There are a few things that separate me from a professional athlete: innate ability, hand-eye coordination, a desire to practice and hone a skill, a killer instinct, the ability to always want to win. But another thing is that when I played sports and I screw up, with a strike out, missing a free throw, clanging a ball off the cross bar, I'd let it fester and bother me. And that would compound the error because inevitably, I'd think so much about the last miscue, that I'd make another. I couldn't get over things easily when I was competing.
Sports isn't about perfection because no one can be perfect all the time. All athletes who compete at a high level understand this. So when they screw up, the acknowledge it and move on. Some guys get the yips, but it's rare. Perseverance and a short memory is the key in athletics. The quicker you understand that, the better you'll do.
No one understands that more than Dennis Eckersley.
If you were to sit down and have a few drinks (actually, how about a few club sodas) with an ex-major leaguer, I don't think that you could do better if you were swapping stories with Dennis Eckersley. The dude has lived many lives and the fact that he seems like a genuinely good guy without much bitterness is pretty amazing.
His life had more twists than a bag of spicy curly fries.
Eckersley grew up with Rick Manning. They played on the same high school baseball team, got selected by the Cleveland Indians in the same draft and were on the same minor league team together. They were inseparable, as was Eck's girlfriend, turned fiancé, turned wife. They climbed the ladder of the Cleveland organization together and by the mid-70s were the best pitching and hitting prospects the Indians had.
Eckersely was brash, arrogant and loud. He had a fastball that was explosive and an attitude that matched. Which was fine for Cleveland because they hadn't had anything to cheer for in years. Eckersley and Manning were going to lead the Indians into 1980s domination. A funny thing happened on the way to multiple World Series, Manning developed feelings for his best friend's wife. And she reciprocated. Next thing you know, Eckersley is on the outside looking in as Manning has a new wife.
Fearing that this would destroy the clubhouse, the Indians had a choice to make: trade the stud centerfielder or the stud pitcher. They sent Eckersley to the Boston Red Sox for a handful of prospects, none of whom ever did much for the Tribe. Catcher Bo Diaz played well for the Phillies and Reds--he was an All-Star selection--but wasn't great in Cleveland.
Eckersley immediately dominated as a Red Sox and the fans loved him. As the 70s turned into the 80s, Eck began to lose his edge. No one was really sure why, but that fastball that blew everyone away became really flat and hittable. Turns out, Eckersley had developed a taste for the sauce and was out partying every night and not really taking care of himself. So Boston shipped him to the absolute worst place you can send an alcoholic to: Chicago, specifically the Cubs for Bill Buckner.
Everyone loves Wrigley Field, especially before they added lights in 1988. Every home game is a day game, which means you have your nights free to do what you want. And that's precisely what tripped Eck up. He was a major league baseball player living it up in a place where he could drink all night and deal with the consequences in the morning. He stayed a few seasons in Chicago before the Cubs got sick of putting up with his stuff and released him.
Eckersley was in danger of getting drummed out of baseball if he didn't control his drinking problem. There was one team that offered him a job: the Oakland Athletics. Manager Tony LaRussa said that Eckersley would be a part of the bullpen (he was a starter for his entire career) and if he wanted more than that, he'd have to earn it. Thus began one of the biggest comebacks in baseball history.
Eckersley didn't just earn his spot in the Oakland bullpen, he flat-out dominated. Year after year after year, his ERA was ridiculously low, his WHIP lower than that and his save percentage was higher than anyone's had ever been. Ever since he stopped hitting the sauce, he got his swagger, and more importantly, his fastball back. He was pointing to people and yelling at them when he struck them out like he did when he was young buck. Apparently when he was with the Indians, Eckersley was in the midst of throwing his first no-hitter and with one down in the ninth, started yelling at what would be the last hitter of the night (he was on deck), saying that he wanted no part of him, that he sucked and that he was going to strike out. That batter did.
From 1987 through 1992, Eckersley's ERA was never above 3.00 and in 1990, it was a ridiculous 0.61. The pinnacle of Eck's career was 1992 when he won the American League Cy Young and MVP award. From 1981 through 1992, relievers Eck, Rollie Fingers and Willie Hernandez each won the MVP and Cy Young awards in the same year, while Steve Bedrosian and Mark Davis won the NL Cy Young awards. Since Eck's double-dip, only one reliever, Eric Gagne in 2003 has won either award in either league. Which says something. I'm not sure whether writers in the 80s and early 90s were blown away by relievers and that writers now don't care, but there seemingly was a market correction.
It wasn't all good times in Oakland, as Eck gave up one of the most famous homers in postseason history in Game One of the 1988 World Series to Kirk Gibson. And he didn't shy away from the goat horns either, he answered question after question after question after that game, during the winter of his discontent and 30 years later with grace and aplomb. If there was a time for a man to turn to drink, that would have been it, but Eck stood resolute. In 1989 he recorded the final out of the 1989 World Series, though he was uncharacteristically shaky in the 1990 World Series loss to the Cincinnati Reds.
Eck stayed with the A's through the 1994 season before joining his former A's boss in St. Louis. He pitched for a few years there before coming home to Boston for his last season.
Eckersley was elected into the Hall of Fame in his first ballot and has continued to be a popular broadcaster on Red Sox telecasts, while also doing work for his home-town Oakland Athletics.
When you're kicking ass, life is easy to handle. But when the tables are turned and life starts handing you a beat down, whether it's your best friend stealing your wife, drinking too much or giving up a game-losing home run to a broken down gimp who was waiting for your backdoor slide, that's when people can see what you're made of.
Eckersley is a tough dude, amigos.
