Greg Maddux only needed 11 words in spring training 2007 to absolutely demolish a young reporter. Though the injury was temporary, the Hall of Famer’s phrasing was about as pinpoint as his legendary pitch command and has led to countless retellings of this story. It also was the beginning of a brief yet entertaining and insightful media member-player relationship that has helped me develop as a reporter.
Advertisement
Maddux was starting his first of two seasons with the San Diego Padres toward the end of a 23-year Hall of Fame career. I’d only been on the Padres beat for several days and was trying to figure out how to work the clubhouse. In that first week, respecting players’ schedules and offering ample space seemed like a solid way to start. Still, it didn’t take long to realize too much flexibility makes it harder to get the quotes needed for a story.
At that point, my interactions with professional athletes had been limited to NASCAR drivers, mixed martial arts fighters and golfers. Most of those interviews had come in press conferences, though once before the Long Beach Grand Prix celebrity race I did a one-on-one with Meat Loaf about his 18 fantasy baseball teams.
The day before I approached him, Maddux addressed the entire beat and offered his outlook on a potentially promising team. I wasn’t sure what to initially expect and figured he’d be intimidating. Instead, he was low-key and a little guarded, but seemed affable and open to shooting the breeze. He also had a corner clubhouse stall with only one other teammate seated nearby.
Knowing how critical it is to develop a rapport with players, I figured I’d talk to Maddux about the 1993 pennant race. Back then he played for the Atlanta Braves, who rallied from 4 1/2 games back on Sept. 1 to win the National League West by one game. Atlanta finished with 104 victories while my favorite team, the San Francisco Giants, had 103.
If you loved the Giants, no season was sweeter than 1993.
At the end of the 1992 season, it seemed all but a foregone conclusion the Giants were moving to St. Petersburg, Fla. It was a crushing time for a young fan.
But months after the 1992 season ended, everything changed. On Dec. 9, 1992, Barry Bonds left the Pittsburgh Pirates for a six-year deal worth $43.75-million with the Giants, under a new ownership group that intended to keep the team in San Francisco. That season, the Giants also introduced new manager Dusty Baker and the loud, metal bleachers at Candlestick Park that ran from the left-field line through center field and brought fans seated in the outfield much closer to the action for $4.75 a ticket.
Advertisement
From the outset, 1993 looked special. Not only did a group of 16-year-olds have access to a car that made the hour-long drive more feasible, the lineup featured Will Clark, Matt Williams and Bonds hitting 3-4-5. A strong start to the season was highlighted with wins in three of four against the Braves — who were coming off consecutive World Series appearances — at home in mid-April, including a thrilling 13-12 win in 11 innings in the finale after falling behind 5-0 and 11-6.
The Giants’ had a five-game lead on June 1 and it was up to nine games when Atlanta traded for Fred McGriff on July 19, 1993.
Acquiring McGriff changed everything. The Braves got hot. The Giants continued to play well, but Atlanta was gaining momentum when the two were headed into a big three-game series in late August in San Francisco.
If the Giants won the series, they’d put the Braves away for good. The team’s flagship radio station, KNBR, promoted the series and gave away free tickets for weeks, but my friends and I repeatedly came up empty.
Somehow, my mom bought us tickets for the Aug. 25 series finale. Unfortunately, our seats were located in the upper deck, Section 59. But it didn’t matter that we were seated all the way in Oakland, we were going.
By the time the day of the game rolled around, there was a bit of panic. Atlanta won the first two games of the series and Maddux, who won his first Cy Young in 1992 and was en route to his second of four straight, pitched the finale. The Giants’ lead was down to 5 1/2 games after sitting at 9 1/2 on Aug. 7.
On a personal level, it only got worse. Our driver, Eric, was running late that day. The game had already begun by the time we reached the now-Robin Williams Tunnel on the Waldo Grade. We were roughly 25 minutes from the park when McGriff and Dave Justice hit back-to-back solo homers to give Maddux a 3-0 lead in the first inning.
Advertisement
By the time we reached the park, it was 4-0. It was also 89 degrees at first pitch.
We never made it to our seats. We walked by our section and realized it was miserably hot, the stands were packed (53,125 watched the game) and Maddux wasn’t going to give up a four-run lead.
Instead, our group of six headed to the stadium club and sat in the air-conditioned shade and listened to the rest of the ass-kicking on the radio.
As a curious reporter 14 years later, I wondered how much Maddux remembered about that game, series and the rest of the pennant race.
After thinking for a few seconds, a little smile crept across his face and Maddux delivered an unexpected crushing blow.
“Oh yeah,” he said, “that’s when we went in there and rat-fucked ‘em.”
On the outside, I laughed out loud and quickly asked another question. On the inside, I was reeling and looking for a room in which 16-year-old me could curl up into the fetal position. The details from the rest of the conversation are a blur.
But from that point on, the job became easier. Making conversations with players no matter their stature seemed less daunting.
Maddux became one of the guys with whom I was most comfortable making small talk, which is critical when you spend as much time in the clubhouse as reporters do. It eased me into my first season as a beat reporter.
He was never big on talking about his about his own career, but Maddux offered a ton of perspective on his teammates in a season in which Jake Peavy received all 32 first-place Cy Young votes and fellow starter Chris Young also was invited to the All-Star Game.
By the time he was traded to the Los Angeles Dodgers the following year, Maddux told me several amazing stories of his own. None was better than the one about the game that made him a fan for life, when he went to Riverfront Stadium as a kid and was blown away watching Reds outfielder George Foster climb the fence to rob a home run.
Advertisement
Too bad, I had nothing disparaging to say about Foster or The Big Red Machine.
(Top photo: Lenny Ignelzi / AP)
