As has been said, timing is everything. Having won their last five games, the White Sox were smiling and full of cheer when they arrived at Comiskey Park Wednesday. ”Don`t forget, Picture Day,” announced trainer Herman Schneider, and 15 minutes later the players were lined up in front of the mound, five rows deep, for the club`s official team photo.
Carlton Fisk, 44 in December, was the last one to claim his place, and some of his teammates joshed the old codger about being late. And it occurred to me this was another example of Fisk`s slow gait. He is last on the team bus, last to get dressed, last out of the clubhouse. A native of New England, he marches to the leisurely beat of Thoreau`s drummer.
After the pictures were taken, I cornered him in the Sox dugout for a little one-on-one and asked what it is about him, why he is so slow getting it agoing.
”I try to be judicious with my time,” he said. And he went on to explain he has been in enough of these team shoots to know ”they rearrange you for 25 minutes.” His location, because of his 6-foot- 2-inch frame, is always the same, in the middle of the last or next-to-last row. ”So I jump in when we`re ready to go.”
And, he insisted, ”I`m never late. I`m just the last one to get there.” There is also this to consider. He spends more time at the ballpark than any of his teammates. This is because his daily regimen consists of a minimum 90-minute post-game workout, transferring from one weight machine to another. During the conversation I mentioned the possibility that he may not be inducted into the Hall of Fame until the next century. A player is not eligible for enshrinement until his sixth season of retirement.
I asked if he had given thought to playing with one of the National League`s new expansion teams, either Denver or Miami, both of which will be operative for the 1993 season.
Fisk smiled. ”I don`t suppose they`ll protect me,” he said. He is aware, of course, the Sox management could easily give him the pink slip by dropping him and his $2 million salary into the NL expansion pool that will be created after the next season.
The talk swung around to the prevalence of streaks, winning and losing. The Minnesota Twins have won 15 in a row, Texas 14 in a row. The Seattle Mariners lost their first six games, won the next eight, then lost six more. In late May, they were in another downward spin: seven consecutive losses.
Fisk said he had been wondering about this apparent phenomenon. ”Used to be you win two, lose one, win three, lose two. I`ve never seen so many long streaks.”
Did he have an explanation?
”It`s a testament to an outstanding, well-complemented pitching staffs,” he said. ”Most teams, the better teams, have three starters who could shoot you down. And the bullpens are deeper and stronger. Each club has a right- and left-handed long man, right- and left-handed setup men, and if you have a great closer or a closer who is doing great, you`re in good shape. From the first through the ninth inning you`re seeing strong pitching.”
I reminded him that the nature of the streaks vary. Minnesota, for example, put its string together with a mix of tight pitching and timely hitting. In 12 of the Twins` 15 victories, their pitchers allowed three runs of fewer, whereas the Rangers won 14 in a row by mashing the ball. In order, the Rangers won 12-5, 8-1, 5-3, 5-4, 6-4, 13-5, 12-4, 6-5, 5-2, 10-6, 7-3, 8-6, 6-4 and 11-3.
”Once, when I was with Boston, we did it that way. We won with our hitting, and at the same time Baltimore won with its pitching. One year, in the middle `70s, we won 14 out of 16 and we lost a game in the standings to Baltimore.”
I asked if the caliber of play would suffer much by expansion: 50 additional players will be needed to fill the rosters of the two new clubs.
His answer surprised me.
”It won`t make any difference. Baseball, talent-wise, has constantly been diluted. Kids don`t play the game anymore. Nobody plays the game anymore. The kids who play, play because their mothers want them baby-sat for the afternoon. When I was a kid, I played because I wanted to do it. Nobody gave me a uniform and said, `Go out and play.` ”
Fisk raised his voice and in a rapid and uncharacteristic shrill, mocked today`s boys:
”Mommy, I want to go the arcade!
”Mommy, I want to go to the video store.
”Mommy, I want to ride my BMW that my daddy bought.”
Fisk excused himself. It was time for batting practice.
I told him I`d see him again, in Cooperstown, in the year 2,000 or 2,001. The way I figure it, he could play at least three years with an expansion club.
