The Son Also Rises : Damon Buford Dispels Notions of Nepotism With a Fluid Transition to the Outfield at USC

The Arizona State baseball fans, long recognized by opposing players as being doctoral candidates at the Attila the Hun School of Charm, were on 17-year-old Damon Buford now, on him like wrinkled, gray skin on an elephant. But through it all the young Buford, the starting left fielder for USC who was mired in the midst of a dismal 2-for-12 series, had to smile.

“ Damon Buford?” screeched one of the Sun Devil backers. “How come you’re still in the lineup?”

“Because my daddy is the coach,” came the roaring response from the first fan’s buddy.

Buford dug in at the plate and tried to concentrate on the pitcher, but the play in the stands had shifted to Act II.

“ Daddy, those guys are bothering me,” whined the fan in his best Damon Buford impression. “Make him stop, daddy.”

The banter continued every time Buford made an appearance at the plate during last week’s three-game set in Tempe, and he could not help but hear it.

In the dugout, Don Buford heard nothing. Ten years as a major league outfielder with the Chicago White Sox and Baltimore Orioles, four more as a Fukuoka Lion and Nankai Hawk in Japan and four more years as coach with the San Francisco Giants had taught him that most of the words coming from the stands are not at all pleasant, and he had long ago acquired the ability to turn off all sound emanating from the seats. Don Buford doesn’t even listen when E. F. Hutton talks, not if it’s during a USC baseball game.

And Buford, USC’s hitting instructor and outfield coach since 1985, puts an even sharper edge on his concentration when his youngest son is on the field. Which is, surprisingly, a lot of the time. Even though he came to USC last fall from Birmingham High with mighty credentials as an infielder, this season was expected to be one of watching and learning for Buford. Cracking the ball around at a .470 pace in the City Section is one thing. Doing it in the Pacific 10 Conference is something else.

Buford, however, has made a very nice transition. Heading into this weekend’s three-game series at USC against Arizona, he is batting .331 with 18 runs batted in and 10 doubles and he has started 35 of the team’s 42 games.

“I never expected this,” Buford said. “I came here with what I guess was the wrong idea. I came here just trying to make the traveling squad this year. I thought that was a big enough goal. But it turns out I could play at this level. And as my confidence grew and I got my chance, I grabbed it.”

Don Buford, who lives in Sherman Oaks but was able to see few of his son’s high school games because of his USC schedule, is as startled by Damon’s early success as anyone.

“I think we, as a staff, felt Damon was a player who would be beneficial to the team next year,” he said. “We felt he’d get some experience and learn from watching this year and be ready for next season. But he made progress right from the start and then he got his opportunity to play and he did very well. He earned this spot, but it definitely was a surprise.”

OK, but about this earning-his-spot business. Is Buford the real thing, or did those zany Arizona State fans have a point? The answer, it seems, is a simple one. You don’t have to know USC Coach Mike Gillespie long to understand that no one plays on his team because of who they are or who they know. You get the distinct impression that he wouldn’t at all mind giving the university chancellor’s son a jug of quarters and telling him to hang around an automated batting cage for a decade or so until he learned how to hit.

“Everyone here knows the situation,” said Don Buford, whose son, Don Jr., also played for him at USC. “There is no favoritism. Period. I’ve told Damon over and over that he must earn the job. If he does, he plays. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t play. Other players must not think that he got a starting spot because his dad is here. I’d be the first one to say that if he’s not doing well, let’s sit him down and try someone else. Mike Gillespie’s that way, too. He understands this as well as anyone. He knows I’d never put pressure on the head guy and say, ‘Let my kid play.”’

Indeed, anyone who would suggest that Damon is in the lineup because of his father has not paid attention this season. In addition to his batting skills, the swift Buford has stolen 13 bases in 19 attempts. And his defensive abilities are also first-rate.

Still, Buford often gets the feeling that people are whispering.

“I’ve been in a bit of a slump lately, and I think there are guys on the team wondering whether I should still be in there,” he said. “That ‘He’s the coach’s son’ stuff. It’s no problem when things are going good, but when things go bad I feel like people are pointing fingers. It’s nothing that’s out in the open, and most of my teammates are my good friends. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, but it’s a feeling I have, an attitude you think you see in some people.

“But I never talk to dad about it. I’ve never discussed being the coach’s kid with my dad.”

They do, however, discuss baseball. A lot. And it is the advantage of having a former major leaguer for a father that may account for Buford’s success.

“I was only 2 when he retired from the majors, and I remember a little bit from watching him play in Japan,” Buford said. “But I’ve seen a lot of tapes of him playing in his prime, with the Orioles. And when I see that I think, ‘I just want to be like him. I want to be where he’s been.’ I envy him a lot.”

Don Jr. played for the Trojans the past two seasons, alternating between second base and the outfield. He signed with the Orioles’ organization last year and became the MVP of the Class-A New York Penn League. He’s playing again this season in Class A, with Hagerstown, Md., just outside Baltimore. A switch hitter, Don Jr. has now made himself, in his father’s words, a “recognizable prospect.”

And Damon might be even better.

“If he puts forth his best effort and has a total desire to play major league baseball, he could do it,” Buford said. “He has the ability to make it. He’s talented and the instincts are there. If he plays here for three or four years I don’t think he’d be in the minors more than three years before getting his chance at the major leagues. He has that ability.

“It’s hard to compare Damon and Donnie because when Donnie was here with me he was 20 and 21 years old. Damon is 17. I have to recognize what I did with Donnie at age 21 is different from what I can do with Damon at age 17. At 21, I could be a little harder on Donnie, telling him how to do things and how hard he had to work at it. With Damon, I have to back off a little bit. I have to nurture him a little more. But maybe he has an edge on Donnie in development at this stage.”

All things considered, it appears that the Bufords have settled nicely into their father-son-coach relationship. All, of course, except that sticky little problem of how the player-son should get the attention of his coach-father on the field.

“I try to make jokes because I’m kind of confused by that,” Damon said. “I call him Coach Don and Coach Buford and once in a while even dad. And then other guys on the team start calling him dad as a joke. A few times, when I’m really in a good mood, I’ll call him what most of the other guys call him: Coach Bufe.

“But I guess most of the time I find myself walking across the field and right up to him before I start talking, just to avoid having to call him anything.”

Coach Bufe has no problem with any of this.

“Damon treats me like his coach when he has to, and treats me like his dad when he has to,” Buford said. “Mostly he calls me coach. A few times he calls me dad. Coach is OK. That’s my status on the team. I am his coach. I think it’s not clear to him what role to play or how to play it. But the key is for him to do what he feels is right.

“He can call me anything he wants. Within reason.”