After Passing Mantle, Reggie’s Taking Another Swing at .300

Reggie Jackson picks up his big black bat, the same model he used to bludgeon his way past Mickey Mantle on the all-time home run list.

“I’ll show you the old swing,” Reggie says.

He is standing in the Angels’ clubhouse. He takes his stance, stares at the imaginary pitcher, grimaces, cocks his home-run mechanism, and swings.

“WHOOOOOOSH!” says Reggie’s bat.

“Now here’s the new swing,” Reggie says.

He sets again, squints at the pitcher again, swings again.

“Whoosh!” says his bat.

“It’s crisper,” Reggie says, crisply. “It’s a little shorter. I’m not swinging as wildly. In order to hit home runs, you’ve gotta start that bat a little sooner. I’ve got more control now, a better eye.”

The difference in the old Reggie swing and his new swing is this: In the new swing, there’s no fury.

It’s one of the strangest developments of the baseball season. At age 40, beginning almost on the very day he blew out the 40 candles, Reggie Jackson, the mightiest swinger in modern baseball, has turned into a singles hitter.

He hit his last homer May 14, 39 games ago. That was homer No. 537, moving him past Mantle and into sixth place on the Big List. Jackson turned 40 four days later.

Even more weird, Reggie is hitting .304, exactly 40 points higher than his lifetime average. His batting is a significant reason the Angels are in first place in the AL West.

What’s the story?

The story is that Reggie Jackson feels like a marked man. He believes Angel management sees him as excess baggage, to be unloaded at the earliest convenience, like next November. They took him out of the outfield, made him a part-timer, and declined to extend his contract.

His pride stung, his value questioned, he is lashing out the only way he knows how. He is trying to bat the Angels into the World Series. That is the only way he can show them they are wrong. He is going to show them that Reggie Jackson can still make a difference, with his bat and his personality.

“In spring training, everybody wondered whether I could play anymore,” Jackson says. “That’s every body. Everybody around here wondered if I could play or not.

“I didn’t really have time to get my big swing in order. It takes time and you gotta have people ride along with you. They told me I was only going to DH against right-handed pitchers, and that means if you slump, you’re not going to play at all.

“During the off-season I worked on a stroke I’ve seen Jim Rice use a lot. I hit off a tee. I started to use it (the new swing) in spring training, make contact, drive the ball with my arms. I can still hit the ball out of the ballpark, but I don’t launch the ball, get it in the air. I hit it hard enough to be a home run, but I don’t get it up.

“I see a lot of balls I hit for base hits that I think I could put out of the park, but there’s nothing wrong with hitting .315. I really would like to hit .300. I’m gonna try to hit .300. You really get caught up in the idea of hitting .300. (Jackson hit .300 once, right on the nose, in 1980.) It’s really important, if you don’t have the RBI and home run production. If I stay with the crispness and put the ball in play with line drives, I think I’ll hit home runs in August and September. It takes awhile to adjust.

“We’re winning, and I’m a factor in the offense. I’ve got a hell of a lot more walks so far. There’s only one thing that matters, if you play the game professionally, and that’s ‘Do you help your team win games?’ Nothing else matters, unless you’re playing sandlot ball for a keg and trying to impress the pretty girls.

“Nothing else has any meaning to me at all. Some people criticize me, say I strike out too much, knock my fielding, say I was controversial, a clubhouse lawyer. Those comments never bothered me. To me--I won. Wherever I was. I was in six World Series and won five. That’s all that matters.”

And that’s all that matters this season. If the Angels win, and Reggie hits .300, that will be his contribution, his statement. He can leave Anaheim--as he is 90% sure he will be asked to do--with his head high. They can carve it on the stadium walls--”Reggie was here.”

And there he is, slashing and slapping at the ball, moving up runners, keeping rallies alive with singles and walks. Gene Mauch loves it, encourages it.

“I’m more than just a little content with the approach Reggie has taken,” Mauch says.

Still, it’s a strange sight--Reggie, the big stick, and little hits. For him, forgoing home runs must be like saying goodby to an old friend. Reggie and the big fly have been very good friends for many years.

“Some days he burns to hit home runs,” Gene Mauch says. “He just burns .”

Mauch’s words are relayed to Reggie.

“Yeah,” Reggie says, quietly. “He’s right.”