When The Odds Are Saying You'll Never Win

But doesn't the press drive you crazy?

"It's not the media's fault I'm 0-12."

How are you able to cope so well?

"I don't take the ball park home with me. And I remember that when things were going tough for my dad, I didn't hear him whining."

In an era when ballplayers often try to hide their failures by ducking the press, Keough plunges headlong into self-analysis. "The whole point," he says, "is you don't quit. Not ever. If I quit now, then that's telling people a lot of things about me. If I quit now when there's no pressure, don't you believe people would think I'd be likely to fold under playoff or World Series pressure?"

Playing on a young team means enduring a lot of youthful mistakes. Last Saturday's game in Oakland against lowly Seattle provided classic examples. Keough fielded a high chopper, turned to throw to first, and discovered nobody was covering. The other six hits he gave up during his four innings were singles through the infield, several of which he thought were eminently stoppable. But he walked three men and threw three wild pitches. The A's went on to win 6-5 but Keough was not involved in the decision. "I was terrible," he said as he hurled his uniform around the clubhouse. "I should have gotten a loss. I lost my poise."

Lots of things that don't show up in box scores are killing the A's—and Keough. Perfect double-play balls that only produce one out, throwing to the wrong base, atrocious base running, poor relieving. Keough understandably is circumspect about placing blame. He says, "There is no question there are times when we have teams stone beat, then lose. We're being humbled all the time. But we won't forget who has been swinging on us on 3 and 0 and playing hit-and-run when they're ahead by 10 runs. They're walking on our faces."

In truth, Keough should have at least five wins so far. For example, in the second game of the season, against Minnesota, he pitched 8? innings and allowed but one run, but got no decision. In early May against Boston he pitched nine innings, gave up two runs and lost 2-1. Against Cleveland he went 7? innings and gave up no runs, but the A's lost anyway. At times he has been hit hard, too. "A pitcher is only going to have great stuff about one-third of the time," he says. "The rest of the time he has to figure out a way to get by."

For much of his career Keough had been an infielder as well as a pitcher. When he hit .210 at AA Chattanooga in 1976, "I had to realize that I probably wasn't a bona fide big league infield prospect." He had, however, pitched some—and brilliantly—in high school, and before the 1977 season, A's owner Charlie Finley suggested he give the mound a serious try. By August he was in Oakland, where he retired the first 10 big league players he faced. "That was my shot," says Keough. "If I hadn't done well, I wasn't going to keep banging around in the minors. I love baseball, but not on a minor league level where the game doesn't love you back. See, love is a two-way relationship."

Al Jackson, now a Boston coach, knows how Keough feels; Jackson twice had seasons for the Mets in which he absorbed 20 defeats. Says Jackson, "He has to say to himself, 'If I was a bad pitcher, they wouldn't keep sending me out there and giving me the chance to lose this many in a row.' "