A Conversation with Jack McDowell

[Gregory Pratt]

A Conversation with Jack McDowell

By Gregory Pratt

 

Black Jack McDowell is watering the outfield grass and killing weeds at the high school he coaches at when I approach him for our interview, and I instantly recognize the 1993 Cy Young Award winner. He still has a tall, thin frame befitting the "stickfigure" moniker of his band and childhood, and though his hair is graying, he appears to be in good shape as we start our conversation. I had worried about whether or not meeting this living-legend would be a disappointment, whether I would learn that a hero of mine is a jerk or a shell of what he once was, but McDowell is neither unpleasant nor living pitifully off of the past. We are a couple of minutes into our meeting, just making general small-talk, when he demonstrates this perfectly.

 

I had just finished asking a question about his relationship with former teammates when he looked up at me and said, "I just want you to know that I am paying attention, but I'm taking care of these weeds at the same time. Don't think I'm ignoring you." It was a small gesture, unnecessary insofar as I had no doubt that he was listening, but those types of gestures are often the easiest to appreciate. He did not have to assure me of anything, yet went out of his way to, and it should be noted that he never once made it difficult to interview him. My friend Pat Jordan warned me to start out with easy questions and then go into the controversial ones so that the player won't feel as if he's under attack or take a defensive tone from the outset, and near the end of the interview I shared this advice with McDowell. He replied that "nothing" I ask could piss him off because questions are simply made to be answered.

 

Like numerous reporters before me, I found that Jack McDowell is a journalist's dream. And after all these years, he still knows how to throw strikes.

 

I did not have enough time with Jack McDowell to write a formal profile of him, nor did I arrive with a template for an article already written, so this piece is part interview, part profile, and part transcript of the time I spent in Encinitas, California with Black Jack McDowell. I have titled it simply "A Conversation with Jack McDowell" because I had and have zero interest in playing a "gotcha" game with him or quoting the man out of context to create controversy. My vision of the day was one of thoughts and ideas being exchanged freely and for the record, and I will attempt to stay true to that by simply sharing the encounter with only minimal commentary. It will not be presented in a linear manner as a direct transcript, but nothing will be taken out of context. There were questions that I asked and dropped only to follow up on them later, which for purposes of clarity I am organizing according to relevance.

 

Confidence of a ballplayer

 

To start, McDowell tells me that the "weirdest thing about having been a professional ballplayer is not playing. When you retire, you're done. At every level. There are no pick-up games. It's not like football, where you can play two-on-two if you want. Baseball isn't that kind of sport. You need eighteen guys." I think about his comment for a moment and suggest that he could play in Independent League ball. I ask what he thinks of this.

 

"I could go for a few games and that's it. Then they'd have to call 9-1-1."

 

We both laughed at his response but I pressed on with a logical follow-up.

 

"How hard do you throw today, Jack?"

 

"Oh, I don't know," he laughs, and I'm not sure if he's reminiscing or simply being modest. "You'd have to ask the kids I throw to." I think it's a fair answer, but I decide to re-work the question anyway: What if you started working out to get into major league shape. How hard do you think you could get up to?

 

"Pretty close to my playing days' velocity," he says to me, and whatever answer I might have expected, that wasn't it. I did a visible double-take. "Really? You think you could get back to ninety?"

 

"Sure, or close to it. Now sustaining it over thirty starts is a different matter."

 

Nobody ever said that Jack McDowell lacks confidence. And for what it's worth, I do not doubt for one moment that he is right.

 

Black Jack teaching

 

Nowadays, Jack McDowell spends much of his time coaching, both with his children and at his high school. I guess that McDowell is a good coach, from our conversation and the testimony of some of his ballplayers who testified to that effect. "Would you still say that if he weren't standing fifteen feet away?" I asked one of them who had called him a good coach, and he replied, "Oh yeah. I think he's great." From what I've seen and heard, I concur. McDowell is a purist, intense and articulate in his belief that the game of baseball needs to be played and coached flexibly but given utmost respect. His answer to my question, "Were you easy to coach?" indicates this perfectly.

 

"Probably not, no," he said in response to my query. "I was hard-headed. And a lot of coaches can only get something out of certain types of players. A lot of people can't deal with different mechanics and don't understand that there isn't just one way to teach. I like to look at things and ask how many ways we can get out of something or get something to work. We live in an age of mechanics, statistics, pitch-counts -- and nobody lets kids develop their own styles."

 

Which does not mean that he takes a laissez-faire approach to coaching. Like many former baseball players and analysts, he talks about the Twins as a great organization of baseball players. "Look at them. They've got grinders who play correctly. They hang every year because they've got guys playing correctly from the majors on down. That's why they hang every year." And then he brings up a favorite example of a bad baseball team: the 2006 Detroit Tigers. "Look at that Tigers team that lost the World Series. They can't field a bunt and throw it to first base, so they can't win! The first thing I would change if I were a pitching coach would be more pitcher's fielding practice. You do it all through spring training and then you never do it again, so that from August on, pitchers are throwing balls away and don't know how to field."

 

Out of curiosity, I ask him what the first thing he taught his players was after taking over at his high school. He says it was how to run the bases, because "I didn't think they knew how to play the game." I ask him if he ever brings up his playing days with his ballplayers, and he says, "Not really. Only sometimes, mostly if they ask, but I'll bring something up to show when something worked and when something didn't." He makes it clear that he is not trying to compete through his children or anyone else's.

 

"There are a lot of guys out there with 'Little League Dad Syndrome.' I'm not like that. Teaching is the most important thing when you're coaching kids. Obviously, I want to win. You play the game to win. It's in the Little League rulebook, that the purpose of playing is to score more runs than the other team."

 

From here, he started on a riff about how much "babying there is [in baseball] today. Too much coddling." He complains that ballplayers aren't what they used to be, that you aren't allowed to make outs in T-Ball. I laughed out loud and said, "That may be true, but you know that every ballplayer says that of his succeeding generation, right?"

 

"Well, it's true about this one," he says. And when I read about pitchers like Erik Bedard refusing to pitch deep into ballgames, I think he's right, and it starts to get a little less humorous.

 

The Scientific Method with Jack McDowell

 

I asked McDowell if he had heard about the Japanese pitcher that gave up sixty-six runs in two innings, using 250 pitches, and he could not believe it. I said, "Isn't that crazy? I mean, if you put a guy out there to pitch batting practice with a defense behind him would he give up that many runs?" He said no. "That's a big lesson I try to teach my kids. It's a big lesson for hitters and pitchers. I try to get them to hit doubles by throwing it down the middle and you'll see guys pop balls up or ground them into the ground. Pitchers don't have to be perfect every time." (I suppose that the converse is also true: hitters often have to be perfect, and to start an at-bat the pitcher has an upper-hand, although that is my commentary and not explicitly his).

 

I used the Japanese pitcher's pitch count as a starting point for a discussion of his own career. McDowell was known as a workhorse starting pitcher who routinely threw complete games in an age where that was becoming more and more rare, so I asked him if he regrets throwing as many innings as he did as young as he did, and I asked whether or not he wishes he had pitched less innings to potentially save his career. He is emphatic, and I have no doubt he means his answer: "Absolutely not." He paused. "I wish they'd had a four-man rotation when I was a pitcher." But McDowell didn't simply want the ball each fourth game for his own satisfaction: he wanted it so that his team could have a better chance to win rather than having to rely on some AAAA pitcher for the fifth starter as most every team has to do through a full season. "You see that with every team nowadays."

 

From there we started to talk about complete games, about pitchers who want to pitch deep into the ballgame. He starts to talk about pitch counts, and says that they are the "most overblown crock of crap, unbelievable and sickening." Showing a knack for sound modern journalism, he admonishes me to write that down word-for-word. "It's a good quote!" And then he makes a passionate argument decrying the lack of science in dealings with pitchers today.

 

"The pitch count is accepted as a science. But it's the furthest thing from science. When you think of science, you think of testing something against other things, of taking variables and controlling them. There's no way you can blanket '100' as a pitch count for everyone." We start to talk about his own players, and I ask if he ever has parents complain about pitch counts. He talks about how some parents hover over him counting each throw, and how he always tells them that the kid is eighteen years old and nothing will happen to him if he goes an extra inning. "The hitters will tell us when he's going to come out."

 

As always happens when discussion turns to workhorses and starting pitchers in today's game, my mind turns to Roy Halladay, and I say to McDowell, "Roy Halladay must be your hero."

 

His answer is perfect: "Whoever is letting him pitch is my hero."

 

Exploited, not appreciated.

 

I asked McDowell if he had ever chewed out a reporter after a story was printed. He said no, because "what's done is done," but that he had felt "exploited, not appreciated" at times during his career by the media. Knowing that McDowell would always give straight-talk and not "Bull Durham answers," the press would approach him right after events to get their stories filled. I said, "I've read that you have 'disdain' for the media. Is that right?" He says that it's basically right, but that it's a part of the job that has to be done whether he likes it or not, or trusts any given reporter.

 

Out of curiosity I asked him what he got out of his education at Stanford, where he majored in communication, something that is a little-known fact about him. The answer is immediate: "A love of editing. Came in big with my music. I put that into the music." He pauses just as suddenly. "That's probably it."

 

If you didn't know, McDowell had a band called Stickfigure that he played in both during his player career and after, and he would take at least one tour a year every year from 1992 onwards. He had to give it up after a back surgery made it difficult to tour, and now the project is largely done with. It's difficult to do with his coaching gig and his family, and it's difficult to do as a matter of logistics.

 

"There are no more small scenes. There was a time when you could always find a place to play, but people aren't at clubs as often anymore and you don't see that like you used to. I never tried to be a superstar. It was just about the music."

 

I sidestep the subject now -- not wishing to talk about the music too much as it is not my forte or my focus and, I am disappointed to hear that the project is likely over -- and ask about the national championship he won at Stanford, and more specifically, I ask him if that is the most meaningful thing that happened during his broad playing career. "Yeah. Easily. If you win a championship you could not have had a better year. At the end of the season you're out there alone and on top. Individual awards can be bettered. But if you're on top, you're on top, and there's no one else there."

 

I stretched this to ask if he truly would rather win a title with a team while going 10-10 with a 4.50 ERA rather than ending the season at home but being recognized as the best pitcher in the league. He stands by that. Easy for a Cy Young Award winner and national champion to say.

 

A man without regrets

 

I have often wondered whether or not Barry Zito feels shame over winning the Cy Young Award over Pedro Martinez when he clearly did not deserve to in 2003, and I wish that someone could ask him whether or not he feels he deserved it over Martinez. I have heard people argue in the past that Jack McDowell did not deserve the Cy Young in 1993 over Randy Johnson, and I wondered whether he had ever given thought to the subject. So I ask him explicitly whether he thinks he earned it over Johnson fair and square. "I think I deserved the Cy Young Award," he says without any conflict in his voice. "If you look at Randy Johnson, we had similar teams in the same division that year. He had more strikeouts but I had more of everything else."

 

"You should ask Dennis Eckersley if he deserved the Cy Young Award the year before when I came second. No relief pitcher should ever beat a 20-win pitcher. Closers only get into the game if it's opportune. The starter has to get him there. Being a closer is like being a pinch-hitter who only pinch-hits with runners on second and third and no-outs. Now granted, Dennis Eckersley was a stud," he says, and I offer to keep Eckersley off the record but he doesn't mind if I write his comments down. I, too, find it easy to speak my mind when I'm right, so I sympathize.

 

As we go deeper into his playing career, I ask him if he has any regrets, and I was specifically thinking of the fact that his career ended prematurely, largely as a result of injuries. McDowell does say that he wishes he hadn't lost out on the "second half of his career," that he wishes he could still be out there like Glavine, Maddux, Smoltz and Johnson. Not just for his own glory and statistics, but to be a mentor to younger players. "I lost the part of being the super-veteran pitcher. Early in my career I had Carlton Fisk, and those guys are the best coaches. Now I coach my kids, but it's not the same as what you can accomplish at the big-league level."

 

That leads to a question many people ask about McDowell: "Why haven't you become a full-time coach yet?" He says he won't do it until his kids are grown, and that'll be a few more years. I wonder if anyone has ever formally approached him about coaching and he says that he has been approached about his interest, but that he always says the time isn't right in his life right now.

 

"I assume you don't broadcast for the same reasons?"

 

"Yeah." But he makes it clear that he isn't all that enthused about broadcasting. "If I'm going to go down on the road, it'll be in the dugout." I ask him if he thinks he could ever be a full-time broadcaster. "I don't think so. I am first interested in being on the field. It's fun to do a spot gig here and there when someone asks you to because someone's sick or whatever, but it's not something I'd really want to do full-time."

 

I keep with the line of questioning, about his future, and ask why he doesn't coach at a college. The answer is, at first, that it is too much of a time commitment, and he does not want to leave his family at this point. But then he adds this: "I like it here because it's just about baseball. There's no recruiting. Just baseball." It is an admirable sentiment, in line with his purist attitude. At this point, I notice that the balls his players are using have been scuffed with dirt, and I recount the Mike Mussina anecdote from Living on the Black to him about how Mussina shows the ball to young players and tells them that a dirty baseball is a gift from God to be protected and used. McDowell never liked to do that because he liked to have some control over where the ball was going and didn't feel comfortable just throwing it down the middle and hoping that it moves to the corners, "which is what those guys do."

 

I decided to come at him from left field and ask if he regrets flipping off the fans at Yankee Stadium.

 

"Not really. Everyone's known for a few things in life, and I guess that's one of them for me. But the funny part about that is that it was a Tuesday before old-timer's game, and a bunch of old Yankees were in town and we were talking about it. They had stories about everyone getting on the fans. Guidry had some great stories. And I wasn't the first. The fans understood it." Everyone with whom I've shared that anecdote has reveled in it: how appropriate for fans to embrace him after he gave them the bird!

 

McDowell says he has no regrets, only disappointments. He wishes he could've done better against Toronto, that he'd won a World Series and lasted longer, but regret is not doing something you could've done and there were always circumstances that he had no control over but wishes he had. It's not an excuse; just an explanation. And when you're a pitcher, you come to understand that sometimes you do all you can and it's up to everyone else to carry the day for you.

 

Catch!

 

Near the end of our interview I ask him if he would mind having a catch with me as we talk. "I know it's not conventional for an interview, but..."

 

"Sure, I think we can do that," he says and goes into his truck to find two gloves. He puts on a catcher's mitt and lets me use a glove he used in the major leagues. We go over into the outfield, outside the foul lines, and start to toss the ball around. As he winds up to throw to me and I wind up to throw it back, I feel the oddest sensation. I'm playing catch with a Cy Young Award winner. He's a good guy. He tells me stories about pitchers yelling at umpires for not calling strikes, and when he gets animated, he spreads his arms out to illustrate his point. We're just talking now, not strictly for an interview but because we share a love of baseball. I ask him if he thinks divisional play and the Wild Card have "cheapened" the World Series. He says no, that it's great especially with all these teams because it gives more good teams a chance to compete. We talk about a few other things and round out the session.

 

We don't throw for a terribly long time, but it is enough to satisfy me that I have just had a special moment in my life. It is 3:30 when he has to go, as he has numerous kids coming in to collect a binder full of workout information he's prepared for them so that their bodies can be prepared for pitching. He gives me the ball we caught with and takes a picture with me, and then I am on my way home after thanking him. As I walk away, my mind turns to the first thing I said to Jack McDowell after I introduced myself. "So, on the way here, I was thinking about our meeting and how demonstrative I think it is of who we are. You've been retired since 1999 and I've been 'retired' in my own way since last summer, but you're coaching a baseball team and I am making time on a trip across the west coast that is not really for baseball consumption to interview a ballplayer. It always comes back to baseball for men like us, doesn't it?"

[NorthSideSox72]

Great stuff, GP.

 

In fact, I think when you write in this more journalistic format, you are an even better writer than your more clipped, sound byte style weekly pepper. This suits you better.

 

Nice view into the "real" Jack McDowell.

 

[Chisoxfn]

Tremendous piece Greg. You really have a talent when it comes to writing. That was just a very entertaining article that brought me back to just how much I love the game of baseball. That also sounds like one hell of an experience (getting to play catch with Black-Jack).

[Bubba Philips]

A Conversation with Jack McDowell

 

That was a great article.. If I could add anything would how he seem to inspire those players around him.. I remember one year his era for the first so many games was horrible but his win and loss record didn't reflect his high era.. You were in the games as long as jack McDowel was in the game. We can talk about Danks for example of not getting run support well it seemed that there was something about Mcdowell that inspired players around him to believe in himself.. I remember comparing him to a quarterback that could really get the most out of his team. I like the honesty of his description of the Twins organization and how they play the game using great fundamentals..

Edited July 11, 2008 by forrestg

[SoxFan1]

GP....that's f***ing awesome.

[Whitewashed in '05]

I echo everyone elses statements. This is really a great piece. I really enjoyed it. You're good at what you do.

[Middle Buffalo]

Very cool. By far, my favorite Sox player of all time.

[Soxbadger]

Really cool.

 

[greg775]

He starts to talk about pitch counts, and says that they are the "most overblown crock of crap, unbelievable and sickening."

 

Good conversation article. That actually could be a good new niche in the world of blogs, etc.

A person travels around and interviews some sports greats and writes it in that type of tone.

 

I'd love a discussion of pitch counts.

Jack McDowell classifies as an expert and I trust him on it.

He said Halladay is not his hero but the guy who "lets him" pitch deep.

I mean last night watching the Royals game you could just feel that Greinke and Mark "knew" they were about done because of the pitch counts.

In the eighth inning, Mark should have dug deep and finished the shutout.

Same with Greinke going 9.

But because of some fantasy pitch count idea, both guys knew they were finished.

In a mid summer night game, Mark B should have pitched a shutout last night.

Pitch counts and the idea behind pitch counts has negatively affected the game.

Kudos to you and Jack for pointing it out!

You should email your quote to sporting news and SI and Hawk and DJ and see if it gets some play. I'd love to hear Hawk, DJ discuss it!

 

 

[dasox24]

That's awesome! Incredible job.

[Pants Rowland]

In a mid summer night game, Mark B should have pitched a shutout last night.

 

If Paulie catches Ramirez's throw, he might have done so. Just saying. ;-)

[greg775]

I agree Pants, but I wonder if he'd have opened the ninth with the dreaded pitch count

over 110.

[Marky Mark]

That was really good. I usually don't like reading long posts, but that was well worth it. How bout putting up the picture you guys took together?

[Pants Rowland]

I agree Pants, but I wonder if he'd have opened the ninth with the dreaded pitch count

over 110.

 

I would have to say probably not but Buerhle is usually not one to shy away from a CG.

[Whitewashed in '05]

Good conversation article. That actually could be a good new niche in the world of blogs, etc.

A person travels around and interviews some sports greats and writes it in that type of tone.

 

I'd love a discussion of pitch counts.

Jack McDowell classifies as an expert and I trust him on it.

He said Halladay is not his hero but the guy who "lets him" pitch deep.

I mean last night watching the Royals game you could just feel that Greinke and Mark "knew" they were about done because of the pitch counts.

In the eighth inning, Mark should have dug deep and finished the shutout.

Same with Greinke going 9.

But because of some fantasy pitch count idea, both guys knew they were finished.

In a mid summer night game, Mark B should have pitched a shutout last night.

Pitch counts and the idea behind pitch counts has negatively affected the game.

Kudos to you and Jack for pointing it out!

You should email your quote to sporting news and SI and Hawk and DJ and see if it gets some play. I'd love to hear Hawk, DJ discuss it!

That's a good idea. At minimum I would like to hear what Hawk and DJ have to say. You should do it Pratt.

[Middle Buffalo]

That's a good idea. At minimum I would like to hear what Hawk and DJ have to say.

Hawk: "Yaz said the same thing in '65."

DJ:

[Dick Allen]

Nice job Pratt. Did you throw him a splitter?

[YASNY]

Excellent work, Gregory. I just sent in my list of 25 favorite Sox players. Sad to say, I forgot about Black Jack. He should've been on there.

[Gregory Pratt]

PICTURE:

 

http://s117.photobucket.com/albums/o56/Gre...nt=DSC03551.jpg

 

 

 

[WhiteSoxfan1986]

Great article, it's awesome that you got to talk to him.

 

I went and looked at the voting results for the Cy Young in 92 and 93 after reading that. I have to say that McDowell didn't deserve to win it either time. Besides wins, Johnson had better overall numbers in 93, and I thought Clemens should have won in 92. It was a complete joke that Eckersley won the MVP and the Cy Young that year.

[Dick Allen]

I really enjoyed the piece. One thing I would have loved to hear his response to when he talked about guys being babied,pitch counts. etc. would have been he wasn't exactly a poster boy as to why you shouldn't do those things. He was essentially done when he was 30. Maybe he would have had a second half to his career if he was monitored more closely. He probably wouldn't have cared. Guys that are as competitve as him like to finish what they start and get out of their own messes. Black Jack had as great of an attitude on the field as anyone who ever played.

[knightni]

It was a complete joke that Eckersley won the MVP and the Cy Young that year.

ESPN slobbed the A's proverbial knobs in the early '90s.

[Middle Buffalo]

I really enjoyed the piece. One thing I would have loved to hear his response to when he talked about guys being babied,pitch counts. etc. would have been he wasn't exactly a poster boy as to why you shouldn't do those things. He was essentially done when he was 30. Maybe he would have had a second half to his career if he was monitored more closely. He probably wouldn't have cared. Guys that are as competitve as him like to finish what they start and get out of their own messes. Black Jack had as great of an attitude on the field as anyone who ever played.

If I recall correctly, McDowell had hip or back problems at a very early stage of his career. I don't think it would have mattered if he threw a few less pitches or innings. He was basically destined to have a short career. Here's a portion of an interview on WSI regarding his hip problem.

 

"ML: After an impressive debut in 87 (Author’s Note: 4 games, 3-0 record, 1.98 ERA in 28 innings), you struggled the next two years. Didn’t you have some type of hip injury that really hurt you?

 

JM: "It wasn’t really a hip injury, and it may have been my fault for not explaining it better at the time. I was born with an arthritic hip. I’ve had it all my life and learned to play with it. I adjusted my mechanics for it. After my rookie season, the Sox tinkered with those mechanics and it did certain things to my motion. That caused me to start having some problems with the hip. I tried to adjust to what they wanted and I realize the coaches were only trying to help, but it wasn’t good for me.

 

I know they didn’t want me to hurt my arm but I also realized that I had to pitch the way I wanted. I’ve seen guys throw all kinds of different ways and that has nothing to do with who gets hurt. It happens. The best coaches are the ones who work with you on the mental aspects of the game not the physical. That’s what gets you to the majors and that’s why you win. The best coach I ever had was Rick Peterson. When the Sox let him go, it was a real shame." http://www.whitesoxinteractive.com/rwas/in...=11&id=2085

 

 

It's very similar to Kerry Wood having arm problems. I remember when he was very young, Steve Stone said he would have arm problems because of his release. It put too much strain on his arm.

 

As for the RJ vs McDowell argument for Cy Young in '93, numbers can sometimes be deceiving. I'm not saying RJ was unworthy, but McDowell was the type of guy who wasn't afraid to give up 4 runs if he was spotted a 5 run lead. http://www.baseball-reference.com/pi/gl.cg...ar=1993&t=p Of course, I'm a Sox fan, so I'm biased.

[southsider2k5]

PICTURE:

 

http://s117.photobucket.com/albums/o56/Gre...nt=DSC03551.jpg

 

6'5" and 5'6"

 

 

[Baines3]

Black Jack was a good pitcher. Excellent article, good work!