Good Man Has Night of Greatness

Eddie Murray is a good man. He gives time to children and money to charity. He big-brothers his teammates and takes new ones under his Baltimore Oriole wing. As for his loved ones, he loves them dearly, which is why, in many ways, this has been the longest and saddest season of his life. There are occasions, like the one Monday at Anaheim, when Murray is mangling baseballs all over the lot and the world seems wonderful again. The guy got three home runs and racked up nine RBIs in five innings, in what Reggie Jackson of the Angels called “the best performance anyone’s seen in baseball the last 10 years.” It was positively Ruthian and Aaronian.

How many times in one’s lifetime does one hear the home team’s fans cheering when the visiting team’s slugger steps to the plate, then groaning when his would-be fourth home run is flagged down on the center-field warning track, or jeering when the home team’s pitcher walks the slugger instead of giving him one more opportunity to hit?

It happened at Anaheim, where Murray refused to reach out and swipe at any of Luis Sanchez’s lousy ninth-inning pitches. “I didn’t want to show anybody up,” he said.

After his third home run, Murray returned to the Oriole dugout, where he was greeted by Larry Sheets, a rookie outfielder.

“Nice month,” Sheets said.

Murray wasn’t certain he had heard him right.

“You just had one of my months in one night,” Sheets explained.

The Orioles, on a -record-setting homer pace, are almost certain to become the second team since 1965 to hit 200 balls downtown in a single season. Sometimes they sit on the bench and cup fists to their left ears, as if they were using a telephone. This is a signal that they are “calling” a home run, and it means they are expected to belt one next time up.

One night an Oriole even “called” one, Babe Ruth style, while standing at home plate, but is reluctant to admit it publicly because if he ever does it again, the pitcher is likely to stick a slider in his ear.

Eddie Murray, a good man, would never do such a thing, even though he can be as playful as the next guy. This is the same player who snips “Men, Are You Going Bald?” ads out of the paper and tapes them to Cal Ripken Jr.’s locker, or balls up a roll of tape and nails General Manager Hank Peters from behind, after which he shoots accusing glances around the clubhouse, trying to help Peters locate the culprit.

Murray enjoys being in a good mood, but it hasn’t been easy this season to remain in one.

It hasn’t helped that his team has loitered in fourth place, after having equipped itself during the winter to recapture the World Series glory won in 1983. The free-agent acquisitions of pitcher Don Aase and hitters Lee Lacy and Fred Lynn were supposed to put more 0’s on the opponents’ scoreboard and fewer 0’s on the O’s scoreboard. They have not.

Oh, the team still has pretty decent pitching, and scores tons of runs, and wins more often than it loses. But it is not the big, bad Baltimore club it used to be, even though Eddie Clarence Murray, a good man, a very good man, still treats a baseball the way a Veg-O-Matic treats a cabbage.

After Lacy left the Pittsburgh Pirates to sign with the Orioles, he spoke on the phone with Reggie Jackson, who told him: “You’re going to be playing with the best player in the game now.”

No offense intended, but Lacy knew that Reggie wasn’t referring to Lenn Sakata. In Murray, Lacy would be joining a man who, having just turned 29 in February, already had 227 career homers, four 100-plus RBI seasons and three Gold Gloves.

Murray also was a man who made himself available for counseling to young studs like Ripken and Mike Young, the same way men like Ripken’s dad, Cal Sr., and Lee May once did for him. When kids like Young and Floyd Rayford came to the club, Murray took them into his home, let them live with him for a while. He gave them guidance, as well as a sense of family.

Murray himself comes from a family of 12 children, including four brothers who all played professional ball. The Murrays were born and raised in Los Angeles, and for a series in California such as the one that began Monday, Eddie’s pass list has at least 30 names on it. His father, Charles, was among those in the park who enjoyed his three home runs.

Recent times have not been pleasant for the family, though. Eddie’s mother died last December, and one of his sisters died this spring of a heart illness. Another sister has been fighting a serious kidney ailment. Eddie missed five games during the week of his sister’s death and funeral, and these were the only innings he has missed in the last two seasons, except when Earl Weaver sent in a pinch-runner in Monday’s ninth inning, just so Murray could receive a standing ovation.

This was a considerate gesture for a considerate man. Eddie Murray does charity work in Baltimore on behalf of cerebral palsy, sickle cell anemia, the Red Cross, the United Way, the Johns Hopkins Children’s Center and the New Holiness Refuge Church. He also buys 50 box seats for every Oriole home game for underprivileged kids.

Recently, Murray donated $500,000 to Outward Bound camps, a combination summer camp and learning center for Maryland children. Charles Murray was there when Eddie’s contribution was formally announced.

“This is for you, Dad,” Eddie said.

Check with the children. That might have been the best thing anyone has done in baseball in the last 10 years.