Getting Traded to the Phillies--The Rest of the Story

I get a lot of questions about getting traded to Philadelphia in 1990, sometimes from Braves fans who tell me they were upset with the Braves just trading me away like that. Although I really appreciate the sentiment, I’ve always felt like I should kind of clarify exactly what happened. So, without getting into too many details, here’s how it went.

It was the summer of 1990, and things weren’t going that well. The previous two years (1988, 1989) hadn’t been that great either, honestly. The team was struggling, I was struggling. I saw some potential in a few of our young pitchers (like John Smoltz and Tom Glavine), but other than that I didn’t have much of a sense for where the Braves were heading. I talked to Nancy a lot about how frustrated I was and started to realize it might be time for me to move on. There had been trade rumors off and on through the mid-80’s (and even up through ’88 or so—the Mets were one team that always seemed to be mentioned) but I never paid much attention to them because, quite honestly, I could never see myself leaving the Braves. But by the end of the decade, that had changed. I started feeling kind of excited at the prospects of going to a new team. I wondered whether a change of scenery would rejuvenate me, and my career. At the same time, I was aware of what can happen when a long-time player has some success with one team and sticks around longer than he should: production eventually falls off and the team is left with the uncomfortable task of figuring out whether to renew his contract (even though his best years may well be behind him) or release him (usually against popular opinion.) The Braves had done so much for me through the years that I just didn’t want to put them in that position. And it can be equally awkward for the player himself, not knowing whether he can contribute enough to make it really worth keeping him. I sure didn’t want to wait around to find out what that felt like, so I decided it was time to get the ball rolling.

So I went in and talked to Bobby Cox that August. I told him that, with free agency coming up in a few months, I was thinking it might be time for me to move on. More specifically, I told him I was planning to leave as a free agent that winter but that if they wanted to try to trade me immediately I'd consider it (I had the right to either accept or reject any proposed trade since I'd been in the league for awhile with the same team.) I wanted the Braves to explore the possibility of getting something out of the situation, instead of me just leaving them as a free agent.

Soon after this discussion with Bobby, my agent called and told me the Phillies were interested. They had made a trade offer the Braves were willing to accept, and they would renew my contract with an additional two years guaranteed. Nancy and I knew it wouldn’t be easy to transition our eight children to a new city, but going to Philadelphia looked like a great option for us. Not only were the Phillies headed in a strong direction (in just three years, they would go to the World Series, in fact), but accepting a trade would also make it possible for me to avoid all the uncertainty of the free-agent process. So, with that, I accepted the trade.

The basic point I want to make here is that I actually initiated the trade—not the Braves. I hope this clarifies the issue for some folks who, occasionally even today, tell me they’re upset with Bobby and/or with the Braves for sending me to Philadelphia. What most people don’t know is that, even without the trade, I would have become a free-agent that winter and ended up somewhere besides Atlanta. It definitely wasn’t easy to make the move to the Phillies and the fact that the Braves went to the World Series the next year didn’t make it any easier. Still, I was glad I did it. It was time. I had a great experience with the Phillies. And as demanding as the Philadelphia fans could sometimes be, I really enjoyed playing for them and wish I could have performed better. My family and I were always treated well by the Phillies organization and we’ll always appreciate the friendships we made while we were there.

On a side note, I can’t tell you how weird it was to put on a new uniform after so many years wearing Braves blue. I’ll never forget stepping into the batter’s box for the first time at Veteran’s Stadium. I started getting into my stance, and then looked down to tap the plate to find RED shoes and RED stirrups staring back at me. Those new colors definitely took some getting used to.

I can’t leave this subject without saying one more thing. No matter where the years have taken Nancy and I and our kids, no matter how much we have enjoyed other places we have lived and the people we have known, there’s no two ways about it: Atlanta will always feel like home and I’ll always be a Brave.

Beatco Playlist--And Some New Songs You're Going to Love

Several people have asked me to post the entire Beatco playlist (see Murph Listens to What? post)...so here it is:

Come Together (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Kamera (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
Something (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Radio Cure (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
Maxwell’s Silver Hammer (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
Oh! Darling (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
War On War (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
Octopus’s Garden (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Jesus, Etc. (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
I Want You (She’s So Heavy) (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Ashes of American Flags (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
Here Comes the Sun (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Heavy Metal Drummer (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
Because (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
I’m the Man Who Loves You (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
Pot Kettle Black (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
You Never Give Me Your Money (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Poor Places (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
Sun King (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Reservations (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—Wilco)
Mean Mr. Mustard (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Impossible Germany (Sky Blue Sky—Wilco)
Polythene Pam (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
You Are My Face (Sky Blue Sky—Wilco)
Golden Slumbers (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Hate It Here (Sky Blue Sky—Wilco)
Carry That Weight (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
On and On and On (Sky Blue Sky—Wilco)
The End (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
Let’s Not Get Carried Away (Sky Blue Sky—Wilco)
Her Majesty (Abbey Road—The Beatles)
What Light (Sky Blue Sky—Wilco)
Getting Better (Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band—The Beatles)
Shake It Off (Sky Blue Sky—Wilco)
Strawberry Fields Forever (Magical Mystery Tour—The Beatles)
She’s a Jar (Summerteeth—Wilco)
I’ll Fight (Wilco The Album—Wilco)

If you like Wilco, you must like great music...so here's some more great music by my son, Chad. He records under the name "Markarians": (PS...you're going to love it!)
For a free download of his latest album: http://markarians.bandcamp.com/album/ten-means-heaven
Music video for "Rip Through Sunsets": http://vimeo.com/26542032
Music video for "Strangers II": http://vimeo.com/25932177
Take a second to "like" Markarians on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/markarianstheband

Niekro and Matthews: Major-League Mentors

Who did you look up to in the early days of your career?

Early on in my career I was lucky to rub shoulders with a number of great players, but there were two guys, in particular, that really had a lasting impact on me: Phil Niekro and Gary Matthews, or “Knucksie” and “Sweet,” as we called them, respectively. In Phil’s case, one thing I admired was how he managed his career, namely, his contract negotiations, which were always done professionally, avoiding any conflict. On the field, he was a great example to us young guys (me, Bob Horner, Glen Hubbard, etc.) of how to play hard and endure to the end. For instance, I saw him pitch a bunch of times when he wasn’t feeling 100%. He may have had a sore back or arm, but he’d get out there anyway and give it his all. He also hated getting pulled from games. Contrary to many pitchers in the game today (which fact is partly due to the rise of the middle-reliever), Knucksie expected to pitch all nine innings every time he got on the mound. A couple of years ago, in fact, he told me that he genuinely felt like he had failed the team every time he didn’t pitch a complete game. Another thing about Knucksie was that he could hit. He took his hitting very seriously, and he was always on the lookout for ways to help the team win. In short, Knucksie was a true gamer. And, watching his example, I decided that’s how I wanted to be known, too—-as someone who’d put the game and their team ahead of himself.

A few posts ago I mentioned going to a Giants/Phillies game the night before my pre-draft workout in Philadelphia back in 1974. If I remember right, Gary Matthews was a young player on the Giants at the time. And like Knuckise, Gary was a true player’s player. His effort and enthusiasm on the field really set him apart, in my eyes, from so many other guys. Every time Gary would put the ball in play, you just knew he wasn’t going to be satisfied with a single. He’d often knock his helmet off running to first so he could at least try for second base (in fact, he’d hit with his baseball cap folded up in his back pocket, a habit I think came from his early career when it was typical to run without a helmet). Gary was aggressive, always talking and motivating everyone, and he’d push us young guys to be better. We all really looked up to him. I can remember, for instance, when I heard we’d traded Gary to the Phillies in the spring of 1979. I was taking batting practice in spring training, and I hurried in to John Mullen’s (the general manager) office and asked him if it was true that we traded Gary. I remember first stopping in the clubhouse, to grab a Gatorade or something, all the while debating in my mind whether it was appropriate for me to go express my disappointment to the GM! It was the first time I’d ever gone in to management to voice my opinion on one of their decisions. That’s how much I admired Gary. In a way, trading Gary was a compliment to the younger players—the Braves obviously felt we’d be strong enough offensively that we could trade him to get some pitching. Still, we missed his energy on the Braves, and he went on to great things with the Phillies and Cubs, where he was given the nickname “Sarge” for saluting the bleacher bums out in left field before every game. I was very fortunate to have had him and Knucksie showing me the way during the critical early stages of my career. I’ll never forget their examples.

Memories of 1980 (and why MLB has the best all-star game...)

My first all-star game was in 1980 at Dodger Stadium. It was my first year playing centerfield, so making the all-star team really confirmed for me that I’d found a home in the outfield. It was such a thrill to be out there with so many great players, many of whom I’d been watching on TV as a high school kid not that long before. Johnny Bench, for example, was the starting catcher for the National League that year, making his 13th all-star game appearance. Steve Garvey was making his 7th appearance, and Pete Rose, his 14th. J.R. Richard was our starting pitcher, and before the game I remember thinking the AL guys had absolutely no chance of hitting him (not only was J.R. one of the toughest pitchers around, but the game started at 5 p.m., which meant the shadows would make seeing the ball even more difficult than usual). And I was right: J.R. got through the first three innings pretty easily, if I remember right. Ken Griffey hit a home run and was named MVP—little did I know I’d be playing with him on the Braves a few years later.

I was lucky to get in the game that year, which doesn’t always happen for everyone (I remember that Jose Cruz, for example, didn’t get in the 1980 game). I played centerfield for a couple of innings and also got to hit against Goose Gossage. Well, I say “hit,” but I think I just tapped a little dribbler off the end of the bat, right back to the mound. (I did hit a pretty long foul ball right before that, though).

One thing I’ll never forget about that day was a brief encounter I had with Pete Rose in the tunnel between the dugout and the locker room. As I was walking back he stopped me and said, “Hey congratulations on making the All-Star team, Murph.” Then he continued: “Remember, though, don’t do anything any different out there tonight than you would during the regular season.” Right then I had this image of Pete running over Ray Fosse to win the 1970 All-Star game, and I knew without a doubt that he meant what he said. It was a perfect example of Pete’s attitude toward the game.

This leads me to one of the reasons why I think Major League Baseball has the best all-star game in professional sports. Baseball all-stars (on average) really want to do well in the game. In my experience, I never really got the feeling that there was anyone out there that didn’t want to win. I was fortunate to be on a lot of winning NL teams, but when we lost it was tough to take. In the 1983 game at Old Comiskey Park, for example, we got pounded by the American League, and it wasn’t easily forgotten by any of us, believe me.

There’s another reason, I think, why the MLB All-Star game has an edge on other sports. Given the nature of the game of baseball, players almost have to treat it like regular season game. Unlike many other team sports, baseball’s a game of one-on-one episodic play wherein the course of a game can drastically change every single time the ball’s in play. As a player, then, you can’t ever just not play defense. Pitchers aren’t ever going to throw half-speed nor will shortstops ever just not dive for a close ball. You could slack off, of course, but not without it being totally obvious that you’re phoning it in. In football, though, I’d argue it’s much easier to blend in if you’re not giving 100% on defense, as we’ve seen in the Pro Bowl. In the NBA All-Star Game, it’s even something of a norm to play as little defense as possible. To be fair, I don’t really blame NFL players for not playing full-speed defense in the Pro-Bowl—they go through so much pain and injury in the regular season already that they’re bound to slow down a little bit in an exhibition game. In fact, in my opinion the Pro Bowl should go the way of the dodo. Why not hold some sort of big awards banquet or golf/bowling exhibition with NFL players instead? I’d bet fans would really enjoy this sort of televised event, and I’d suspect players would welcome the change.

Baseball is fortunate to have a system of norms and rules that keep defenders on their toes, and the MLB All-Star Game is all the better for it, both for fans and players alike.

Brian McCann--Doing It the Right Way

As many of you know, Brian McCann will be the starting catcher for the National League All-Star team this year. One thing you can say about Brian is that he was born to be a baseball player. He’s a gamer, that’s for sure. He’s a clutch hitter, he can win the game with his defense and he works great with his pitchers. Braves nation has been fortunate to be a part of Brian’s career so far. He’s a great player. This will be his sixth All-Star Game in his young career. Amazing. You think it’s easy to root for him now? Here’s a quick story that will make you want to pull for him even more.

Back around Brian’s first year in the league, the Braves were moving to new television network, and they asked Phil Niekro, me, Sid Bream and some other old players to do a few promotional spots with some current players (a cross-generational effort, in a sense :). Phil and I teamed up with Brian for one of the commercials.

There were two parts to the commercial. In the first spot, Knucksie turned to me and said, with a chuckle, “You know, Murph, back when I played it took a real man to throw a knuckleball,” to which I jokingly replied, “And a better man to hit one!” That was it—a ten-second little funny back-and-forth. For the next spot, Brian and I switched places. Phil said, “You know, Brian, back when I played, it took a real man to hit a knuckleball,” and then Brian said, “And a better man to catch one!” Everyone had a good time with it—or so we thought.

After the shoot Brian and I were sitting there talking, and he was clearly concerned about something. As he was taking off his shinguards (he’d been in catcher’s gear for the shoot) he looked over and said, “Nah, I can’t say that.” I said, “What do you mean?” Brian said, “I can’t say what I just said—"a better man” than Phil Niekro? I can’t say that. I mean, it’s Knucksie, and I’m just a rookie. How can I honestly say that? I’m not a better man than Phil.” I tried to tell Brian that it was just a joke, but he was unmoved. He'd grown up watching Phil and had such respect for him that he just wasn’t comfortable with it.

So I went over to Phil and told him that Brian didn’t want to say what he said, and that he wanted to redo the spot. “Wait, he doesn’t want to say what?” Phil asked, a bit puzzled. I explained and then we went over to the producer and told him to not start packing up yet, since they were going to need to shoot a different version of the second spot. After we explained a little bit more they ended up reshooting the commercial.

I learned a lot about Brian that day. He's got character, simply put. He’s a humble guy who appreciates the chance he has to play baseball and to represent the Braves organization. It's clear that not only does he want to be a successful player, but he wants to do it the right way. As a baseball fan what more could you ask for?

Knowledge = Mental Edge

If you’re drafted as a baseball player, you’ve obviously got some talent. As you work your way through the system, though, you inevitably start discovering new strengths and new weaknesses. And, to me, this is the moment that separates great players from the rest. Great players draw on two things here, specifically: 1) an unshakeable confidence in their abilities; and 2) a knack for not only learning new things about those abilities but also for remembering and applying those lessons, which they do constantly. And as you might expect, # 2 is often one of the main sources of #1.

There’s so much tacit knowledge required to excel at a game like baseball, and you need to develop that knowledge as quickly as possible. As a pitcher, some of the most important learning comes from studying veteran pitchers and asking them about what they did and why they did it. Other ways to learn include talking with catchers who know how to get guys out (and also with batters, if they’re willing, to get them to say which pitchers they have trouble with and why). Greg Maddux was one of the best examples of this I’ve ever seen, and it’s not as common as you might imagine. I remember Ted Simmons, for instance, toward the end of his career, wondering why more young pitchers weren’t asking him about the things he didn’t like to see as a hitter so they could try them on opposing batters. And the same thing goes for hitters: you need to pay close attention to what others do that seems to work well, and then try to notice the details about your swing that are perhaps holding you back.

Once you develop this trove of knowledge you’ll need to work to maintain it. I always tell young high school and college players to study hard and learn how to think, since the intellectual skills they gain in the classroom will go a long way in helping them retain and apply what they learn on the baseball field. Throughout my career I saw a lot of talented players that really struggled with this mental aspect of the game. Despite their talent, their on-field instincts never really progressed, and they were unable to improve past a certain point.

To be sure, baseball is a game of split-second reactions and finely-tuned physical reflexes, which may seem contradictory to all this cerebral stuff I’m talking about here. But I think it’s also true that these instincts rely heavily on knowledge gained through previous experience. Take base running, for example, a skill that relies as much (if not more) on prior learning as it does on pure physical ability. If you’re naturally quick but don’t have a sense for situations (e.g., when to take a chance and when to stay put), then you’ll literally be going nowhere fast.

Not only will all this mental work help you move up as a young player, but it will also help compensate for diminishing physical abilities later in your career. In fact, I’d bet it’s the same as in many other careers—when you start losing your edge your best weapon is what you’ve got stored in your head. And, trust me, that hard-won knowledge can be a powerful asset. Just think of how many seasoned “older” players have been more effective in certain ways than their younger, more talented peers.

In short, the mental side of game isn’t just a matter of learning to relax, being confident, and trying to keep your focus—it’s about first doing the mental work that will allow these positive states to emerge on their own.

Getting Drafted--My Experience

I was drafted in June of 1974. I played high school ball at Wilson High School in Portland, Oregon, and by June of my senior year, during my American Legion season, I starting noticing more scouts at my games. I got to know one Phillies scout in particular, Bill Harper, who was good friends with my high school coach, Jack Dunn. I knew Bill liked me, and about two weeks before the draft I got a call from the Phillies inviting me to a pre-draft workout at Veteran’s Stadium. It was exciting, to say the least. My Dad and I flew back to Philadelphia, and we got to watch the Phillies play the Giants before the workout the next morning.

A lot was going through my mind during the tryout, as you can imagine. Mostly, though, I couldn’t believe the humidity. It was just sweltering. Portland has never known the type of humidity you get out there on the East Coast. I didn’t bring a bat, either, I remember that. First they wanted to see us hit with wooden bats (aluminum bats had just been invented, and that was really all I was used to), so I walked up to the bat rack to find a collection of—no kidding—the most massive bats I’d ever seen. They were just huge to me. (Mike Schimdt, Bob Boone etc. were with the Phillies at the time). I heaved one out of there and went out to hit. I was really nervous. My hands were sweaty, and I didn’t do that well (I think I hit maybe one off the wall). Then they took us out to the outfield for the sixty-yard dash, and I had the great misfortune of being paired up with Willie Wilson, one of the fastest guys to ever play the game (at the time he had a scholarship to play halfback at the University of Maryland). There I was, this tall, skinny guy, about 6’ 4” 200 pounds, with only decent speed, matched up against Willie Wilson. As soon as they yelled “Go!” Willie was already ten yards ahead of me. I left the workout pretty sure I hadn’t impressed the Phillies all that much, at least not in the speed department.

The draft was a couple of weeks later, and it’s interesting how it differed from today’s draft. Without the Internet or any major sports media outlets around, none of us had any idea which teams were interested or even really what our chances were. I knew the Phillies might draft me, but I had no idea whether any other teams were interested. As it happened, I was picked 5th overall by the Atlanta Braves. The Phillies took Lonnie Smith 3rd, and the Padres took Bill Almon as the overall #1 pick. I honestly had no idea I’d go that high, nor did I have much of a clue about what it all meant. I barely knew where Atlanta was on a map, let alone where their minor league clubs were located. In fact, the whole minor league system was pretty much a mystery to me. All I knew was that Hank Aaron had been with the Braves, and he broke Babe Ruth’s home run record. You could say I was a little naïve.

Soon after the draft my dad and I negotiated my contract with Bill White, the scout for the Braves. They offered me a $52,000 signing bonus. I didn’t have an agent--it was just me and my dad--nor did I have information about what comparable players were signing for, but $52,000 seemed incredible to me. I remember talking with my parents about it, and they asked, “Well, what do you think? Do you want to go to college (I had signed a letter of intent to go to Arizona State) or do you want to play pro ball?” I told them I wanted to give baseball a shot. So I signed.

Later I found out that Bill White had sent a telegram to Eddie Robinson, the GM for the Braves, during our negotiations. He told him that it was all going well and that he thought they might be able to get me for as low as $65,000 (!). So much for my negotiation skills, I thought. I mean, $52,000 seemed like a major victory!

TOP TEN DRAFT PICKS OF 1974 (FYI):

Padres: Bill Almon
Rangers: Tommy Boggs
Phillies: Lonnie Smith
Indians: Tom Brennan
Braves: Dale Murphy
Brewers: Butch Edge
Cubs: Scot Thompson
White Sox: Larry Monroe
Expos: Ron Sorey
Angels: Mike Miley