(#67)
Every great season has a definite “turning point,” when something happens to change the direction and fortunes of a team. Very few teams go from start to finish without having to make some adjustments, especially baseball teams with such a long season and so many games.
During the historical and record-setting 1989 season, I believe the turning point happened in of all places, Decatur, Mississippi.
We had beaten East Central 4-1 in the first game of a south division doubleheader and in the second game we were trailing 5-1 in the fourth and it looked like it was going to be the dreaded “split.”
Cedric Robinson, a great right-hander who ended up being a 10-game winner by the time we had finished the season, was on the hill and let’s just say he didn’t have his best stuff in our 22nd game of the season.
I had already made a couple of visits to the mound and was on my 3rd and final trip to make a pitching change. #19 was an intense competitor and no matter how things were going, he always thought he could work his way out of it.
But not this time. As I was walking out, I could see the displeasure on his face. He was not happy with my decision. Nothing new here.
As a team, we were pretty average, struggling around with a 14-7 record, trying to find our identity. It was easy to see that we had some issues... physically, mentally, and emotionally. Perhaps there were some lingering tensions as we tried to merge two teams, two successful programs into one. That was the hardest thing we faced. It never was a black-white issue as most would think.
As I was arriving, Cedric was departing. As he passed by me, he tossed the baseball in my direction and it hit right in the center of my chest. But the toss had had a little more velocity behind it than the usual toss and it took me by surprise, and as I would see later, it left a mark.
A sternum with baseball seams.
Standard protocol is for the pitcher to hand the ball to the coach and then trot to the dugout showing no display of negative emotions, even upon arrival at the dugout. We didn’t throw gloves, or temper tantrums, smash the water cooler with a bat, or mope and pout. Not much. We didn’t even have the “greeting committee” of players telling him how great he was or that he did a good job; high five and glove taps. Not necessary. He could evaluate how things went himself. That’s why it’s called “self-esteem.” That’s a key component in performance.
As he stormed off, I raised my voice and told him to get to the dugout, take off his uniform, and get out of ‘my dugout.’ There may or may not have been some inappropriate language in my directive. Okay, there was. 🙂
I cooled off on my way back to the dugout and when I saw Cedric taking off his uniform, I asked him in a loud voice, “What in the hell are your doing?” He answered in an even louder voice, “I’m taking off my ‘blanking’ uniform like you told me to do!” (He didn’t say “blanking.”) 😁
I replied in an even louder tone, “You’ve never done anything I’ve ever asked you to do, so why in the hell are you going to start now? Put that #@% uniform back on right now!”
And I turned and walked away. I went back to coaching and for the second time ever, Cedric Robinson did what I told him to do and put his uniform back on, sat down and fumed.
But a strange thing happened when things cooled down. It seemed as if a heavy burden had been lifted from that dugout; lifted off Cedric, lifted off me, lifted off Coach McQuitter, and lifted off the rest of the team. A little levity followed the drama from a few minutes before. Everybody started to smile and laugh about what had happened. It took Cedric a little longer to lighten up, of course, but he did.
From that moment on, the struggles in finding our identity were gone. No more issues between the players. None between the coaches. None between the players and the coaches. Everyone began to bond together like brothers for the first time in this great experiment we began in the fall.
Cedric had performed an exorcism on our team and he didn’t even know it. He gets all the credit.
From that day forward, we went from mediocre to history-making. We quit playing for ourselves and started playing as a team and for the team.
We won 26 of our next 30 games, including a 16-3 run to end the regular season. We were 10-1 in the state, Region 23 and Eastern District Tournaments. We performed well in the World Series, but lost to Northeastern Oklahoma A&M, 14-6 after jumping off to an early 5-0 lead, and Brookdale, New Jersey, 8-7 on a bloop single in the bottom of the ninth. We finished the season with 40 wins and 14 losses.
And along the way, these coaches and players, stripped of their teams in a merger, forced to live together, work together and play together, did things no other team in Mississippi JUCO history had done.
We won the South Division Championship (our 4th in row), won the State Championship (2nd time in three years), won the Region 23 Championship (a first for Hinds), and won the Eastern District Championship (first Mississippi team to do so), and played in the JUCO World Series in Grand Junction, Colorado (another Mississippi first).
And I agree with the words the great Terre Woods sent to me some 30 years after the great events of 1989:
“I’d change not 1 thing about that wild, wild ride. 89 will live on until we all leave this earth. I’m sure of that.”
T. Woods, Hinds baseball’s first “All-America” selection.
Comments:
George McQuitter- “Nailed it !!!!! Enjoying!!!! That night we either tank or rise ! Two great coaches and a team of talented players decided to sail the ship, all the way to those remarkable and first time championships for Hinds Community College Baseball.”
Rick Clarke's Diary of a Mad Baseball Coach 