By A.J. Hayes
In current baseball vernacular, "wearing it" refers to owning up to a hellacious slump, a shoddy performance or bone-headed play sans lame excuse.
"I threw like ass... basically," former Giants pitcher Sidney Ponson so elegantly put it following a horrible game a few seasons ago. That's a fine example of "wearing it."
Blaming a shipment of "soft" bats for a home run drought -- as Oakland slugger Jack Cust did this spring -- is most assuredly not "wearing it."
In the late '70s, much-maligned former Giants shortstop/futility icon Johnnie LeMaster, AKA "Bones," AKA "Johnnie Disaster," took "wearing it" to a whole new level.
In one game vs. the Montreal Expos in 1979, LeMaster "wore it" - literally.
A prototypical good field/no hit shortstop during his best days at the park, the super slender LeMaster was enduring a prolonged stretch of through-the-wickets fielding/don't-even-bother-stepping-into-the-box hitting that had everyone from little kids to blue-haired ladies at Candlestick Park calling for his scraggly '70s-style mustache.
Razzing LeMaster had become the official second language of the frozen concrete bowl by the freeway.
So without informing the higher ups in the San Francisco front office, LeMaster had his name plate removed from the back of his No. 10 Giants jersey and replaced simply with a three letter word: "Boo."
"It really caught everyone off guard, in fact when I walked to the plate that night I could hear manager Joe Altobelli say, 'Why does John have "Bob" on the back of his uniform?'
"That stunt cost me a $500 fine, but it was worth every penny. It won over some of the media and the fans really got a kick out of it," said LeMaster who was honored by the Giants last weekend as part of the club's season long 50th San Francisco Anniversary celebration.
It was the Paintsville, Kentucky resident's first visit to San Francisco's downtown ballpark.
"I'm jealous of the new players. Everything is so plush and inviting, I'd love to take some ground balls or step up to the plate here," said LeMaster, 53, and a grandfather of six. "I'm glad for the players that they have something like this to come to and I'm really happy for the fans."
Though the lithe LeMaster batted just .222 with 22 career home runs in a dozen big league campaigns -11 spent in Orange & Black - he went yard in his first major league at bat with San Francisco, slashing a rare inside the park home run against future Hall of Famer Don Sutton of the Dodgers on Sept. 2, 1975.
"I was a 21-year-old kid and I hit a line drive that hit a seam on the old astro turf at Candlestick Park and it bounced over the center fielders head," LeMaster recalled in his southern lilt. "I just took off running and running. That's the fastest I ever ran and the scariest I'd ever been. It's a memory that will be etched in my mind forever unless I get Alzheimer's or something like that. And hopefully that won't happen."
LeMaster came up through the Giants system during arguably the most turbulent period of the 125-year-old franchise's history. In 1975, the Giants nearly moved to Toronto after drawing all of 522,925 fans.
Though the club remained in the city, it wasn't until 1978 that the Giants recaptured the San Francisco's imagination. With slugger Willie McCovey back with the club after a hiatus with the San Diego Padres and ex-Oakland A's ace Vida Blue fronting the pitching staff and leading cheers in front of the dugout, the Giants took baseball by storm.
The "Little Orange Skateboard" led the National League West for the lion's scare of the '78 season and drew a then San Francisco record 1, 740,480 fans.
"The excitement that was in the air was contagious," LeMaster said. "Though we didn't end up making the playoffs there was a sense of accomplishment here after so many down seasons. It showed good things were coming."
During that period Giants players also made headlines for being one of the first professional clubs to speak openly about religion. LeMaster was part of a born-again group that included infielder Rob Andrews, pitchers Bob Knepper and Gary Lavelle. They were derisively known as the "God Squad."
They were accused of using religion as a crutch for poor performances, allegedly suggesting that it was "God's will" when things failed to happen as planned on the field of play.
Looking back on that controversial period, LeMaster has no regrets.
"I think if you're going to be something, you shouldn't be ashamed of it," he said. "Just as long as you don't force what you believe on somebody else."
Since retiring from baseball in the mid-1980s, LeMaster has backed his talk with some serious walk.
He and wife Debbie have made several trips to Latin America with a Christian organization that builds homes and offers medical assistance in areas stricken by poverty and natural disaster.
Later this month LeMaster is set to make his second trip to the central coast of Peru, site of a devastating 7.9 earthquake last summer that left scores dead and leveled communities.
"We will be rebuilding homes and buildings and helping with medical issues. Our group will include about a dozen doctors and about a half dozen dentists," LeMaster said. "We try to help them physically first and if they wish to have a bible study we do, but don't force it on them in any way, form or fashion."
When LeMaster was introduced to the Giants crowd last Friday night, a hearty applause was punctuated with a few boos.
"I'm a Giant," LeMaster said. "And always will be."
He wears it well.
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Comments (1)
I remember the razzing, LeMaster Disaster, etc. He made some bad plays, but I don't recall him deserving such hostility as if he were the ONLY one who made mistakes on the field. But then, what fun is baseball if you can't rail against a target? ;)
Posted by Keith | May 14, 2008 08:21 AM