. Minnesota Catcher Randy Hundley, thinking it was strike two and the White Sox were attempting a double steal, threw wildly to third. Allen scored and Henderson was thrown out at home, but the umpires ruled that Santo had ended the inning by indeed striking out. Minnesota won 3-2."
LA 46-23 ATL 6GB CIN 7
HOUS 12 SF 14 SD 18
Kaplan again: "Here is the scene: bases loaded, two oats, 3-and-2 count on Joe Ferguson. On the pitch he appears to take a called strike. Lee Lacy, who is on third, thinks so, and heads for the dugout. Pirate Catcher Manny Sanguillen thinks so, and rolls the ball toward the mound. Jim Wynn, who is on second, thinks Ferguson has walked, and runs home. Lacy changes his mind and follows suit. Chaos. When players, managers and umpires settle down, the verdict is that Ferguson has walked. Wynn is declared out for passing Lacy and Lacy is safe at home. Pittsburgh Manager Danny Murtaugh protests, but the Pirates make it academic by winning 7-3."
And again: "With Garry Maddox on first, Ed Goodson hit a shot that St. Louis Centerfielder Bake McBride seemed to catch. Goodson rounded first and Maddox passed him on his way back to first. Actually, the ball had touched McBride's glove, fallen over the wall and been returned to him by a stadium attendant. McBride then threw the ball to the infield, causing the confusion. Goodson was given credit for a single but ruled out for passing Maddox on the bases. Maddox was allowed to score from first."
(Incidentally, if you think Dave Tomlin looks unhappy in that 1975 Topps card in the picture, maybe it's because he's a Maysville, Ky., native who lived in West Union, Ohio, and came up with Cincinnati--but was shipped out with Bobby Tolan to last-place San Diego in exchange for Clay Kirby in 1973, before the peak of the Big Red Machine fun.)
PHIL 37-32 ST. L 2GB MONT 4.5
PITT 6.5 CHI 7 NY 10
Kaplan reports that Pittsburgh won six straight, sweeping the Dodgers and Giants, to move from last to fourth over the last week of N.L. East action. Chicago's Rick Reuschel allowed 12 hits but shut out the Pirates, 3-0, to snap the Pirates' run.
BOS 38-28 DET 2.5GB BALT 4
CLEV 4.5 NY 5.5 MIL 5.5
At one game in Milwaukee, Kaplan writes, 18,871 attendees were allowed two cups apiece as part of a free-beer promotion. The Brewers beat the Orioles, 8-6.
(That pictured 1975 Elliott Maddox card on the back reads, "One of Yankee Mgr. Virdon's most controversial moves of 1974 was inserting Elliott in centerfield and moving Bobby Murcer to right. Elliott responded with superb hitting and flawless fielding." Maddox did hit .303, but I would point out that we just learned that Maddox's throwing error allowed Detroit's Bill Freehan to score the winning run in a 4-3 Yankees loss on June 21, 1974. Maybe Topps will issue a corrected 1975 Elliott Maddox card after its P.R. folks read this tomorrow morning.)
Lots of good stuff, as always, in
this issue of Sports Illustrated.
Rod Carew's on the cover (and in the A.L. West picture above). He's the headliner of a
Ron Fimrite story celebrating the rise of singles hitters, which also mentions Atlanta's Ralph Garr, Cincinnati's Pete Rose, Los Angeles's Bill Buckner, Houston's Greg Gross (pictured in the N.L. West collage above), Texas's Lenny Randle and Baltimore's Tommy Davis and Brooks Robinson. Fimrite spends some time writing about Carew's particular bunting prowess; the story says Carew practices the skill 45 minutes per day in spring training and 15 minutes before each game. "Not many modern players are willing to devote much time to something so personally unrewarding," asserts Fimrite.
There's a vicious and damning little item about Maryland's recruitment of Moses Malone. There's stuff on the facts that Arnold Palmer is getting old and the World Cup is a big deal.
And, yet, I find the most entertaining story in the issue to be about the NCAA golf championship, won by Wake Forest and freshman Curtis Strange. Here's Barry McDermott's first two paragraphs:
"A college golf coach is equal parts fidget and fuss, worry and anxiety. Watching one at a tournament is like studying the movies of a rookie father in a maternity ward. Only worse. Childbirth never takes 72 holes. Coaches play bump and run on the course, hiding behind the foliage, disguising themselves as electric golf carts, stalking their players as furtively as the CIA. They fret a lot. That's their job--fretting. And handing out golf balls. Usually their sage advice can be distilled down to this: 'Do better.'
"They were all at the NCAA golf championship in San Diego last weekend, squirming, exhorting, praying, wondering, hoping and giving with a lot of body English. They were easy to spot. Most had on straw hats, and they kept sticking money into the ballwasher and yelling about how the stupid machine would not give them any cigarettes."I like that a load. The whole story's that lively, and there are a lot of great eventual-PGA Tour names sprinkled throughout. The sweetest peaches of sportswriting assignments are those events where the participants care intensely and there's a bunch of drama--but there's almost no one else (especially big TV) there covering it.
Meanwhile, I'm already looking ahead to next weekend's reading of the July 8, 1974, issue, as I see
SI's planning something on the new World Football League!
