A Shooting Star : Much as Rookie J.T. Snow Has Done, Jackie Warner Wowed Fans, Foes as an Angel in 1966; But Warner Found How Fleeting Fame Can Be

J.T. Snow wouldn’t know Jackie Warner from Little Jack Horner, but if the Angel first baseman ever met the High Desert truck driver, he might think a parallel universe was at work here.

As a 23-year-old Angel rookie in 1966, Warner tore up the American League in his first 15 games, batting .345 with five home runs, 13 runs batted in and 14 scored.

As a 25-year-old Angel rookie in 1993, Snow tore up the American League in his first 15 games, batting .407 with six home runs, 17 RBIs and 16 runs scored.

Warner, a Southern California high school standout, then cooled considerably, going 0 for 17.

Snow, a Southern California high school standout, cooled considerably, going one for 17.

Snow’s fondest wish should be that the parallels end there.

Warner, helping the Angels mark their first season in Anaheim Stadium with a series of late-game heroics, hit three game-winning home runs in the Angels’ first 10 games, then added two more homers in the first week of May. He was among league leaders in homers and RBIs and ranked seventh in batting, in company with such notables as Frank Robinson, Tony Oliva and Carl Yastrzemski.

But an early May hand injury that was more serious than anyone believed drastically curtailed his production. By July of 1966, Warner was in the minor leagues, where he

bounced around for four years. By 1970, he was out of baseball.

“He burst on the horizon, then he was gone,” said Bill Rigney, Angel manager in 1966. “He didn’t look like a flash in the pan because he had a solid swing and was a good outfielder. It looked like this was going to be his life, then it just fizzled.”

Athough his job as a big-rig driver often takes him past Anaheim Stadium, Jackie Warner has not gone to an Angel game in years.

“I stayed away for a long time because of the hurt,” Warner, 49, said. “It’s still hard to look back and think what could have been.”

Warner, who lives in Apple Valley, had heard through friends at work that the Angels were off to a good start. But having not followed the team, he didn’t know who J.T. Snow was until a reporter told him of Snow’s hot start and subsequent slump.

Warner could certainly empathize with the Angel rookie, though.

“I wish I had a chance to talk to J.T.,” Warner said. “I would tell him to stay in good shape, get proper rest and keep his eyes and heart focused on his goal.

“Getting out of a slump is a matter of taking a deep breath, saying, ‘Hey, I did it before, I can do it again.’ Just relax, see the ball and don’t let the pressure within get to you.”

It got to Warner, but good.

Pressures away from the game didn’t help. Married, divorced and paying child support by 19, Warner sought refuge in bars.

“I was my own worst enemy,” Warner said. “I was young, immature and I never learned to relax. If I had a bad day, it was like the end of the world. Two or three strikeouts drove me crazy.”

So did injuries.

They began at Arroyo High in El Monte, where Warner had knee surgery as a sophomore and a groin pull as a junior.

The pitcher-outfielder was injury-free as a senior, when he went 15-2 and was named CIF Southern Section co-player of the year with Bob Bailey, who also went on to play in the major leagues.

Warner struck out 24 San Gabriel High batters in 11 innings.

“They took me out and we lost, 1-0,” he recalled.

Warner signed with the Angels in 1961 for an $18,500 bonus and had three solid minor league seasons.

He appeared to have the big league team made with a strong spring in 1965, but he pulled a hamstring in late March and was sent to triple-A Seattle.

After a slow start there, Warner was demoted to double-A El Paso, but a double hernia operation forced him to miss the second half of the season.

Another good spring in 1966 had Rigney projecting Warner as the Angels’ starting right fielder. Then, while robbing Cleveland’s Leon Wagner of a home run with a leaping grab in an exhibition, Warner caught his left hand on top of the chain link fence in Palm Springs, opening a gash that required nine stitches and 10 days to heal.

“I thought, ‘Here we go again,’ ” Warner said. “It looked like things were going bad.”

They got better quickly, though. The hand healed, and Warner’s April made him an instant rookie-of-the-year candidate.

“That first month, he showed he had all the things to be a good major league player,” said Rigney, now an assistant to General Manager Sandy Alderson of the Oakland Athletics. “I thought he’d be around for a while.”

April, 1966: Local Boy Does Great--and Then Some.

Because fellow Angel rookie Rick Reichardt grabbed part of the spotlight with a good start in 1966, and because baseball wasn’t quite the multimedia spectacle it is today, Warner’s feats didn’t create a national furor, as did Wally Joyner’s 1986 Wally World or the J.T. Snow storm of ’93.

But Warner did grab his share of headlines and create his share of excitement around the new Anaheim Stadium.

“I remember a game Walt Disney was at, and he brought all the Disneyland characters over to perform before the game,” Rigney said. “It was a wonderful show, and I asked Walt in the dugout, ‘How are we going to compete with this?’

“We were playing the Twins, and in the eighth inning, Jackie hit a two-run homer to win it, 4-3. Later that night at Disneyland, Walt said to me, ‘I knew you’d think of something.’ ”

The Fantasyland ride didn’t last long, though. At Washington in early May, Warner was fooled by pitcher Pete Richert’s hard inside slider. Warner, trying to adjust his swing at the last moment, heard a pop.

It was the ligament between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand tearing.

“The next day I couldn’t button my shirt,” Warner said. “It hurt to squeeze. To swing the bat was an excruciating thing.”

Warner tried to play hurt, simply taking cortisone shots.

“I knew I needed rest, but I was off to such a good start and it was such a good opportunity, I wanted to play,” he said.

Not realizing the extent of the injury, Rigney kept him in the lineup. But by the end of May, it was obvious that Warner needed a break, so Rigney sat him down.

Warner returned in early July, hitting a home run off Mickey Lolich at Detroit and beating Dave McNally with a two-run homer at Baltimore.

But he was still striking out a lot, and the Angels eventually sent him back to triple-A Seattle. His major league season totals: .211 average, seven homers, 16 RBIs, 22 runs scored, 55 strikeouts.

“His swing wasn’t the same after the injury,” Rigney said. “They started curving him more, and he pressed a bit. It looked like one of those injuries that would take a few days to heal, then he’d be back. It didn’t work out that way.”

With a $7,000 baseball salary and a former wife and son to support, Warner spent the off-season loading 100-pound bags of flour onto box cars. It helped pay the bills, but didn’t help his hand heal.

In the spring of 1967, the Angels loaned Warner to the Mets’ triple-A team at Jacksonville, where he was ineffective. The Mets sent him to Boston’s farm team at Toronto, but Warner had had enough. He left for home.

On the way back to Southern California, Warner was traded to Oakland.

“They didn’t know I had a bad hand,” Warner said.

He was assigned to triple-A Vancouver, but it didn’t take long for the organization to realize it had been sent damaged goods. Oakland sent him to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., where Warner learned that the ligament between his thumb and forefinger was nearly severed.

Warner missed most of the 1967 season, but returned in 1968 and hit .240 with 16 homers for double-A Birmingham, despite playing with a strained shoulder muscle and torn kneecap.

The Astros picked Warner up in 1969, and he showed a brief glimpse of greatness, hitting six homers in a two-week span at triple-A Oklahoma City. But a badly pulled groin muscle ended any hopes for a major league comeback.

The groin was still bothering Warner at double-A Tulsa in 1970. Then it finally sank in: He wasn’t going anywhere. He asked for his release.

But soon after Warner got home, former Angel farm director Roland Hemond offered him a job in the Mexican League. Warner tried, but suffered an elbow injury that required surgery.

“I left tired, discouraged and frustrated by all the injuries,” Warner said. “It was like every time I turned around, someone was smacking me in the face. That was it. I came home and started driving a truck.”

Warner laughs at the irony of his baseball career. As a child, he had considered football his best sport, and the coaches at Arroyo High wanted him to play quarterback.

“But my dad wouldn’t let me play football,” Warner said, “because he thought I might get hurt.”

Jackie Warner still hurts. Knowing he had the talent and didn’t make it gnaws at him.

“I did the best I could under the circumstances, but it was hard dealing with the injuries, financial problems, child support,” he said. “I wish I was less injury prone and more mature. I wish I had it all together back then.”

He seems to now. There is happiness in his life since he married Nancy Auricchio, a former classmate at Arroyo High. They met again at their 30-year reunion in 1991. Both had been divorced. Both were now Christians. They were married three weeks later.

But something is missing.

Baseball.

“It was the love of my life,” Warner said.

He wants to reconcile and has sent resumes to all 28 major league clubs, hoping to land some kind of coaching job. He knows it’s a longshot but, like the youngster who played through pain trying to stick in the big leagues 27 years ago, Warner won’t give up.

“I played pro ball, and that’s not something that just goes away,” he said. “With what I’ve experienced, I think I could help other players.

“I’m sure a lot of guys wouldn’t care about Jackie Warner or know who he is, but if I could be an inspiration to just one player, that would be fulfilling.”