Orioles Make Pitch for an ’87 Comeback

Not too many years ago, this kind of day might have bored the proud Baltimore Orioles’ pitching staff.

A day when their manager walks them through a half-dozen basic drills. A day when he interrupts them several times because he thinks their bodies are present, but not their minds. A day when they are reminded about the importance of throwing first strikes and backing up third base and holding runners close at first.

For 17 years, such things were automatic for what Detroit Manager Sparky Anderson once called “the graduate school of pitching.”

From 1968 through 1984, the Orioles did all of the little things and most of the big ones, producing an astounding 23 20-game winners and four Cy Young Awards. And mostly because of names like Jim Palmer, Dave McNally and Mike Cuellar, they also won more often than anyone else.

They were, as pitcher Scott McGregor said, “proud and cocky. We’d sometimes throw the ball down the middle of the plate and say, ‘Here it is, give it your best shot.’ ”

Some of them, particularly McGregor and Steve Stone, could barely break a window. Instead, they changed speeds, worked fast and threw strikes. They wore T-shirts that said exactly that, and if they knew their own limitations, they came to know their opponents’ limitations almost as well.

Of all the things that have gone wrong with the Orioles the last two seasons, explaining what happened to the heart of their once-great starting rotation--McGregor, Mike Flanagan and Mike Boddicker--is easily the hardest. They anchored a rotation that averaged 41 complete games a season in 1982, 1983 and 1984 and one that has a total of 49 since. From a 3.71 earned run average in 1984 to 4.38 in 1985. From 13 shutouts in 1984 to 12 in ’85 and ’86 combined.

The Orioles say reasons for the decline are complex: Flanagan got hurt; Boddicker got unlucky; McGregor lost his confidence; the defense went bad. They do not know if their problems are, as the pitchers say, over, or if one spring of drills under new Manager Cal Ripken Sr. is the answer. They do know that if the problems aren’t solved, the Orioles’ 1987 season is not going to be any better than the last two.

McGregor realizes that if one person had to shoulder the blame, it would be he. He also knows what the people who run the Orioles have been saying--that he no longer cares and that he got lazy after signing a four-year, $4 million contract in 1985. They wonder why his ERA was 3.63 before the contract, 4.67 since.

McGregor and General Manager Hank Peters have had a couple of tense meetings the last few months, one of them coming last summer when McGregor was told: You seem to care more about doing church work than pitching; don’t forget who pays your bills.

He reached the low point of his 10-year career last summer when he was sent to the bullpen with an 8-11 record and 4.77 ERA. Today, McGregor says that demotion may have saved his career and is the reason he believes he’ll win again in ’87.

“I had nothing to do but watch others pitch, so I started seeing what had happened,” he said. “One day it hit me. It seemed like we were going 3-and-0, 3-and-1 on every hitter, and I was thinking, ‘That’s not the way we pitch.’ Then it hit me. That’s exactly what I’d been doing. When I got a chance to pitch again, I threw strikes. All of a sudden I got life back in my change-up and was in front of the hitters.”

He says it’s important to remember that he’s only 33 and should have four or five good years left. Each night, the Orioles say little prayers for him because, if he pitches the way he did in the early 1980s, the Orioles will be a long way toward getting back in a pennant race.

The McGregor they dream about is the one who finished the ’83 World Series with an efficient five-hit shutout of the Philadelphia Phillies. He threw fastballs, curveballs and changeups, no two of them the same speed. Hitters lunged. They stayed back and waited too long.

The Orioles see a pitcher who, even after back-to-back bad seasons, has 105 victories this decade, more than any A.L. pitcher except Detroit’s Jack Morris (123).

Removed from the emotion of his run-ins with Peters and Manager Earl Weaver last summer, McGregor says he can trace his problems to February 1985, the month he was given a $4 million extension to his contract. He says all the dynamics of his career changed after that contract. For eight years, he had been a good pitcher on a good team. All of a sudden, he was supposed to be a superstar.

“I didn’t like some of the things Hank said,” McGregor said. “In my mind, I’d always worked hard, but I think after we won the World Series (in 1983), I got caught up in what I was supposed to be instead of what I was. Hey, I read the articles about me. I was supposed to be the smartest pitcher in baseball, and I tried to live up to that. The game became not just winning, but trying to live up to what other people thought I should be.

“Then came the money. I was trying to justify all that money, but let’s be honest. You can’t justify making $50,000 doing this for a living, much less $1 million. But I felt I had to show everyone I was worth that kind of money when what had always worked was going out and being a kid, going out and doing what I’d done since I was 8 years old.

“I don’t think I did any more work in my church than I ever did, but I see Hank’s point . . . I know I’m going into the ministry someday, but for now, playing baseball is what I want to do.”

When he returned from the bullpen, he certainly showed signs of being the McGregor of old. Throwing strikes and staying in front of hitters, he had a 3.90 ERA the rest of the season and had the team’s only two complete-game shutouts.

For all practical purposes, Boddicker’s season should have ended April 19, when he tore a ligament in his right middle finger. He was on the disabled list 21 days and returned against the advice of doctors.

They told him the only way to completely recover was to spend eight weeks with the finger in a cast and another eight to 10 in rehabilitation.

“That would have meant the season,” Boddicker said, “and I wasn’t willing to do that.”

For almost four months, it looked as if he’d made the right decision. He started 10-1, and on Aug. 4, he was 14-5 and seemed headed for his second 20-win season in three years.

Then just as the Orioles started a second tour around the league, his luck ran out. Hitters figured out that he had no changeup and not much of a curveball, only a fastball and a forkball. When he couldn’t throw the forkball for a strike, they could wait on the fastball down the middle.

After beating Toronto on Aug. 4, he finished 0-7 with a 6.61 ERA.

“The finger was the biggest thing, but not the only thing,” he said. “When I hurt my knee in 1985, I developed some bad habits. I wasn’t able to follow through, and that’s what we worked on this summer. I didn’t even throw that much. I wanted to get back to doing things right. Now, I can feel the real good action back on my curveball. I feel better than I have at any time in the last two years, but like a lot of guys in here, I’ve got to go out and do it. Anyone can talk about it.”

When the Orioles talk about 1987 comebacks, they don’t talk about Flanagan. Last season, after suffering a ruptured Achilles’ tendon in 1985, he pitched some of the best baseball of his career.

He threw 90-m.p.h. fastballs for the first time ever, and he again had his best curveball. In fact, he did almost everything asked of him except win. He won only one game the first half of the season and finished at 7-11, despite the staff’s second-best ERA (4.24). Not that he’s accustomed to anything else. If there’s going to be a tragic figure associated with the Orioles this decade, it may very well be Flanagan.

The Orioles scored three or fewer runs in 14 of his 28 starts last season. In his last 70 starts, he has gotten three or fewer runs 34 times.

So he returns to Miami Stadium this spring with little to prove and much to gain. He’s working on a forkball similar to the one National League Cy Young winner Mike Scott threw last season.

“I pitched as well as I have in a long time,” he said. “What’s so disappointing is that the record wasn’t any better. You can be philosophical about it now, but winning has always been the norm here. You don’t want to accept any less. I tend to be an optimist, and I guess that’s why I’m so encouraged now.

“They seem to be getting back to doing things we used to do. We go through every drill methodically. We don’t take anything for granted. This franchise was built on defense first. As pitchers, we always complained about not having enough runs, but that meant we took the defense for granted.”

So even after two bad years, the South Florida sunshine and fresh starts have brought out the optimist in all of them.

The Orioles hope it’s that simple, because if McGregor, Boddicker and Flanagan have good years, the pressure on youngsters Ken Dixon and Eric Bell will be minimal. Also, if they have good years, almost everyone in the organization believes the Orioles will be back in contention.

“People say Earl Weaver was hard-headed for believing in these guys,” Ripken said. “Well, I must be more hard-headed than Earl because, even after last season, I still believe in them.”