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 I was born in Southern California in 1946. My mother, Marilynn, was a teacher and coach and she had me and my younger brother, Rick, and even younger sister, Laura, reading and writing before we got into kindergarten. She also won the Los Angeles City Championship in girls swimmng and gymnastics at Chatsworth High School.
As a result of having a teacher/coach mom, we all did pretty well in school and caught the sports bug at an early age. I actually went down to little league tryouts with my dad, Chuck, when I was seven, even though kids had to be eight years old to play. As it turned out, they needed a few more kids to fill out all the teams so they let me try out and I started playing a year early. As I look back, I think I was born to play baseball. I was always one of the tallest kids and could throw harder than any of them right up through high school. When I wasn't playing baseball, I was usually at the beach.
After I signed with the Colt 45's, the General Manager, Paul Richards, came to see some of us in the rookie league. He taught me to throw a slider in about 5 minutes. It was so easy, I couldn't believe I hadn't come up with it on my own. That one pitch, along with good velocity and enough control to throw strikes allowed me to leap from high school to the major leagues in a single bound. One of my career highlights was striking out Willie Mays on September 22, 1964, my 18th birthday.
The next year the 45's moved into the Astrodome and became the Astros. On opening day, 25 Astronauts stood behind the home dugout and threw out 25 ceremonial first pitches. I can't remember which of them threw the ball to me.
For the first few years, I was good enough to be competitive, but not among the best in the league as I was not sharp enough to hit corners or experienced enough to know when to challenge a hitter and when to pitch around him. I learned to throw breaking balls when behind in the count in the Dominican Republic in the winter of 1967-1968. The next year, I was 12-15. At that stage, I knew how to pitch, but didn't quite have enough control to consistently do it well. The following year, 1969, it all came together and I had my best season. Richards said I was able to make the grade so young because, "he's got ice water in his veins." I guess I was known for my calm (laid back) exterior. In fact, I was told by friends that I yawned when I got out of the golf cart that brought me into the All Star game Washington that year. I can assure you, I was not sleepy.
 The rest of my career was pretty good, but the Astros, as a team, weren't great. I had three chances to pitch a no-hitter. I lost the first one in the ninth at Shea Stadium when I was 19 years old (I had a perfect game going in that one and ended up getting the loss). The next chance came in 1969 in Atlanta. I lost that no hitter on an infield hit with two outs in the ninth. I pitched 12 scoreless innings in that one but got no decision when we lost in the bottom of the 13th. I finally got the no-no on July 9, 1976, (my last year with the Astros) long after I thought I was capable of doing it.
During the second half of my pitching career, I had a lot of arm trouble, elbow then shoulder, and got more than my fair share of cotrisone shots. I managed to post a winning record, but didn't get to experience a championship season in uniform until I came back to the dugout from the broadcast booth to manage the team in 1997.
In my first year back in the dugout, we had a pretty good team and won a pretty weak division on the last weekend of the season. What a thrill that was. The next two years were better. In 1998 we won 102 games (a team record) and I was voted Manager of the Year. In '99, I thought I did a better job as we won 97 games depsite having many of our best players on the disabled list for long stretches of the season. I missed a month too, when I suffered a grand mal seizure in the dugout in a game against the Padres. We maintained our lead that year but the Reds put relentless pressure on us and we didn't clinch until the last day of the season.
The final game that year is the most memorable of my entire career. It was the last regular season game in the Astrodome and we had to win to finish ahead of the Reds. After the game, a ceremony was scheduled to introduce the all-time Astrodome team. I was on it, along with a few players from my day, a few from the time when I was broadcasting and, as I recall, three players from the '99 team, Craig Biggio, Jeff Bagwell and Billy Wagner. What a feeling that was to be standing on the field with all those great players while confetti was falling from the ceiling of the Dome. Champagne corks were popping and the bubbly flowing, some of it actually reaching our stomaches.
After we won the division again in 2001, I was dismissed and that's when I started writing It Ain't Brain Surgery. I actually began writing a column for the Chronicle when I was broadcasting. I also wrote, produced and recorded the Baseball Library for the Astros radio pre-game show at that time. Now you can relive these shows right here on this website.
As I look back, I realize that I was blessed with enough pitching talent to make it to the major leagues, enough analytical talent to manage a team and enough writing talent to get my work published. Nobody deserves that many gifts, but I'll take them -- especially because they are gifts I have been able to share.
 I don't think I was a good enough pitcher to have my number retired, but I did feel worthy when that honor was accorded me in 2002 because of the wide range of my contributions to the team and its fans.
No, it has not been easy street. There have been plenty of bumps in the road. But I certainly don't have any regrets, and what's more, I feel really excited about this website and whatever I can get out of this keyboard in the future. |
