After All the Others Failed, He’s Finally Getting Garvey’s Job

If I were the Dodgers, I would have solved my first base problem years ago. I would have made my first baseman Mike Marshall and, so to speak, thrown away the key.

Of course, what do I know? I’m the guy who told movie producer Frank McCarthy years ago that he was crazy to make a movie about the life of Patton. I’m the guy who liked the Minnesota Vikings big in every Super Bowl they ever went to. I thought Arnold Palmer would never make it on tour with that swing. I kind of liked Harold Stassen’s chances for the Presidency.

To this day, the Chicago Tribune and I think of Thomas Dewey as our 46th President. I predicted that the 1969 New York Mets wouldn’t win a game in the World Series, and I bet that Secretariat would finish out of the money in the ’73 Derby.

But Mike Marshall was going to make me well, my good thing of the meeting. Bet the house. To me, Marshall was a 2-5 shot to be the best of the squadron of guys who auditioned for the Dodgers’ first base job after Steve Garvey left.

First of all, he seemed to find the curveball less a mystery than some of those other guys. Second, he could hit left-handed pitching. To be sure, since he was right-handed himself, this didn’t impress the Dodger management as much as it did me. On the other hand, they had a dugout full of guys who couldn’t hit left-handed pitching if their mother was throwing.

But best of all were his dimensions. Throwing to Mike Marshall over there on first was like throwing to the Empire State Building. You couldn’t miss him. His predecessor, Steve Garvey, made a career out of digging throws out of the dirt but part of that was because Steve was low to the dirt himself. His stature invited, not to say encouraged, low throws. Infielders were afraid to throw over his head.

You couldn’t throw over Marshall’s head. You couldn’t throw a ball under Garvey or over--or around--Marshall. If nothing else, his size-14 feet made it possible for him to take a throw in short right and still be standing on the bag.

If he had a fault, it was that he had too much strike zone. In fact, at 6 feet 5 inches and 220 pounds, he was almost all strike zone. It was hard to throw a non-strike to Mike Marshall. Mike was a Will Rogers hitter anyway. He never met a pitch he didn’t like. He walked less often than a guy whose feet hurt, only 18 times all last season in more than 400 times at bat.

He struck out a lot. He never put anybody in mind of Gene Kelly around first base--or anywhere else.

But Mike Marshall tried hard. He did whatever they wanted him to. He might have looked awkward, even ungainly. Sometimes, he caught the ball like a guy hanging drapes. But he got the job done. He was able to make a three-act adventure out of catching a fly ball. First, he had to surround it. But he always caught it. When he did, he had a strong arm and some speed.

Still, the Dodgers never did seem to figure out what to do with Mike Marshall. They schlepped him around the infield and outfield like a bargain rack of dresses. He had awesome power. You could light a city with the force of his swings. Third-basemen backed up when he came to bat. His first at-bat, he hit a home run. But it hit in the seats with such force that it bounced back onto the field and the ump thought it was a double.

He was almost too congenial. He batted .373 and .388--and .354 and .324--in the minor leagues. He led two of the three minor leagues he played for in batting average. In 1981, he led the Pacific Coast League in average, .377; runs, 114; home runs, 34, and runs batted in, 134. He hit .284 with 17 home runs his first full year in the big leagues.

But Mike Marshall never made waves. He walked around camp with his head down as if he came to fix the plumbing. Or coach third base. When the Dodgers suggested he go to the outfield, Marshall said, “Sure!” instead of, “I’ll have to check with my agent.”

Marshall even had a rationale for his almost over-modest behavior.

“You’ve got to remember when I first came up, Steve Garvey was still around and I couldn’t logically expect to take over from him,” he says. “If he re-signed with the Dodgers instead of going to the Padres in 1983, he would have been the first baseman all those years. It was advisable for me to learn a new position.”

But Garvey did not sign again with the Dodgers. And first base went to almost everyone else but Mike Marshall. At one time or another, Greg Brock, Sid Bream and Franklin Stubbs played first base. So did Danny Heep, Len Matuszek, R.J. Reynolds, Mickey Hatcher, Pedro Guerrero and a cast of thousands.

When Marshall said, “What about me?” they told him to shut up and go catch some fly balls. They asked him if he ever gave any thought to third base. He tried it but putting Mike Marshall on third base was like putting a moose on ice skates. His size-14 feet were perfect for first base, but on third, shifting his feet was like docking the USS Ticonderoga in a creek.

So, Marshall continued to slip and slide throughout the lineup. They traded away Brock and Bream but still they turned to Marshall and said, “Not now, kid.”

This year, the Dodgers suddenly had a surfeit of outfielders instead of first basemen. By now, they had a new rap against Marshall. Plagued by a bad back and hand and nerve injuries, he missed 58 games last season. They dredged up a new rap on him: He didn’t want to play! This for a guy who played out of position for 7 years.

Marshall, a non-fiery type, didn’t wax indignant enough. He didn’t summon a press conference or take out full-page ads or knock the manager or kick the cat. He just returned to the lineup when the plaster cast came off, played 25 of the last 27 games--and hit .294.

This year they’re trying something new with Marshall. Or, rather, something old. They’re trying him out at the position nature intended for him, first base. It’s about time, if you ask me.