South-Central L.A. Was Where It Began for Reds’ Eric Davis - But Now, the Sky’s the Limit

The playground on the corner of 68th Street and Denver Avenue is mostly deserted these days, another blight in an area where skeleton frames of cars line the streets and iron bars protect the windows of nearly every house.

By the looks of things, the playground hasn’t been used for a while. The basketball rims have been stripped from the weathered backboards, and the blacktop baseball diamond is kept in only fair repair. The only sign of grass might be a spare blade popping up through the cracked asphalt.

Most of the kids from this South-Central Los Angeles neighborhood now go to a park a few blocks away. There, the diamond has grass and a dirt infield, and all the baskets have rims and nets.

Urban renewel has greatly improved some facilities in this area, but it hasn’t done much to preserve the memory of Eric Davis’ favorite childhood hangout.

Try hard, though, and you can imagine a time about a dozen years ago when the 68th Street playground was both a popular sporting retreat for the neighborhood kids and a gathering place for gangs.

Davis and his gang of friends were interested only in sports. They would play baseball, basketball and football--sometimes all on the same day. They would slide on the cement and dunk on the eight-foot baskets, but only a few of the guys could hit a ball over the high chain-link fence and onto 70th Street.

You could field a pretty good team with the guys from the neighborhood and vicinity. They included Davis, Darryl Strawberry, Chris Brown and Reggie Montgomery, all of whom are now professional baseball players.

Jimmie Davis, Eric’s father and an occasional participant in those games, recalls that there was something special about those kids, even then.

“A lot of really good athletes have grown up in this area, but some just don’t get out,” Jimmie Davis said. “That playground was like a congregation of good and bad. That was one reason why I’d go down there all the time. You never hear nothing about a lot of kids. But I had a feeling little Eric and them would make it.”

Sure, that’s easy to say now. Strawberry had 27 home runs and 93 runs batted in last season for the World Series champion New York Mets. Brown hit .317, fifth-best in the National League, for the San Francisco Giants. Montgomery plays for the Angels’ Triple-A team in Edmonton. And Byron Scott, who played basketball with Davis in nearby Baldwin Hills, now has moved his game over to the Forum in Inglewood.

Davis has also made it to the big leagues. The question now is: How big will he be? Many in baseball believe that this formerly scrawny kid from the neighborhood someday could be better than Brown, Strawberry or any other player in the National League.

Last season, Davis’ first complete season as the Cincinnati Reds’ center fielder, he hit .277 and had 27 home runs, 71 RBIs and 80 stolen bases. Not bad, but hardly statistics that support lofty pretensions. It was what Davis showed during a sizzling summer--he hit .361 in June and .381 in July and combined for 23 home runs, 60 RBIs and 45 stolen bases in that period--that inspired Manager Pete Rose to compare him to some of the game’s greats.

“I wasn’t there when Willie Mays came up,” Rose says. “But I’ve been here 24 years and I can’t imagine that Willie Mays coming up had any more talent than Eric.”

And this from Houston Astros’ coach Matt Galante, a neutral observer: “He’s going to be one of the great ones. He’s so talented, and once he learns the strike zone, we’re all in trouble. Right now, I put him in my top three in (National League) MVP voting.”

Ever since the early days on the playground, Davis has wanted only to play the game and let others judge his performance.

“I’ve been hearing this since I first joined the Reds organization, that I’m going to be the next this or that,” Davis said. “It’s tough on a young player coming up. You show some positive things and everybody jumps on that and says you should be the next Willie Mays.

“I want to establish myself as the first Eric Davis, not the next Willie Mays.”

If you don’t yet know much about Eric Davis, would-be phenom, you are not alone.

His unexpectedly outstanding second-half performance last season made him the surprise of baseball. Scouts and teammates say that Davis, 6-foot-3 and 175 pounds, has the speed to steal bases whenever he wants, the power to justify batting fourth in the order and the range in the outfield to make extra-base hits extra difficult.

“Someday, the kid is going to hit 50 home runs and steal 120 bases in the same year,” Reds teammate Dave Parker said. “He isn’t missing any talent that I can see.”

Davis’ talent was born on the streets of South-Central L.A., nurtured at Fremont High School and developed further during four years of commuting between the Reds’ minor league teams and the big club.

Now that Davis, 24, is said to have a future so bright he needs to wear shades, he finds himself with the same pressures of great expectations that Strawberry, his childhood friend and rival, has been saddled with throughout his career. It seems Davis always has spent most of his young life tagging behind Strawberry’s lead. Davis and Strawberry first became rivals on the playground and in Little League in Baldwin Hills, and it continued when Davis went to Fremont High and Strawberry to Crenshaw.

Most of the time, Strawberry’s teams were better than Davis’, which meant that Strawberry received the recognition. Also, Strawberry’s ability always seemed to develop earlier.

Strawberry was one of the first in the neighborhood to hit one over the fence onto 70th Street. Davis, considerably smaller in those days, could never hit quite as far.

Years later, while a junior at Crenshaw, Strawberry hit a home run over the right-center-field fence at Dodger Stadium. Davis, too, banged the fences at Dodger Stadium, but it was during a tryout for high school prospects, the only spectators being a few scouts. Even though Davis averaged 27 points a game on Fremont’s basketball team, Strawberry and Crenshaw won the City title three years running.

Strawberry was the first player chosen in the 1980 major league draft. Davis was selected in the eighth round. And when Strawberry won the National League rookie of the year award in 1983, Davis was playing Triple-A ball in Indianapolis.

It seems that now, after all this time, Davis might be ready to pass Strawberry. Or, if Davis had his way, they would both live up to those expectations which, in Strawberry’s case, have gone mostly unfulfilled.

“Darryl talked to me about (the pressure) after he won the rookie of the year,” Davis said. “He said that (people) are going to expect you to do this and that, but he said don’t try to impress everyone because you’re never going to impress everyone. Just be satisfied with yourself.

“Me and Darryl always had a competitive rivalry. Every time we played against each other, we wanted each other to do good, but we still wanted to beat each other. That’s the same feeling we have now when we play each other.”

Like Strawberry, Davis bristles whenever it is suggested that his potential has yet to be fulfilled. But Davis knows that such talk is inevitable. And frankly, he, too, wonders how much better he will get.

Inconsistency has been the only major snag in Davis’ career. A chronic slow-starter, Davis bobbed up and down between the Reds and the minors in 1984 and ‘85, unable to stick in the majors. Both seasons, though, he exhibited glimpses of promise.

Last season did not begin well for Davis, who won a starting spot in the outfielder and originally was the Reds’ leadoff batter. After two months, he was hitting in the low .200s and not doing much on the base paths.

But the metamorphosis of Davis can be directly linked to Rose’s decision to switch him from leadoff to sixth in the order and, eventually, to cleanup. After last June 15, when the change took place, Davis cleaned up. In the Reds’ final 93 games, Davis hit .297, had 23 home runs, 60 RBIs and stole 63 bases.

Not surprisingly, Rose and Reds General Manager Bill Bergesch, say Davis will bat fourth this season. But they also aren’t expecting and will not tolerate another early-season slumber from Davis.

“When you are a young player and haven’t proven yourself, you can’t be a slow starter,” Bergesch said. “We can’t accept that out of Eric. Hopefully, that won’t happen again. Judging by the last half of the (1986) season, I’d have to say that nothing is holding him back. He should be able to continue to play like that.”

Davis looks at his past and future somewhat differently.

“The last two times I went to spring training, I had to win a job, and if I didn’t get off to a blazing start, I’m on the bench,” Davis said. “Now, I’ve proven myself, so it’s not essential that I get off to a real good start. . . . They haven’t had a lot of patience. I hope they don’t start panicking and say, ‘He’s not doing what he did at the end of last season.’

“I think (the Reds) feel the pressure more than I do, because of what they said and the things I’ve done in the past. They’re already talking about 40 home runs and 130 stolen bases (for 1987). Those are astronomical numbers. But, see, they believe it. I just try to do my own thing, get better every year.”

Answered Bergesch: “We’ve never put any marks or goals or anything for him to reach. There’s no reason for him to feel any pressure to produce (lofty statistics). We’d just like consistency.”

The Reds, it is presumed, will be satisfied if Davis can maintain last season’s second-half statistics over the entire 1987 season. That, of course, would equal about 40 home runs and 130 stolen bases.

“I don’t think anything is holding him back now,” Parker said. “Year by year, he’s going to get better. The kid definitely has the potential to be another Willie Mays. But he really reminds me of another Bobby Bonds, with that slender build and buggy whip of a swing.”

Comparisons just flow naturally when people are asked to talk about Davis. In a five-minute monologue one day last summer, Rose compared Davis to a trio of Willies--Mays, McCovey and Stargell. And Dick Hager, chief scout for the San Diego Padres, has compared Davis’ base-stealing prowess to yet another Willie, the Cardinals’ McGee.

Although he always is being compared to others, Davis’ style and talents are far from derivative. A firm believer that players spend too much time analyzing and scrutinizing their games, Davis says he just goes out and plays.

Just by looking at Davis, however, it’s hard to suppress a snicker when comparisons to the greats are mentioned.

Davis insists he weighs 175 pounds, but that has to be while carrying a lead bat. He has a 28-inch waist, a torso that is almost as small and legs that move as fast as those of a cartoon character. But here’s the giveaway of his deceptive power: The guy has forearms like Popeye’s.

His body may hide some Davis’ talents but, by now, most baseball people agree that it is there.

Power?

Ask Dennis Martinez, or the pitchers responsible for the other 26 home runs Davis hit last season.

One night last July in Montreal, Martinez felt pretty safe throwing a 3-and-2 fastball on the outside part of the plate, but Davis reached out and knocked it 425 feet over the right-field fence. From Parker’s vantage point, leading off from first base, it was as if the bat exploded in Davis’ hands.

“The longest home run I’ve ever seen was by Willie Stargell,” said Parker, recalling the home run vividly even months later. “But Eric’s was the longest I’ve seen to right field. The ball just kept going. Impressive, man.”

Davis smiles knowingly when it is suggested that he just doesn’t seem big enough to whack the ball off the walls. To explain, all you have to do is look at his forearms and wrists, the epicenter of his power.

For as long as Davis has played, he has shocked people with his long-ball potential. When he was a senior at Fremont High, the Dodgers invited Davis and other top prospects to Dodger Stadium for an informal tryout. Davis was a shortstop then, even skinnier than now.

“I remember picking up Ron Cey’s bat--it was the first time I had ever used a wood bat--and I was hitting balls off the wall in center and right-center and having a good time,” Davis says.

The secret to his power, Davis says, is bat speed rather than bulk.

“People always ask me how I can hit the ball so far, and I say, ‘I just swing.’ It’s the coaches who first told me I had good bat speed. I was just swinging, and I guess it was fast. I’m pretty fast at everything.”

Speed?

It has been jokingly suggested that Davis is so fast he slides only out of respect for baseball tradition. When he stole 50 bases in 15 games as a senior at Fremont, Davis swears he rarely slid into second base. Jimmie Davis laughs and says it wasn’t quite that easy for his son.

Last season, some big league pitchers developed nervous twitches trying to keep Davis in view. He was caught stealing only five times last season, but was picked off first base six times.

“You walk him, it’s a triple,” Reds coach Tony Perez said.

One game last season--he can’t remember the opponent--Davis said he dusted himself off after stealing second and took a normal lead. He looked back and saw the second baseman holding him on the bag, as a first baseman would.

“I looked back at that guy and he was just shaking his head,” said Davis, laughing. “I was thinking, ‘Have I brought a new dimension to the game, holding runners on second? Every time I get on first base, no matter what they do, they can’t throw me out.

“I’d rather steal bases than hit home runs because you can disrupt a team more ways. If you steal second, then third you got the catcher shook up and everybody (in the infield) worried.”

Said Hager, the scout: “He has every tool we look for. But in the past, he’s been a little immature and lacked experience. His quickness at the plate gives him power, and he’s probably a lot stronger than he looks. I know he has the quickest feet of anyone.

“It’s just a matter of how badly Eric Davis wants to play. If he puts out the effort, he can be a great player.”

Those in the neighborhood have no doubts about Davis’ desire and effort. As a kid, Davis was constantly at the playground or playing organized ball across town in Baldwin Hills.

“You could never keep Eric away from either basketball or baseball,” said O.J. Knighten, Davis’ Little League baseball coach. “You know, he lived in a pretty tough area, so I’d go pick him up and take him to games.

“My philosophy is that the easier (conditions) are for kids, they less they want it. If you make nice fields and stuff readily available, they start expecting it. Eric was one of the most dedicated kids I’ve had in 13 years of coaching.”

Life was never easy for the Davis family, but not unusually difficult either.

Eric grew up in a mustard color apartment building on Denver Avenue. Both the front door and the windows have metal bars attached for protection from burglars. Jimmie Davis, who works for Boys Market, always provided for Eric, older son Jim Jr. and daughter Sharletha.

It is a fact of life in South-Central Los Angeles that, sooner or later, kids will be exposed to drugs and gangs. Davis, however, says sports made him immune to those pressures.

“If it wasn’t for sports, I would have been just another guy on the streets, doing drugs, robbing people,” Davis said. “It’s easy for you to fall into that. You always had people coming up to you offering drugs.

“A lot of guys in my situation, it didn’t turn out the same way for them. They got caught up in that life and it cost them a career. There’s a lot of great athletes in L.A. you never hear of. They never made it out.”

According to Jimmie, his oldest son, Jim Jr., apparently gave in to the pressures.

“I’m just sorry my oldest son didn’t turn out more like Eric,” Jimmie says. “My oldest, he’s a good kid. He is. But he didn’t have the athletic ability Eric has. I don’t know where he is. Probably in trouble somewhere. He lives here, there, everywhere. But he’s still my son and I love him.”

Jimmie said he always did as much as he could to protect his boys from the bad element. “That’s why I went with them to the playground all the time,” he said. “To try to protect them.”

One day, Jimmie recalled, someone started shooting at the playground. He didn’t mean shooting baskets, either.

“Here I was, there to protect Eric, but the shooting was so close I panicked, too. All I could say was just, ‘Eric, hit the dirt.’ We all ran behind the school. That’s the kind of area it is. It’s a blessing he got out without getting hurt.”

Most days didn’t hold that much excitement or violence. But there was one time when Eric and the rest of the family almost were victims.

Said Jimmie: “When Eric was in high school, we had a guy who’d come around here, always hyped up (on PCP) and do weird stuff. One day, he got high on that stuff and took off all his clothes and ran down the street kicking windshields out (of cars) with his bare feet.

“Then, this other day, I was watching TV. Eric was in his room. Jim left the house and went out to the playground. After a while, I hear some kids running up to our place and going into Eric’s room. I saw Eric get up and leave in a hurry. But I thought Eric was just getting into a basketball game.

“But it turned out this guy was terrorizing the playground. He was messin’ with Jim Jr. Eric just went out there and punched him, but the guy didn’t even feel it because he was so hyped up. Then, this guy gets in the car and tries to run over Eric. He’s driving on the sidewalk. . . . By that time, I come running out and got Eric and brought him into the yard. Then, I ran back and got something to protect myself with. I was going to waste the guy (shoot him), but I was talked out of it. Then, I call the police and they come and picked him up.”

The potential for violence never stopped Eric or his friends from going to the playground. Eric’s favorite sport then was basketball. Still is.

The only sports idol Davis had as a child was Walt Frazier, the former New York Knicks star known for his cool on and off the court. Davis says he turned down basketball and baseball scholarship offers from Arizona State and Pepperdine to sign with the Reds.

“I didn’t really take baseball that seriously at Fremont, at first,” said Davis, who hit .531 as a senior. “I was really into basketball. It would be the only thing I’d play in the summer when I was a kid.

“Darryl and I’d play a lot. And me and Byron were on the same Little League team. I was a guard, like he was. I guess the first time I took baseball seriously was when the scouts started paying attention to me. Darryl (at Crenshaw) always had more scouts watching him. There weren’t too many scouts who would come down to Fremont looking for talent.”

When it is suggested that Davis might be playing in the NBA, instead of the major leagues, he doesn’t laugh. He says he was quite a good point guard. Jimmie Davis has a photograph of 12-year-old Eric holding two trophies and standing next to Marques Johnson after being named most valuable player of a youth basketball league. “They called him the franchise,” Jimmie said.

By the time Davis entered the 10th grade, a few schools from the San Fernando Valley tried to lure him out of South-Central Los Angeles. The plan was to bus him there every morning, and the promise was of better schools and more exposure in basketball and baseball.

Davis’ teachers at Fremont encouraged him to leave, so did his father. But Eric stayed at Fremont.

“We never had to worry about Eric,” said Knighten, still a close friend of the family. “He was independent of a lot of things going on there. He’s not a follower. Gang members have a certain respect for athletes, so they basically left Eric alone.

“I think Eric really liked living (in the old neighborhood). I mean, you can’t keep him away from there now. I once said to Eric, ‘If you ever forget where you come from, I’ll cut off your arm and leg, so you’ll remember.’ ”

Next Willie Mays or no, there seems little chance that Davis will forget where he came from on his way to where he’s going.

Although Davis now finally is a Valley guy--he lives in a split-level house in Woodland Hills with girlfriend Sherry Brewer and Erica, the couple’s 1-year-old daughter--he spends much of the off-season back in the old neighborhood.

On the other hand, though, Davis has seen a better life and says he wouldn’t want his child to grow up in the ghetto.

“I recognize where I come from, and I don’t want to go back there to live,” Davis said. “That’s what keeps me going forward. Anything I accomplish it’s because I don’t want to go back to that childhood. A lot of guys I know could’ve made something out of themselves, but they never are given the chance.”

Davis, who made $90,000 last season and has not served in the majors long enough to file for arbitration, has not saved enough to move his father and his family out of South-Central L.A. Jimmie Davis says he has never asked Eric for help, but he would like to move.

“I’ve lived here nearly 30 years but, yeah, I want to move. Sure, I’d accept it. It’s gotten even worse (in the neighborhood) now than when Eric grew up. But as long as I have my health and strength, I’ll be OK anywhere.”

If the Davis family ever moves out of the apartment on Denver Avenue, there will be no more reminders that a special athlete grew up there. It will be just another neighborhood in South-Central L.A.