Not everyone is fortunate enough to sit through a week’s worth of baseball with a guy like Frank Howard.
Frankly because God didn’t make many like Frank.
Those in the C.O. Brown Stadium press box, however, have enjoyed his company this week. A star outfielder and first baseman during his playing days, Howard is now a special assistant for the New York Yankees, and he’s evaluating Battle Creek’s talent during the team’s eight-game homestand.
You’ll get the chance to meet Frank in person today, as he’ll sign autographs for about an hour prior to Battle Creek’s 2 p.m. contest against South Bend.
But in case you miss the chance to meet him (which you shouldn’t), or in case you want to spend more time with him (which you will), here’s a glimpse inside the press box. Consider it an attempt to share the wealth, an imperfect effort to relate a perfect baseball experience with a perfect ambassador for the game.
Start with the image of your grandfather in his most jovial mood, only make Grandpa really tall. Listed at 6-foot-7 on his trading cards, the 67-year-old Howard says he was a half-inch taller than that, and adds “I don’t think I’ve shrunk.”
No, he hasn’t, so it’s easy to see why they nicknamed him Hondo. That imposing figure – minus some gray hair and well-earned wrinkles – also prompted this line from Fresco Thompson in his book “Every Diamond Doesn’t Sparkle.”
“One of these days Howard will unleash a line drive at the opposing pitcher and the only identification left on the mound is going to be a laundry mark.”
If you saw Frank turn baseballs into missiles, then you also saw what Ed Sullivan looked like on television and what Vietnam did to America. That’s because Howard’s playing career stretched from 1958-1973, a span in which he played in four All-Star Games, won the 1960 National League Rookie of the Year award and claimed two American League home run crowns.
But he doesn’t waste words bragging about those accomplishments, done mostly with the Los Angeles Dodgers and Washington Senators. He’s got too many other things he wants to talk about.
Half of the time, he’s pointing out the nuances of the game in progress, like why a pitcher is having success or what a runner could’ve done differently to move up an extra base.
“We don’t criticize, we critique,” Howard says.
And the rest of the time, he entertains.
Frank’s got more stories than the Brothers Grim and enough baseball wisdom to write a dozen best-sellers. In fact, he’s been approached several times by New York sports writers to do a book about his experiences.
But Frank keeps declining the offer, and the reason why tells you more about the man than any book could.
“I really think it would be a fun book, but I don’t want to hurt anybody,” says Frank. “Somewhere along the way, even in light conversation, you’re gonna say something that might affect a guy’s kids or his family. And that would break my heart if I hurt anybody unintentionally.”
So since he won’t pass the stories on to posterity, you treasure them more when he passes them on in person.
Like the one about the time the Dodgers tried him out at third base in a minor league game, and manager Ray Perry made a point of telling him to show off his arm strength for some scouts.
“By about the third inning,” smiles Howard, “those fans behind first base picked a little safer spot.”
And by the fifth inning, he was an outfielder again.
But things worked out OK for Frank. In 16 big league seasons, he hit .273 with 382 homers and 1,119 RBIs, and he still remembers the names of every guy he played with and against. Tales about Stan Musial, Al Kaline and Maury Wills just roll off his tongue, and most are punctuated by Frank’s booming laugh.
Seeping through every story is Howard’s love for the game, which kept him in the baseball business when his playing skills no longer could. Before his current job with the Yankees, he was a longtime coach and had managerial stints with San Diego in 1981 and the New York Mets in 1983.
One day some players wanted to work on doubles plays and Frank was asked to hit the ground balls to them.
“I should be pretty good at it,” Howard told them. “I hit into 32 of them one year. Stood as a record for a long time.”
Jim Rice finally took Howard off the hook in 1984, and Frank brought up that fact when the two crossed paths.
“I said Jimmy, I’m upset at you,” he says. “You broke the only record I’m ever gonna hold in baseball.”
Only because they don’t keep records for smiles and laughs.
ďż˝ Howie Magner covers the Battle Creek Yankees for the Battle Creek Enquirer. He has been a sports writer at newspapers in Oklahoma, Ohio and Michigan for more than 10 years.
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Copyright © 2004 by Battle Creek Enquirer. Posted June 24, 2004.
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