Читать книгу The Local Boys - Joe Heffron - Страница 6

by Chris Welsh

WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE TO COME BACK TO CINCINNATI AND PLAY FOR THE REDS, it became much more than simply playing Major League baseball. I was going to be a teammate of my boyhood hero, Pete Rose, and play alongside five other Cincinnati natives—Dave Parker, Buddy Bell, Ron Oester, and Barry Larkin. Think of that! Six players on the field at Riverfront Stadium wearing Reds’ uniforms who all went to high school in Cincinnati.

It was so unusual and special to have so many local players on one team that US magazine shot a centerfold of all of us, along with Marge Schott and Schottzie, posed around her famous leather catcher’s mitt couch. That was a proud moment for Mrs. Schott. It was not the intention of General Manager Bill Bergesch to fill the roster with local players; that was a coincidence. But Mrs. Schott was parochial and she was very proud of her hometown boys.

The local guys on that team covered nearly two generations. Pete was at the end of a 24-year career, and Bell and Parker had more than 10 years in The Show. Ron Oester and I were about the same age, and Barry Larkin was a rookie. We all made an effort to play the game hard, using solid fundamentals, the way we learned to play growing up on the sandlots and dirt infields of Cincinnati.

Cincinnati has been called a “little” big city because of its hometown feel. So people in Cincinnati take pride in a hometown kid who makes it big. One reason Cincinnati grows so many Major League players is the quality of its amateur baseball programs. One of the drivers in quality amateur baseball in Cincinnati is the Midland Baseball organization, namely, Papa Joe Hayden. I think four of the six local Reds players from that 1986 team played for Midland at some point in the their amateur years.

I found out that it is not always easy playing for your hometown team. In terms of pressure, it can wear on you, especially during slumps. When you don’t perform well, you feel like you are not only letting down the team and the fans, but also your family and close friends, who seem to live and die with every at bat or pitch. I knew that every day someone would stop my mom or dad and offer congratulations or condolences, depending how I pitched in my previous game. Knowing that added a little extra incentive and some extra pressure. But soon the novelty of the hometown boy makes good wears away and you approach the game as a professional. You have no choice. I mean, the free ride doesn’t last long. I had a mediocre season and was released along with Pete Rose in the following November. The only difference was that Pete was brought back to be manager and I was looking for a job. Honeymoons don’t last forever. But it was great while it lasted.

One hometown player who will always hold a special place in the hearts of Reds fans is Joe Nuxhall. He played his first Major League game at age 15, of course, and stayed with the Reds nearly his entire life. He loved to promote the local guys because he knew how special it is to play for your hometown team. I remember a game in 1981 when I pitched a shutout against the Reds and Joe invited me on his famous “Star of the Game” show. I knew then that I had made it big. After all, I spent my youth listening to Reds games on the radio and rarely missed his post-game show. In the interview with me, Joe asked more about my roots in Cincinnati than the game I just pitched. That showed me he had a deep respect for his hometown and Cincinnati ballplayers. We talked, laughed, and rambled, and I kept pinching myself to make certain I was really on Joe Nuxhall’s show.

The moment that stands alone for me as a Red was July 5, 1986, when I pitched a complete game win against the Philadelphia Phillies. I hit a home run in that game, and as I trotted the bases and rounded third I looked up and saw Pete Rose. He was waiting at home plate with my jacket. My awareness became fuzzy and my jog to the plate turned magical. There he was, Pete Rose, my boyhood hero, everybody’s hero, the player who I most admired growing up in Cincinnati, waiting at home plate to give me a high five for hitting a home run. Just for a moment, time stopped as a Cincinnati Red.