by Bob Gibson
It was difficult to pitch in St. Louis after the sixth inning. It was pretty much blood and guts at that point. You’d just be tired. You’d lose weight. You’d cramp. You’d give anything for an ocean breeze.
Reggie Jackson
I had more cramps, hamstring pulls, and muscle tightness when I played in cool weather in Oakland. It was just harder to get loose. I did get better after I started spending time stretching before games.
But I’ll take the hot weather that carries the ball and wears down the pitchers.
Bob Gibson
The best thing about hot weather was that it put me in a bad mood. I found that a bad mood was generally good for pitching.
Reggie Jackson
The mood that worked for me was being excited. The ballpark could play a part in that. I was always excited to play in Yankee Stadium because of all the history. And the crowds. I loved big crowds, loud crowds, rowdy crowds, any kind of crowd.
I got a charge out of Fenway, too, especially as a Yankee. I enjoyed the fans being right there when I was in the outfield, screaming and cussing at me. I was in my element. It was easy to get your blood running at Fenway Park.
And then that Green Monster always standing by, calling to me. Great place.
Bob Gibson
I knew it was time to quit when I’d be out on the mound thinking about something else. Some nonsense that was going on off the field. I’d be out there rehashing something that my wife had said to me, and there’s Willie Mays standing at the plate. What the hell?
You can’t pitch successfully in the major leagues without the ability to block out everything else. That’s essential. If you can’t do that, you don’t belong on the field. You cannot let your personal life interfere with the job you have to do for two and a half hours. The great players all have the ability to shut out distractions.
Reggie Jackson
When there’s a lot of hubbub all around you, the game becomes your sanctuary. I’d get on the field and could finally be alone with what I wanted to do. Didn’t have to worry about what somebody was saying or what was written in a newspaper. I was in my world.
I received a death threat during the 1973 World Series—something that had to do with voodoo—and went out and won the Series MVP Award. Even made some nice catches in center field. I was scared, but not distracted. There was next to nothing that could distract me during a World Series.
For that matter, there wasn’t much, if anything, that could distract me during a ballgame, period. No matter what was going on in my life—in the clubhouse or away from the park—I was a happy camper when the game started. Let’s play baseball.
Bob Gibson
For most of my career, I could focus no matter what. If I was angry about something going on at home, all the better. Once, on Father’s Day in St. Louis, I had the biggest, nastiest argument with my wife that I’d ever had, went to the ballpark, pitched a shutout, and when I got home we took up right where we’d left off. That’s the way it has to be.
Reggie Jackson
I was only married for a short time at the beginning of my career, so I didn’t have many domestic distractions. But I did have support from people close to me, family and friends. Thank God for that.
In 1977, when I was caught up in all the drama with Billy Martin, it was the intervention of my father, my brother, George Steinbrenner, and a friend from Arizona, Gary Walker, that enabled me to get through it. Gary called me every day from Arizona. George would call my father and my father would drive to Trenton, New Jersey, not far from where my brother lived while he was in the Air Force. We’d all meet in Jersey and talk it out. The conversations were about playing ball and forgetting Billy Martin.
But even with all that support—plus Fran Healy in the clubhouse—and even though I was playing the game I loved for the greatest franchise in the world, it was a struggle to keep my head where it needed to be. There was a stretch that year when I was so overwhelmed and distraught by all the stuff that was going on—with Billy, with my teammates, with the feeding frenzy the media created—that I sat on my terrace for five straight hours one day, just staring into Central Park. I wasn’t myself. I was at the bottom emotionally and couldn’t pull out of it. My girlfriend had to come tell me when it was time to leave for the ballpark. I cried all the way there.
Then the game started, I got a couple hits, and we picked up a victory.
I played my best ball down the stretch that year and had a huge World Series. I had to. It was New York. If I hadn’t produced, they’d have run me out of town.
And Billy would have won.
Bob Gibson
In St. Louis, the media doesn’t swallow you whole like it does in New York. The writers didn’t bother me much. We had an understanding: I’d talk if I felt like it and I wouldn’t if I didn’t. They respected that. So I never had a problem.
The way I saw it, the only thing I owed the public—and my boss, for that matter—was a good performance. I definitely owed them that. But as far as giving over and above that, it’s strictly a personal choice. I considered myself a public figure on the field only. If a guy happens to have the type of personality that’s outgoing and engaging and he’s comfortable doing appearances and chatting with the media, fine. But if he doesn’t have that kind of personality, why should he have to bear that burden?
Reggie Jackson
I actually felt the same way about the press. A lot of people might not believe that, because I was known for engaging the writers. It’s true, there were a lot of them around my locker and I filled their notebooks. I developed several friends who were newspaper writers: Dave Anderson, Dick Young, Bob Ryan, Mike Lupica, Murray Chass, Steve Jacobson, Leonard Koppett, and Jim Murray among them. However, I dealt with them on my terms.
I spoke my mind. I was honest. If there were writers I didn’t want to talk to because they hadn’t done their research or I didn’t like their questions, I’d tell them so. If I felt someone didn’t respect the game or tried to get me to comment negatively about a teammate—what did you think of the play that Nettles made, or what about what Sparky Lyle did?—I’d say, write it yourself. I would end an interview at any time.
For the most part, I wasn’t really bothered by what anybody wrote. I felt that as long as I had a bat in my hands, I could rewrite the story anyway. My dad made that point to me, and it stuck.
Bob Gibson
One of the sensitive aspects of talking to the press is that it becomes a spectacle in the clubhouse. There’ll always be writers and cameras at your locker after a good ballgame, and that’s expected, but some players get self-conscious about having the media gathered around them on a regular basis or when there’s no obvious reason for it. The other players see that, and you don’t want it to get to the point that they resent it. You don’t want to give the impression that you think you’re the star, or that you’re the story.
Reggie Jackson
There’s another side to that: A lot of players are happy to have somebody take the press off their backs. I had teammates in Oakland who felt that way. It was something I had to watch in New York—especially when I was still new to the clubhouse—but the fact is that a lot of guys would rather not have to deal with the media. If I was willing to do it, it took the pressure off some of them.
Personally, I welcomed it. On the whole, I enjoyed talking to the writers, because a lot of them are very bright and bring up interesting points. I didn’t fear them like a lot of players do. I treated them as people, and if they happened to be ignorant I reacted accordingly. If they were bright, I had respect for them. I don’t have to apologize for the fact that I made myself accessible to the press and liked some of them.
When you play for the Yankees you’re going to be all over the papers anyway, so why not take some control of that? Say what you think so there’s no misunderstanding and no misrepresentation. I was still misunderstood and misrepresented from time to time, but that comes with the territory.
On
the other hand, I was on the cover of Sports Illustrated eight times, and I’ve always been proud of that. I can still describe every one of them. They’re a validation of who I am as a player and what I’ve accomplished as a player. I went out of my way to cooperate with the SI writers and photographers because, well, I thought it had value to me. I thought the publicity embellished my image.
In 1980, for my sixth cover, the photographer, Walter Iooss Jr., followed me around for about a week. At the end of it, we were playing a Sunday game against Kansas City. I asked him if he needed anything else and he told me, mostly kidding, that he could use another home run or two. I nodded, then hit one off Rich Gale my first time up. The next at-bat I thought I might have had the second one, but the ball was caught on the warning track. I apologized to Walter. In that issue, SI referred to me as “the most obliging” of all their cover subjects, ever. I appreciated that.
It got crazy for a while there in New York, but by and large I loved being in the spotlight. It fit me. It drove me. So why not make the best of it? The media’s not going away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ATMOSPHERE
Reggie Jackson
I don’t know if I understand the term they use to describe a good clubhouse. What’s chemistry? A good clubhouse is good people. People of quality. When you put good people together with good people, you’ve got something.
Chemistry, as they call it, is important, but it isn’t about everybody being chummy and agreeing with each other. It’s about good people—and a lot of talented players who win. That’s chemistry.
Bob Gibson
You never hear about some bozo being a team leader. It’s always somebody who can flat-out play.
Reggie Jackson
It’s somebody who shows the way by example. Since I’ve been around the Yankees, for almost twenty-five years, we’ve had great examples in the clubhouse—all the way back to Catfish Hunter, Ron Guidry, Goose Gossage, Thurman Munson, and Dick Howser. They were guys who made positive impacts.
There’s not a standard profile for a team leader. Different types can affect people in different ways. Players like Derek Jeter and Henry Aaron go about their jobs in a very professional fashion. They discuss problems in private, not in the press. Andy Pettitte talks things over behind closed doors. Munson was a strong personality. Mariano Rivera exudes a quiet strength. George Steinbrenner demands excellence.
Pete Rose left everything on the field. George Brett was like that. Jorge Posada wears his heart on his sleeve. Bernie Williams went about his business. Frank Robinson would do whatever was necessary to win a ballgame. When Bob Gibson takes the mound, or if it’s Catfish Hunter’s turn, you know there is no dilly-dallying around today. There’s a seriousness and a focus that rubs off on everybody. Michael Jordan was that kind of leader.
Bob Gibson
And if Michael Jordan hadn’t been a great player, nobody’d know that.
The press tends to have its own ideas about who the leaders are and who sets the example in the clubhouse. Most good ballplayers are pretty smart guys. Most. There are some who aren’t. But if somebody speaks well and knows pretty much what he’s talking about and will stand there and answer questions without being snippy or rude, the press thinks, wow, what a great guy and wonderful role model. The writers automatically assume that this is the type who’s a team leader. Maybe, maybe not.
It doesn’t matter what the media thinks. Regardless of what writers would write about me, I’d still go about my job the only way I knew how to go about it. Regardless of what my teammates thought about me, same thing. I got along with most of them, but I was outspoken and blunt and I’m sure a lot of guys didn’t like me. I didn’t care. I’m sure they still don’t like me, and I still don’t care.
Reggie Jackson
I’ll grab on to that, because I know all about teammates not liking you.
I was in a tumultuous situation with the Yankees, in terms of personalities and the sociology of the clubhouse. I found my freedom when I was on the field. I was the judge and jury as long as I took a turn in the batter’s box. Those are some of the concepts I’ve tried to pass along to Alex Rodriguez when he’s had his struggles. When you come to bat, you have control. You’re not being tried in court anymore; you’re judge and jury.
Anyway, there’s no such thing as a perfectly harmonious clubhouse. I was in Oakland for nine years, I was in New York for five, I was in Anaheim for five, and there were fracases in each place. Guys get chippy when they’re not doing well or the team’s not playing well. Most of the fights start from kidding, and then they escalate. A lot depends on who’s doing the kidding. It’s sort of like family. If it’s somebody you know well, somebody you’re close to, that’s one thing. But if an outsider starts up with it, he’ll get filleted.
Most of my problems in New York occurred when I was the new guy. I grew up with my teammates in Oakland, and the players in New York grew up without me. It was like that for A-Rod, too, coming up with the Mariners and then signing a record-breaking contract with a team that had won 101 games without him the year before. Alex has a totally different personality than I, but the dynamics were basically the same.
For most of the 1977 season, I couldn’t get into the rhythm of the clubhouse. It was so uncomfortable for a while that a couple guys even moved their lockers away from me. Ouch!
Bob Gibson
A little friction is to be expected when you get that many high-spirited people in the same room every day. You’ll have conflicts. But it shouldn’t reach the point where you fight about it.
Reggie Jackson
Our Oakland teams were famous for that. We were mad all the time because Charlie Finley was so cheap and we didn’t have the amenities that most teams did, even though we were winning championships. We couldn’t slug Charlie, so we took it out on each other. I had little tiffs with Mike Epstein and John (Blue Moon) Odom, and a bigger one with Billy North. Vida Blue and Bert Campaneris got into it one day. Blue Moon threw a Coke bottle at one of our guys.
We were young and full of testosterone. Fights were so common in that clubhouse that we’d just deal the cards and keep on playing, unless it was your turn to break it up. But everybody always made up afterwards. I don’t think it ever undermined what we were trying to do on the field. If anything, we were united in our anger toward Finley.
Bob Gibson
It’s far more important to respect one another than like each other. It’d be nice if everybody was everybody’s pal, but for whatever reason—jealousy or what have you—that just doesn’t happen.
Reggie Jackson
There’s always going to be some jealousy of the superstars. That’s life. The sociology of what goes on inside a baseball team is very similar to what goes on inside society. There are good people and there are bad people. There are agreeable people and disagreeable people. There are people who are admirers and people who are jealous. It’s not extraordinary to have jealousy and resentment within a group of twenty-five competitive men who are all compensated differently.
That said, I do think it’s rare to see real animosity inside a clubhouse. If there is some, you still have a job that you’re paid to do. There’s still a responsibility to be professional about your work.
You earn respect by the way you play. You have to play hard. That’s something I thought was easy to do. I wasn’t really concerned about whether you liked me or disliked me, but you were going to respect me. You were going to respect the way I played the game.
Bob Gibson
Too much is made of camaraderie and chemistry and all that stuff. I don’t need a teammate that I love. Give me one who can play.
Reggie Jackson
But you know, I found that I attracted more respect toward the end of my career, when I couldn’t play the way I could in 1969 or 1977. My second time around in Oakland, when I batted .220 with fifteen home runs, I was viewed by my teammates as a leader. I called a team meeting after a long, bad road trip, and the playe
rs responded. During the season, I broke the hamate bone in my right hand and was thinking about retiring early until the other guys stepped forward and persuaded me not to.
Bob Gibson
Your attitude toward the game, and toward your teammates, tends to evolve as you go along. I know mine did. Late in your career, when you can’t do the things you could before, you’re a little humbler. And the people around you pick up on that.
But in a case like Reggie’s, there’s something else that comes into play. It wasn’t any ordinary ballplayer they were talking to. It was Mr. October. They were dealing with a guy who was headed to the Hall of Fame, who was all over the magazine covers, who they all watched hit three straight home runs to close out a World Series.