“Daddy, what did Greg Maddux say?”

I am thrilled that the best pitcher of my lifetime is being inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.  This is Greg Maddux’s first year of eligibility, and anyone who kept up with baseball between 1988 and 2003 knew that Maddux would be a surefire Hall of Famer.  He’s been elected along with teammates John Smoltz and Tom Glavine, and manager Bobby Cox.

Maddux is the best pitcher I’ve ever seen.  During his career, which stretched from the mid-80s to the late 2000’s, no one compared to him.  His first couple of years weren’t that great, and he hung around a bit too long at the end, but during the heart of his career he was dominant.  He spent most of those years with the Braves, after signing with them in December 1992.  He’d just come off a 20-win year for the Chicago Cubs, working in a hitter-friendly park.  Although the Braves had failed in previous years with some big-name free agents, I was cautiously optimistic that Maddux would be a keeper.

Boy, was he ever.  Pinpoint control.  He worked fast, unlike some pitchers who were human rain delays.  One Sunday we got to Atlanta a little late, and then circled the stadium a couple of times looking for a good parking space.  Before you know it, it’s the fourth inning.  Find your seat, grab a hot dog, it’s the seventh.  Game over, in an hour and fifty-eight minutes.  Didn’t we just pay ten dollars to park a few minutes ago?  He didn’t waste any time.

He could also field his position, with the cat-like reflexes of a shortstop, winning 18 Gold Gloves.  We now know he wasn’t just a thrower, he was a thinker.  He mapped out a game plan on each opposing batter way in advance, sometimes months!  He always had his own catcher, opting for guys who knew his subtle signals.  Damon Berryhill, Charlie O’Brien, Eddie Perez.  They knew what Maddux was thinking, on a higher level.

As my sons Chris and Vince emerged from toddler-hood to strapping young 5-and-6 year old players themselves, they were mesmerized with Braves pitchers.  They would study their pitching styles, and imitate their deliveries.  With Maddux, I was afraid they’d imitate something else too.  You see, things didn’t go wrong very often for Maddux.  I mean, one season he went more than 70 innings without giving up a walk!  So when he’d make a rare mistake, he would express himself quite clearly.  As baseball’s TV audio got better, those field microphones picked up everything.  So Maddux would release the ball, the batter would make solid contact, and viewers could easily hear Maddux yell a full-throated obscenity.  “What did he say, Daddy?” the kids would ask.  “Luck!” I would quickly lie.  “He’s saying he had bad luck!”  “Oh, okay,” they’d respond, looking at each other like, “Well he is our dad, and he’s never wrong.”

A few minutes later, Maddux would unleash a rare 3-2 pitch outside the strike zone, and again the microphones would pick up his reaction, sometimes aided by a camera close-up.  “#@&#@*%” would come through clear as a bell on TBS, as announcer Skip Caray would chuckle in response.  “What did he say this time, Daddy?”  Ever the quick thinker, I’d make something up.  “He’s really sad, boys, and he wishes his mother would bring him a sucker.  Would you guys like one?” (Anything to change the subject).  Soon of course, they would hear all kinds of interesting new words at school, and they realized I was a lying fraud.  Thankfully they loved me anyway. Besides, as manager Bobby Cox set the record for being ejected by umpires, we all learned some new vocabulary words, because Bobby made it easy for us lip readers.

Still, I’m thrilled that Maddux and his pitching mates are Hall of Famers.  Yes, Maddux should have been a unanimous selection, but 16 “baseball writers” (out of 571 who voted) obviously did not follow baseball for during his career and do not have internet access, so they are unaware of Maddux’s unparalleled accomplishments.  I guess it would be like me voting for best nuclear physicist.  I might as well draw names out of a hat, which is apparently what they did.  Maddux has been gracious through it all, even paying tribute to his longtime center fielder Andruw Jones, who’s a forgotten hero these days.  When Jones played center field, the Braves could have had me and John Goodman playing left and right field, because Andruw caught everything that was hit in his zip code.  Maddux, more of a contact pitcher than a strikeout guy, appreciated that strong defense.

It’s important to note too, that Maddux pitched in the “Steroid Era,” making his achievements even more impressive.  He dominated hitters during a time in which many of them were chemically enhanced.  Maddux’s soft belly revealed a training regimen of cheeseburgers and Krispy Kremes.  Just another reason he’s my kind of guy.