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In fame's shadow Five old pros guided Ryan to prominence 07/25/99 By Gerry Fraley / The Dallas Morning News
Why did he start with an organization that had a gifted minor league director? Who arranged for a patient pitching coach when he was out of patience and another coach who filled a void in his life? What made him step into that hotel coffee shop? Could his body have survived the rigors of pitching in a record 27 major league seasons without the intervention of others? "I'm a believer that in the course of your life, your paths cross with other people," Ryan said. "If you cross paths with the right person at the right time, they can have a real positive impact on your life." These people did. A look at some of the little-known but major influences on Ryan's Hall of Fame career: Ask Dorrel Norman "White Rat" Herzog who the best minor league director was, and he will admit in all modesty, "Got to be me." Whitey Herzog can make a good case for himself. Before becoming a renowned manager, Herzog worked as the New York Mets' minor league director. He focused on pitchers. From 1967 to '72, when Herzog ran the operation, the Mets churned out talented, hard-throwing pitchers. That included a lanky Texan whom Herzog thought bordered on lazy: Nolan Ryan. "He was one of the best kids you'd ever want to meet, but he didn't seem to have the gumption," Herzog said. "He didn't have much drive. Every time we'd have a meeting, he'd be half asleep, and I'd have to yell to wake him up. He didn't give me any trouble. That's just the way he was. "But it didn't take much to see that fastball and that arm." Herzog knew how to care for those arms. The Mets started the movement toward a five-man starting rotation during his tenure. He refused to overextend young arms, a philosophy that might have saved Ryan's career. When Ryan's military reserve duty had ended, the Mets had him start the 1967 season with Winter Haven, Fla., of the Class A Florida State League. After one game, Ryan advanced to Jacksonville, Fla., of the Class AA Southern League. In three road relief appearances, Ryan had 18 strikeouts in seven innings. His first home start attracted a sellout crowd. Herzog attended the game and thought something was wrong with Ryan. Herzog ordered Ryan scratched, even though the Jacksonville general manager screamed in protest. An examination found Ryan had a torn forearm tendon, and he did not pitch again that season. "If Whitey and [manager] Bill Virdon hadn't been so strong about it, who knows what would have happened?" Ryan said. Traded by the Mets to the Angels, Ryan made his debut with California in 1972. It was also the first year of a new Angels pitching coach: Tom "Plowboy" Morgan. They made an ideal pair. Ryan was frustrated after several inconsistent seasons with the Mets and needed direction. Morgan was a no-nonsense type willing to put in the work with Ryan, whose problems stemmed from an erratic delivery. They quickly took to each other. Ryan would have good relationships with several other pitching coaches, most notably Jerry Walker at Houston, but Morgan turned his career around. "He had as much impact on my career as anyone," Ryan said. "He really took me on as a project." Morgan believed Ryan needed consistent work, which he did not receive with the Mets, to simplify his delivery and keep it intact. Morgan wanted Ryan to throw as much as possible between starts. The game could be rained out, but the two still would trudge out to the bullpen for a throwing session. It worked. Morgan was with the Angels for three seasons. Ryan won 62 games, including his first three no-hitters, in that span. He also led the American League in strikeouts three times and in innings pitched once under Morgan. "Getting with Tom and his approach made me understand what I had to do with my delivery," Ryan said. "He became a personal friend." Morgan and Angels manager Dick Williams parted ways after the 1974 season. Morgan continued as a pitching coach and was working with Atlanta minor leaguers at the time of his death in 1987. Future Cy Young winner Tom Glavine was among his students. Jimmie Reese once roomed with Babe Ruth when they played for the New York Yankees. Ruth called everyone "Kid" because he was terrible at remembering names. Reese called everyone "Donkey." It was his way of breaking the ice and making friends. It worked with Ryan. Reese, the always-upbeat coach, and Ryan, the struggling-for-confidence pitcher, joined California in 1972 and quickly became friends. Reese, considered the best fungo hitter of all time, made Ryan work by chasing fly balls. "He would bring you to your knees," Ryan said. Reese also taught Ryan about life and how to handle success and failure. "He became a father figure to me," said Ryan, whose father died in 1970 of lung cancer. "His outlook on life was great. Just being around him and seeing how well he treated people helped. He definitely had a big impact on my career." Reese was supposed to spend only one season with the Angels, but Ryan and several teammates interceded on his behalf. Reese remained for 22 seasons. Ryan named his second son, born in 1976, after Reese. When the Angels retired Ryan's uniform number in 1992, Reese still lamented the club's decision to let his favorite pitcher depart as a free agent after the 1979 season. "You have the opportunity to make a lot of mistakes in this game," Reese said before the ceremony, "but that one stands out more than most." Jimmie Reese died in 1994 at age 92. Friends said a last visit from Ryan carried Reese through his final days. By the standards of the day, Ryan was on the back side of his career when he joined Houston as a free agent for the 1980 season. Ryan was 33 and had two, maybe three more good years in him. Ryan pitched 14 more seasons, winning 157 games and pitching three no-hitters. He won two league ERA titles and four league strikeout crowns in that span. His 1,437 strikeouts after age 40 are more than 13 Hall of Famers had in their careers. That group includes Mordecai "Three-Finger" Brown (1,375), Dizzy Dean (1,163) and Joe "Iron Man" McGinnity (1,068). Genetics had something to do with the durability, Ryan said. So did the work he put into it. Moving to Houston brought Ryan into a whole new aspect of conditioning. The Astros, under strength coach Dr. Gene Coleman, had a specially designed program for pitchers that included weight work. It was the first time that Ryan had been introduced to weights as a conditioning tool, and he took to the program. "Gene was the Tom Morgan of working out for me," Ryan said. "I definitely benefited from Gene, because he was able to help me focus on conditioning and what I needed to do to stay on the mound." Ryan found another advocate of controlled weight work when he joined the Rangers for the 1989 season. He also found a workout partner in pitching coach Tom House. Because of age and experience, Ryan had more in common with House than most of his teammates. House gave Ryan the motivation he needed to get through daily five-hour workouts. "Tom House made it a whole lot nicer," Ryan said. "He was always there and kept me pumped up. Tom had an understanding of what was required for me at that age." The night after an epic battle with Philadelphia's Pete Rose, Ryan walked into the coffee shop of a New York hotel. The Houston Astros had bused from Philadelphia only to learn the strike of 1981 was about to begin. The Cincinnati Reds had stayed in New York rather than go to Montreal. When Ryan went for breakfast, he ran into former major league pitcher and Reds broadcaster Joe Nuxhall. They shared a table, and Ryan asked about the "circle" changeup that had made Reds pitchers Tom Seaver and Mario Soto so effective against left-handed hitters. Nuxhall demonstrated the grip and the application of the pitch, which goes down and away from left-handed hitters. Ryan worked on the pitch throughout the 51-day strike. When play resumed, he went 6-2 with a 1.80 ERA during the second half of the split season and pitched his fifth no-hitter. The "circle" change, given its name because the thumb and forefinger form a circle on a side of the ball, became as important to Ryan as his fastball and curveball. "That pitch made him what he was," former major leaguer Keith Hernandez said. All because he went into a hotel coffee shop at the right time. Even for Hall of Famers, life is a game of chance. |
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