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Un-charmed Some guys have all the luck; then there's Ken Griffey Jr.Posted: Monday April 07, 2003 11:51 AMUpdated: Tuesday April 08, 2003 10:36 AM
Jack Lohrke is a lucky man. Has been his whole life. Saw action at Normandy during World War II, and at the Battle of the Bulge. Saw soldiers, friends of his, fall on each side of him. Lohrke got out without a scratch. After the war ended, Lohrke was scheduled to fly from Fort Dix, N.J., to Los Angeles to be discharged. He was bumped off his flight at the last minute. Not even an hour after that flight took off, it crashed. Everybody aboard was killed. Lohrke played baseball after the war, which is why I'm mentioning him here. He was trying to make it to the bigs in 1946, a California kid, a third baseman, living his dream. He and his teammates on the Spokane Indians were bussing to an away game when they stopped at a burger joint in Ellensburg, Wash.
Somehow, someone got hold of Lohrke at that restaurant and told him he was being called up to play for the San Diego Padres of the Pacific Coast League. He was being promoted. He found a ride back to Spokane. The bus went on without him. A couple of hours later, the bus careened off a slippery highway and crashed through the guardrail on a steep mountain pass. Nine of Lohrke's teammates were killed. They called Jack Lohrke "Lucky" after that. That was his name, wherever he went. Lucky Lohrke. You can look him up. Luc Robitaille plays left wing for the NHL's Detroit Red Wings. Last season, he scored the 600th goal of his illustrious career. Only a dozen other players in the history of the league had done that before him. Robitaille's first career goal came on the first shift of his first game as a rookie back in 1986. On his first shot. Ever since then, he's been known as "Lucky Luc." Which brings us to Ken Griffey Jr. Not lucky. Really, not lucky at all. If Ken Griffey were any less lucky, in fact, he'd be a genuine tragedy. As it is, his story is just very, very sad. The youngest player ever to reach 350, 400 and 450 home runs, Griffey was talked about as a surefire Hall of Famer before he was 30. But ever since his trade to Cincinnati in February of 2000 -- a trade that was supposed to be a joyful return to his hometown -- Griffey has had no luck at all. Absolutely none. Injuries have dogged him. A pulled hamstring in the first season slowed him down. He tore that hamstring the next spring. Last year, he tore a tendon in his knee, just six games into the season. In the past two years, he's played in only 181 games. But Griffey, still only 33 years old, worked hard this offseason. His legs seemed stronger than ever. Everyone said he looked great. Lots of people picked him as the Comeback Player of the Year. And then Saturday, diving for a ball in the outfield at the Reds' new ballpark, he landed hard on his shoulder and dislocated it. Writhing on the ground in pain, he was supposedly taunted by fans in the stands, according to a teammate. Griffey is going to be out for at least six weeks. Maybe 10. Fact is, if the doctors look at the shoulder in a month or two and decide, heck, this thing isn't improving and it needs to be surgically repaired, Griffey could miss the entire season. No luck. None. Stand next to Griffey and you become Lucky Lohrke, just by sheer association. "That was some sportswriter's dream, that lucky stuff," Lohrke says now, talking on the phone from his home in San Jose, Calif. "I was lucky in life, but not in baseball." Lohrke, 79, had a short-lived, mostly anonymous career, though he did play in the 1951 World Series with the New York Giants. He knows of Griffey's problems in the past few years. But he's not about to blame it all on luck. "He's run into a little tough luck," agrees Lucky, who doesn't go by the nickname any more. "But, listen, you get your chance, you make your own breaks. One way or the other. That's the way life is." Someone once said that luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. Sometimes, I guess that's it. Sometimes, though, bad luck is just that. Bad luck.
This week, users rip me for ragging on Opening Day (some agree) and rip me for a friendly jab at David Eckstein.
It is sad to see the American people not appreciate the game of baseball any more. I'm not really surprised since we, as a nation, have turned into a bunch of impatient, get on the next trendy bandwagon, cell phone-using, palm pilot-having, Real Time-watching, gotta have it now ... now ... now society. Funny how we always complain that times have changed, but we don't even try to do anything about it, like relax, drink a beer, and watch some good ol' fashioned American baseball.
Today I attended the Toronto home opener and witnessed one of the dumbest things I have ever seen in sports when a Yankees fan, who came from New York to see the game, took the head off the Eric Hinske giveaway day bobble head and hurled it at Raul Mondesi and missed him only by a few feet. Now that goes to show that the Bronx Zoo must be a traveling show.
I'm 50 years old and for me, Opening Day remains a wonderful moment. Yes, it happens too early nowadays (should be a week later, but don't get me started). Yes, it's too bad that we now get a staggered opening. Yes, it's a shame that morons run baseball, too. But the game remains the greatest of all of our team sports. Opening Day reminds of this simple reality. I'm as excited for this Opening Day as I am every year. It's a different kind of excitement at 50 than it was at 10, but it's excitement, nonetheless. If you want to recapture that excitement, you might have to try a different line of work. Or simply suppress your cynicism. Grrrrrrrrrrr.
Now you've gone and done it ... and now you'll get MY .02: I KNOW Ecks does not like the way he throws, as he has said so himself in many interviews, but to rag on him and insinuate that he does NOT belong on a World Series championship team? That's not just harsh, but it's also WRONG! He has worked his tail off to be on that team and he deserves to be there. His work ethic is the BEST in baseball (even that cocky @$$ Barry Bonds says that), and he is indeed a gamer. He has the smarts and savvy to be in the majors ... so don't insult him! I don't see your cocky @$$ out there on the field, so shut up ... if you want to rag about someone, look in the mirror!
Just for laughs, I'm writing as the token pseudo feminist in your inbox. "David Eckstein throws worse than a girl, and he starts for the World Series champs." Such a sad old stereotype isn't it, throw like girl, run like a girl ... I hadn't yet heard throws worse than a girl though. Bravo. (sigh)
Dear Sir (I'm assuming): Under your Line Drives column you wrote David Eckstein throws like a girl when in fact I think he throws like a 5-foot-6 shortstop. I believe you were referring to yourself as throwing like a girl as do most people who write about a game they can't make
money playing. Keep up the good work and for God's sake please get working on that throwing motion, if you ever make it to Anaheim I'm sure David would love to help you out. Whoa, folks. I like Eckstein. Like just about everything about him. How can you not? He works hard. Makes the most of what he was given. He's approachable. He stays humble. He's a likeable guy. Top 5 in my book, easy. But name me one other shortstop who throws like that. Ugh.
The excitement in Opening Day is gone because baseball is the world's most boring major sport ... even more boring than soccer. And 162 regular season games ... is way too much. It might be fun if there were 30-game seasons. One game each week like football. Most of the game is spent standing still. Mike, can I direct you to the college basketball page or the NFL or someplace? Lonely, neglected women are sitting at home all by themselves at this very moment. They are deeply in need of someone, either it be just for company, just to talk, someone to hold, or just to be xxxxx ... they need someone and they need them right now ... You can chat ... Ahhh, where's that delete key? You know, I'm not letting my son get an e-mail account until he's 18, minimum.
Face it pal, people do not have parades for spoiled rich kids who could not care about the fans. Think they care? Ask Barry how many autographs he signed after last year's All-Star Game.
Maybe the baseball "thrill is gone" because a family of four can no longer afford to go and watch a baseball game.
Three words for you to explain the decline of interest in baseball: Strike, Bud and Selig.
I live in St. Louis and work downtown. Today (Opening Day), one-third of my office is already gone and another one-third are starting to pack it up. I am trying to work until 1:00, at which time I will leave for the game, but I am distracted by all of the noise outside my building from the numerous rallies and pregame gatherings taking place. Every single person I have encountered this morning is wearing red, whether they are going to the game or not. Several people in my building have their kids with them this morning in order to take them to the game later. Opening Day has lost its appeal on a national level, but here in St. Louis, it is still an unofficial holiday. Next year, I'm there. John Donovan is a senior writer for SI.com.
Comments? To e-mail Donovan, click here.
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Some days it's better just not to go out. Greg Maddux had one of the worst outings of his career, giving up nine runs, including three homers, in two innings to the Florida Marlins the other day. "I pitched crummy in the first inning and crummier the next inning," he said. He has an 11.00 ERA after his first two starts, and will go again Wednesday on three days of rest.
"We're not going to go 0-162. It's not going to happen. We're not going to panic."
