The news that Jim Fregosi died today brought sadness.
He was one of the franchise’s first stars, a catalyst in the 1970 chase for the American League West championship. He got the franchise that banner nearly a decade later, when he managed the Angels to their first division title.
Death is personal, and this one was hard for me.
We weren’t close. I enjoyed the handful of times I interviewed him, but I couldn't say we had any sort of relationship, at least from his perspective.
But Jim Fregosi made me a sportswriter.
I’m not sure he would be proud of this.
The transformation was completed the day in 1978 when I walked into the team’s clubhouse and approached him.
“And what the [expletive] do you want?” Fregosi asked me.
I grew up an Angels fan ... a big one. I inherited the love for the game from my father. And if you were an Angels fan pre-Nolan Ryan, who else would you gravitate toward but Fregosi?
Who else did we have for so many years? He was there, year-in and year-out.
The summer of 1970, when I was 12, was a great one for Angels fans. Alex Johnson was chasing the batting title. Clyde Wright threw a no-hitter and went on to win 22 games. The team was 3½ games behind first-place Minnesota on Sept. 3.
Fregosi was the glue. He seemed tough. Low-grade-beef tough.
Sure, the Angels went on a nine-game losing streak and faded. It gave me a reference point when writing about future Angels collapses in 1982, 1986, 1995.
There were more lessons.
The 1979 title was a watershed moment, but 1978 was vintage Fregosi as a manager. A late-season series in Texas brought complaints about the heat. So Fregosi wore his jacket during every game. Later, I understood manager mind games and motivation techniques better because of this.
The defining moment came earlier in that 1978 season. I was working for a small paper in South Orange County and was sent to do a story on pitcher Dave LaRoche, who lived in our circulation area.
It was my first visit to a big league clubhouse. I saw Fregosi talking to a couple of other writers and bounced over.
He paused, looked at me and said those words: “And what the [expletive] do you want?”
I still hear them, and smile.
He was helpful with the story, but I walked away knowing this job was no place for a fan.
Years later, I was sent to do a feature on Fregosi, then the Philadelphia Phillies manager. I shared that story with him. He laughed, and said, “Your answer should have been, ‘I’m here to talk with you [expletive].' ”
Jim never stopped teaching me to be a sportswriter.
I’ll miss that.