Harold Baines has always had his priorities straight. In these days when youngsters are searching for a so-called role model, Baines had no problem finding his hero.
It’s his father, Linwood Sr., a life-long bricklayer who lives in nearby St. Michael’s, a 90-minute drive from Camden Yards. “He put the clothes on our back and the food on the table and he did that very well,” Baines said. “He worked from dawn to dusk. By the time I saw him it was night.”
The elder Baines, like his celebrity son, is a man of few words.
“Inwardly, I know he’s very proud of me,” Harold said here before Wednesday night’s game against the Yankees. “He’s not very emotional.”
I have known Baines for 15 years, since he surfaced with the White Sox in 1980. During that time only once have I seem him bubbling over with joy. It was during a crowded civic ceremony at the Daley Plaza in celebration of the 1983 White Sox divisional championship.
Harold Washington was then the mayor and when he rose to speak the crowd began chanting, “Harold! Harold!” It was immediately apparent the “Harold! Harold!” shout was in tribute to Baines, not the mayor.
Baines, seated on a folding chair on the raised platform, couldn’t contain himself and had several bursts of what appeared to be uncontrollable laughter.
Baines doesn’t remember that moment but has many vivid recollections of his 10 seasons with the White Sox. And six years after his departure–he was traded to the Texas Rangers–he still has a soft spot for Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf.
“He’s always been a good friend,” Baines said. “He still comes out to the ballpark to say hello to me. In any job you want to be respected. He respected me and I respect him.”
Reinsdorf’s appreciation reached unprecedented heights. Soon after Baines was traded, his uniform number was retired, probably the first time a player was so honored while he was still active.
“I get kidded about that every time I go to Comiskey Park,” Baines observed, “especially by Brady Anderson . He always says to me, loud, so everyone can hear, `How can a man still be playing when his number is retired?’ “
“I do more than that,” Anderson said. “I tell him, `How can you make an out when you’re already in the Hall of Fame.’ “
At 36, Baines still doesn’t make any outs. He is hitting .320 with 7 home runs and 23 runs batted in.
“I have to produce,” said Baines, who has been a full-time designated hitter for the last eight seasons.
A realist, Baines knows he must continue hitting to keep his job. “I’m an offensive player. I don’t play defense.”
Not surprisingly, he is as steady as Gibraltar with a .288 career average as a DH, same as that when he played in the field. He ranks fourth among active players in RBIs, with 1,22l–trailing only Eddie Murray, Andre Dawson and Dave Winfield, all potential Hall of Famers.
It hasn’t been a total joyride. Baines has had six knee surgeries, four on the right knee, which he injured near the end of the 1986 season when he stepped on a pitcher’s ankle (at first base), trying to beat out an infield hit.
The right knee has never completely healed. “I’m not aching every day but I still feel it,” Baines said.
Baines conceded the years have slowed him down. He has lost a few steps. When he broke in he was 175 pounds. He is now up to 210.
But, more important, he continues to have a remarkably quick bat.
“When you have good bat speed, you don’t have to be a big strong guy. That’s one thing about baseball. You don’t have to be big and strong. But you have to be quick to hit a 90-mile-an-hour fastball.”
I asked if he had any advice for young players trying to increase their bat speed.
“It’s in the genes,” he replied.
His taciturn nature, which has grown to near legendary proportions, is also hereditary, Baines said.
“None of us were big talkers,” Baines said, speaking of his family. “I don’t believe in talking unless you’ve got something to say.”
Elrod Hendricks, the long-time Baltimore coach, confessed that occasionally, in the clubhouse, he’ll shout to Baines, ” `Harold, why are you so quiet?’ And Harold just stands there and laughs.”
But the silence ends when it comes to hitting.
Tuesday night, for example, Baines summoned Hendricks to throw to him. Baines was convinced his timing was off.
“Harold doesn’t have any weaknesses,” Hendricks insisted. “There isn’t one area he isn’t solid in. When he has his timing he doesn’t care if the pitch is high or low, or inside or outside. I think he can play three or four more years.”
