Douglas, seat of Coffee County, is a little town (pop. 10,980) near the bottom of Georgia, an hour and a half north of the Florida line and light-years from Atlanta. The nearest interstate is 50 miles west. Fifty miles or so the other way is the Okefenokee Swamp.
It doesn`t get real cold down in Douglas very often, but it was cold last week, even with the glow of Christmas lights imparting a different kind of warmth. It was so cold that Greg Walker had a fire blazing in his Douglas home to break the chill.
”Just threw on another log,” said Walker.
That he`s able to throw anything is good news for Walker. It`s been a little more than two months since the White Sox first baseman-designated hitter had surgery on his right shoulder, an operation designed to save his career.
The early signs are encouraging. But it`s early.
”My arm feels great,” Walker said. ”I think everything`s way ahead of schedule.
”I`m swinging, lifting weights, and I`ve been throwing for a couple of weeks. I`m at least throwing as good as I was already. I expect to be able to throw better.”
This is the second straight Christmas filled with uncertainty for Greg Walker. A year ago, he was recovering from the effects of seizures that threatened his life, and no one was sure Walker would ever wear a uniform again.
He beat that, but after a good spring training, a hip injury put him on the disabled list in April. By July, his shoulder, which had bothered him for much of his career, had deteriorated to the point where swinging a bat was excruciating and playing first base was impossible.
He wound up with 5 homers (all with the bases empty), 26 runs batted in and a career-low .210 average over 77 games.
”Last year didn`t turn out the way I wanted it to,” Walker said, ”but I`m very optimistic.”
A couple of weeks ago, Jeff Torborg, the Sox manager and an admirer of Walker, was asked to project his 1990 starter at first base.
Ron Kittle, Torborg said.
”I liked (Carlos) Martinez over there in September as well,” he added,
”but I liked him at third, too.”
”Right now,” General Manager Larry Himes, disappointed at the club`s failure to sign free-agent first baseman Pete O`Brien, said a day or two later, ”Carlos Martinez is our first baseman.”
Kittle, still learning the position and coming off back surgery. Martinez, still learning the position and coming off a year of emotional peaks and valleys.
No Walker.
He knows what`s going on. He knows that Himes badly wanted O`Brien.
”They didn`t get him, though, did they?” Walker said, a hint of satisfaction evident in his voice. ”It`s easy to chase somebody. It`s hard to get somebody.”
He knows Himes was even talking about going after Keith Hernandez, though that didn`t get far.
Himes-unlike Torborg, unlike club chairman Jerry Reinsdorf-hasn`t called Walker at all during his recuperation. That, along with all the excited but ultimately meaningless chatter about O`Brien and Hernandez, might suggest that Himes and Walker aren`t pals, that another variety of chill has moved south from Chicago.
It doesn`t matter. Walker, 30, knows the only thing guaranteed about 1990 is his contract, a tribute to Reinsdorf`s sense of loyalty and honor. He`ll have to win a job. And the competition isn`t so much Kittle or Martinez or Ivan Calderon or Tracy Woodson or Steve Lyons. The competition is doubt, a reasonable doubt, that Walker can perform to big-league standards.
”I feel I`ve got a real good opportunity to play again in Chicago,”
Walker said. ”Hopefully, it`ll work out.
”Really, the way I`m looking at it is if I go to spring training as healthy as I can and show everybody I`m ready to play, I feel sure that I`ll play someplace. Sooner or later, I`ll get a chance to play again. In this game, as long as you produce, you`ll play somewhere.
”That`s what I`ve got to do.”
