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August 26, 2005
Deluding Ourselves On Doctor K
Dwight Gooden turned himself in to Tampa police yesterday, and Eric Myerson, a Mets fan back in the 1980s, had some thoughts: It was in 1986, when Doc had just reached 21 and was the best pitcher in baseball, that he discovered debauchery, mostly via his tight friendship with the deeply troubled Darryl Strawberry. As a kid, to me 1986 just looked like an off-year for Doc. But according to The Bad Guys Won, by the end of the season Doc was pitching high, and I ain't talking about his fastball location. Doc was juiced on white powder. He had a habit of showing up to the stadium minutes before his starts, fidgeting on the mound, eyes bloodshot, sweat gushing, and basically blowing most of his post-season starts. I remember the era of Dwight Gooden all too well. The Summers of 1984-86 were the last three I spent in New York before relocating to Washington, D.C. for good, and for those three glorious Summers life was all about the Mets. Starting the 1984 season at the back of the rotation (had Tom Seaver not been lost in the waiver draft to the White Sox that previous winter, Gooden might have started the season at AAA Tidewater), it was pretty clear from the beginning that Gooden was something you only get to see once in your lifetime. Here's Bill Simmons: His fastball went up. That's the best way I can describe it. Started out as a laser, accelerated near the plate and -- defying the law of gravity -- went up. Batters swung late, missed by 18 inches, hung their heads in shame. And it wasn't even his best pitch. Gooden's curveball was so remarkable, teammates dubbed it Lord Charles; it headed for the batter's head, waited for the poor guy's knees to buckle, then veered over the plate like a heat-seeking missile. What could you do? It was like a video game that lets you create your own pitcher, only you make him so completely untouchable that no one wants to play against you. Gooden cruised to the NL Rookie of the Year award. And that September, as a present for my 17th birthday, my Dad took me to Shea to watch Doc break Herb Score's rookie strikeout record against the Pittsburgh Pirates. I still have the ticket stub. But while his performance in 1984 was spectacular, 1985 was superhuman. There was a mid-Summer win streak that seemed it would never end, and Gooden's starts became must see TV for Mets fans. Soon enough, the "K Corner" appeared in the upper deck on the third base side, and the season ended with the NL Cy Young Award. Though we didn't know it at the time, the regin of Dr. K was would begin to crumble before our eyes. In the Summer of 1986, I can remember descending a flight of steps into the bowels of Penn Station. And stretching out in front of me was a Nike ad that featured a time lapse photo of Doc throwing a pitch at Shea. It must have been more than 100 feet wide. But watching Gooden on the mound, it was clear to see something was wrong . . . very wrong. The profuse sweating that Eric mentioned in his post was all too apparent, though I can never recall discussing it with any Mets fan ever. Did we not see it and honestly not make a connection, or did we just look the other way? And instead of being superhuman, Dwight was merely very good, and didn't even lead the staff in victories or ERA that season. At the time, I can remember more than a few announcers claim that Gooden lost much of his effectiveness when batters learned to lay off his high heater. It's pretty clear now that it was simply a cover for somebody who was gradually laying the groundwork for his own destruction. This is an incredibly sad day. This Summer, as Ryne Sandberg and Wade Boggs were inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame, we should have honored another pitcher five years removed from his final day in the big leagues. We should be talking about 300 victories, thousands of strikeouts, and more than a handful of awards and championships. Instead, what we have is a broken man and a mug shot. Oh to be 17 again. POSTSCRIPT: And let me give an unqualified thumbs up to Steve Pearlman's The Bad Guys Won And we shouldn't forget that there was a punishment meted out for Gooden and Strawberry's indiscretions during the 1986 season. Only General Manager Frank Cashen left Gooden and Strawberry alone, and shipped super sub Kevin Mitchell to San Diego in exchange for one of New York's all-time great baseball malcontents: Kevin McReynolds.
Eric
06:38 AM
Trackback PingsTrackBack URL for this entry: CommentsEric, great perspective on the old Doc. I'm glad you liked the book, too. Did you find it as big a mindf*** as I did, revisiting these grown-up issues that we might not have really understood when we were younger? Why hasn't Hollywood made a movie about the '86 Mets yet? Posted by:
Imagine what Doc could have done if he hadn't done the drugs Posted by:
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, the warts and all treatment of the 1986 New York Mets. The account of the team's flight from Houston to New York after Game Six of the National League Championship Series is worth the purchase price all on its own.![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.ericmcerlain.com/offwingopinion/nav-commenters.gif)
