He said, "Yeah, I can do that."
And, just as I would with Jordan, I said, "You're going to remember this in the game?"
He went, "Yeah, sure."
So I'm out there, and it's unbearably hot. First at bat, Reggie takes the pitcher to the warning track—boom—and does the pose.
The next inning he comes out to me and says, "How was that?"
I figure I'll push him a bit. He's a competitor, right? So I say, "It was pretty good, Reggie, but you could probably do better, pose it a little longer."
He looks at me, real serious, and says, "I'm going to take him deep the next time."
Drunk fans used to throw coins—Reggie used to wear a helmet out in rightfield—so coins are flying out from the upper deck: nickels, quarters. It's like a war zone. But I stick with it.
Next time up, Reggie does it. He takes the pitcher deep. And you know what he does? He just stands there, in perfect pose, then walks halfway to first base before beginning his trot. Later he comes out to rightfield and goes, "How was that?" Guy was amazing.
So was Earl Weaver. He had that raspy cigarette voice, always cursing. He was old school baseball. In the early '70s I was assigned to capture him arguing with umpires. If you ever saw Earl argue, he screamed like crazy. So I was sitting on the dugout steps in Minnesota, and he asked, "What are you doing here?"