ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, July 31, 1994                   TAG: 9408020027
SECTION: SPORTS                    PAGE: C7   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: JOHN KEKIS ASSOCIATED PRESS
DATELINE: COOPERSTOWN, N.Y.                                 LENGTH: Long


CARLTON, RIZZUTO, DUROCHER ON COOPERSTOWN PODIUM

Steve Carlton's baseball journey ends where it really began: Cooperstown.

After pitching 25 shaky innings for St. Louis in 1965, Carlton was demoted to the minors. In July 1966, Tulsa manager Charlie Metro approached Carlton and said: ``Steve, pack your stuff, you're going to Cooperstown.''

Carlton joked: ``Already?''

Carlton actually was being summoned to pitch for the St. Louis Cardinals in the annual Hall of Fame exhibition game against the Minnesota Twins. He went the full nine innings against the defending American League champions, striking out 10, and was called up to the major-league club to stay.

Today, 28 years later, Carlton will be back at Cooperstown to be inducted into baseball's Hall of Fame.

Ironically, the 49-year-old left-hander known for his silence will share the Hall of Fame spotlight with two others who became famous for talking a lot: Leo Durocher and Phil Rizzuto.

What Carlton will say at the induction ceremony is a mystery.

``I have no idea,'' said Tim McCarver, Carlton's longtime catcher and close friend. ``Your guess is as good as mine.''

A Philadelphia Phillies spokesman said Carlton was in one of his non-talking moods before the ceremony.

``I'm happy for Steve, mostly because the public will get to know Steve Carlton the man, which I don't think they've had a chance to know because of the stance he took with the press,'' former Philadelphia third baseman Mike Schmidt said. ``He's an intelligent, funny guy with a great sense of humor.''

That was nearly impossible to discern when Carlton was playing. He refused to talk to reporters for nearly half of a 24-year pitching career that began in 1965 with the Cardinals and ended 329 wins later in 1987 with the Twins.

Carlton chose to do his communicating on the mound, where he excelled - sometimes beyond belief - with his intimidating curveball, blazing fastball and elusive slider.

How good was he? Says outfielder Clint Hurdle: ``When you call a pitcher `Lefty' and everybody in both leagues knows who you mean, he must be pretty good.''

He was - much to the dismay of Cardinals owner Gussie Busch, who traded Carlton to Philadelphia for Rick Wise in 1971 - after Carlton had posted the first of his six 20-win seasons.

``We were absolutely delighted to get him,'' said McCarver, Carlton's media mouthpiece during that era of silence. ``Gus Busch got involved personally. It was strictly a money thing. They were only $10,000 apart.''

Carlton, who grew up on the edge of the Everglades in Miami, must have really liked the trade. Maybe it was the fine wines and restaurants of Philadelphia, which he relished. It couldn't have been the Phillies; they were futile. St. Louis had scored nearly 200 more runs than Philadelphia in 1971. Before the 1972 season started, Carlton seemed a sure bet for 20 losses.

He proved otherwise.

If any pitcher ever had a better year, the record books don't yield the evidence. Carlton, the only pitcher to win four Cy Young Awards, was 27-10 for a team that won only 59 games and finished dead last. Included were 310 strikeouts and a 1.98 earned-run average, both league bests, and 15 consecutive wins.

``I was so focused. I could move the ball half a ball over, a full ball over,'' Carlton said in a 1972 interview. ``I had incredible focus that year.''

Three seasons later, he decided to shut out the media. Those who wanted to communicate with him talked to McCarver.

``Midway through the 1975 season he seemed to be on edge,'' said McCarver, now a broadcaster. ``He wasn't himself. He didn't appear happy. He said he felt maligned by the subjectivity of the press.''

Carlton, who lives in a solar-powered, underground home on a 400-acre spread in Durango, Colo., consented to an interview after his 200th win in 1978. Unhappy over remarks attributed to him in the sports pages the next day, he clammed up until he retired. He did not talk through two more Cy Youngs, two World Series and his 300th victory.

He was 24-9 in 1980, when he pitched the Phillies to their lone World Series championship.

``I had it good for 10 years, and that's the way I liked it,'' Carlton said in 1986. ``The press was very favorable to me in my abstinence from speaking.''

If Carlton was fearsome on the mound, he could appear flaky off it.

He trained by plunging his pitching arm into tubs of white rice and squeezed steel balls in the clubhouse. He spent hour after hour meditating in the Phillies' ``mood room'' - an area designed for him in Veterans Stadium with special music and lighting. He was into martial arts and Eastern philosophy while most of his teammates were playing cards and practical jokes.

To some he's a kind, funny guy - if eccentric. To others, his views border on the fringe. A Philadelphia magazine article this past spring quoted him as saying that the past eight presidents are guilty of treason, that the AIDS virus was created in a secret lab to rid the world of homosexuals and blacks, that the Elders of Zion, 12 Jewish bankers in Switzerland, rule the world.

When an uproar ensued, Carlton said the article was not truthful and he denied saying anything that could be interpreted as offensive to Jews.

Carlton will share the Hall of Fame dais today with Rizzuto, who waited 26 years for the honor and finally was elected by the Veterans' Committee.

Famous for his exclamation ``Holy Cow!'' and his on-air greetings to fans as a New York Yankees broadcaster, the diminutive player known as ``Scooter'' batted .273 and hit only 38 home runs in 13 years at shortstop.

Rizzuto always said he didn't think he belonged in the Hall of Fame alongside such Yankees legends as Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle and Babe Ruth, even though he won the American League Most Valuable Player Award in 1950.

At 5 feet 5, he was the smallest man in camp when he was called up at age 23, and the players wouldn't let him in the clubhouse or take batting practice until DiMaggio intervened. ``Let the kid hit,'' he said.

Rizzuto, who revolutionized the art of bunting, was a bundle of nerves then, not unlike his state of mind for the past week.

``If I last until Sunday, it will be a miracle,'' Rizzuto, 77, said. ``I've been a nervous wreck. I haven't been sleeping well, pasta doesn't taste good, I've lost a few pounds. I don't think my feet have touched the ground yet. I won't think it's final until I get that ring. My biggest dream is to say, `Holy Cow!' and faint, and wake up with the ring on my finger.''

Entering the Hall of Fame with Rizzuto will be another shortstop, Leo Durocher, who died in 1991. His former wife, actress Laraine Day, will accept his plaque.

It was as a manager that Durocher - known as ``Leo the Lip'' for his arguments with umpires and baseball officials - made his mark on the game. In 26 seasons of managing the Brooklyn Dodgers, New York Giants, Chicago Cubs and Houston Astros, he had 2,008 wins and 1,709 losses, the sixth-best record in baseball history. He won pennants with Brooklyn in 1941 and with the Giants in 1951 and 1954.



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