At 39, He Still Isn’t Finished

In the winter of 1982, the Los Angeles Dodgers, who are not ordinarily given to that kind of thing, made what can only be construed as a major league blunder.

They had this perfectly marvelous player, an infielder, a kind of sawed-off power hitter who had socked out hundreds of extra-base hits, had played a key role in leading the club to four pennants and one World Series championship, and was sort of a symbol of the Dodger method and spirit, so much so that they considered him team captain. I mean, he had steady habits, showed up for team meetings, team buses and even ribbon cuttings and banquets.

So, they let him go with a shrug. They figured he was washed up.

Steve Garvey? Who said anything about Steve Garvey?

Ron Cey? We’re not talking Ron Cey, either.

We’re talking David Earl Lopes here, a guy who rapped out 1,204 hits as a Dodger, scored 759 runs, drove in 385 and hit 165 doubles, 39 triples and 99 home runs--and stole 418 bases.

Davey Lopes was so washed up, he’s only gotten 370 hits since he left the Dodgers, 51 of them doubles and 46 of them home runs. Oh, and he’s stolen 102 bases and scored 200 runs. If he’s too old, so is Tatum O’Neal.

Perhaps you noticed over the weekend where the Chicago Cubs, Davey Lopes’ employer of record at the moment, were taking a fearful kicking around from the L. A. Dodgers. Until Sunday, when they inserted the grand old man of baseball, Amos Alonzo Lopes, in the game--and all he did was hit a single, a double and a two-run homer, and steal a base. Not surprisingly, the Cubs won easily.

Davey Lopes may be the oldest man ever to be third in stolen bases in the league this late in the season. He is one of the few able to steal his age in bases this late in life, 39. He has 37 steals so far this year--in 39 attempts.

Lopes is, quite clearly, a remarkable geriatric specimen. The interesting thing is, his career stats could have been better. He was his own worst enemy as a base-stealer, quantitatively, not qualitatively. Lopes never stole a base for show. He never ran for the record books. He ran to win games, not postseason elections. He ran for a pennant, not a trophy.

It is a matter of record that when Lou Brock, the all-time base-stealing champion who went into the Hall of Fame this week, began to concentrate on his base-stealing, he virtually stopped swinging for the fences.

Lou’s home runs, for instance, dwindled from 21 in 1967 to none by 1978. His two-base hit production tumbled from a league-leading 46 in 1968 to a mere nine by 1978.

To be sure, Brock didn’t need a double to reach second base. A single would do. But it would also suffice for Lopes. And Lopes still tries to hit every pitch where they have to go find it. At the very height of his base-stealing prowess, he hit 28 home runs. The year he stole 77 bases, he hit 24 doubles.

Lopes stole bases almost as an afterthought.

“On the Dodgers, I was not always on my own in stealing,” he recalled. “The Dodgers didn’t have a sign telling me when to run, but they had a sign telling me when not to. And with a lineup that included Cey, Garvey, Dusty Baker and Reggie Smith, they were not asking you to run very often. One year, every one of those guys hit 30 or more home runs.

“I never stole a base when we were ahead 9-1 or 10-2 in the late innings. Those things could humiliate big leaguers and I never thought that was a smart thing to do.”

One benefit of that attitude was, Lopes cut down on the occupational disabilities of the wanton base-stealer, the strawberries on the hip, the locked knees and swollen ankles.

He also steals a base only when there is an 80% chance of success--as his 83% mark of successful steals attests. The major league record is 86% held by Montreal’s Tim Raines. Lopes’ percentage this year is 95. He once stole 38 bases in a row without being caught, a major league record.

The Dodgers made four World Series while Lopes played for them. They, haven’t made one since. Cey, Garvey, Baker and Smith were the power plant on those teams, but Lopes was the ignition.

His departure from the Dodgers was historic because it was the first, but also because it set a trend. Like most of the Dodger regulars, he had a no-trade contract. When he waived it--”I thought it was in my best interest. I could see they were burning to bring in those young kids to play and let me sit down,”--that same thought probably occurred to other sawed-off long-knocking infielders when their contract crunches occurred.

Did the Dodgers make their first mistake in cutting him loose?

Lopes grins as he is asked. “They probably don’t think so,” he says. “After all, I only had seven or eight good years left.”