Quietly Special - John Olerud - Statistical Data Included

Baseball Digest, Oct, 2001 by Jim Moore

John Olerud: Consistent Producer For The Mariners

Seattle first baseman continues to put up solid statistics despite little recognition for his contributions

A BOY AND HIS BEST FRIEND BUY some M-80s and ignite them in a pond, looking for an underwater explosion that will cause fish to go belly up.

But then headlights flash toward the pond. Thinking policemen were on the verge of a prankster bust, the boys dart into one of their homes and crawl around in darkness, hiding from their pursuers.

Now, name the most likely Seattle Mariner to have participated in this teenaged covert operation. Bret Boone?

Nope.

This Mariner does impressions of "Saturday Night Live" characters, tie dances up a storm, prompting one friend to say: "He's got moves like you wouldn't believe."

Freddy Garcia?

Wrong again.

His CD collection includes Rob Base, D.J. E-Z Rock and Public Enemy. On his first date with his future wife, he picks her up, pops Run-DMC into the cassette player and cranks it up, causing her to wonder what she was doing with him.

Mike Cameron?

Uh-uh.

He pulls out of his high school parking lot, right on his buddy's bumper, challenging him to get on it. His buddy bites, racing away in his Volkswagen Rabbit, drawing unfortunate attention, not to mention a speeding citation.

With John Olerud, you would expect the answers to be none of the above, not all of the above. He is the beige on your wall, the vanilla on your cone.

"He's been a straight arrow ever since I can remember," said Lynda Olerud, his mom.

If you don't know Olerud, he is grass growing, paint drying, a sports writer's graveyard, distributing unprovocative comments, combining ho-hum with humdrum and adding a dash of dull.

He is also one of the premier first basemen in the American League.

Starting in the All-Star game last July was the ultimate individual achievement for Olerud it s reality him, a vicarious thrill lot everyone else: Local kid playing in t Midsummer Classic in his hometown.

"The fact that it was in my hometown made it extra special," he said.

Olerud won the popularity contest, which mostly measures a player's contributions on the baseball field. He could have just as easily won if the fan vote were based on a person's qualifies.

"That's what I'm most proud of," said his father, John Olerud Sr.

LIVING A DREAM

If you're looking for dirt in baseball circles, John Rocker supplies dump trucks and will bring another load if you need one. With Olerud, there's nary a scoop.

"You won't find any" said Mike Carr, one of Olerud's best friends.

Olerud used to dream of days like this in his youth, playing catch with Carr or taking batting practice with John Sr., frequently in the Bennett Elementary School gym. It was near his home in Tam O'Shanter, the Bellevue (Washington) subdivision above the west side of Lake Sammamish.

After Olerud's dad threw tennis balls for them to hit, Carr and Olerud would go to the 7-Eleven on 164th Avenue, sip Big Gulps in the parking lot and talk situational baseball. They went on to play for Interlake High School, winning a state title in 1986, Olerud starring as a pitcher and hitter for the Saints.

The first time Interlake coach Bob Levitin saw Olerud, he noticed a skinny sophomore and something else: that swing.

Olerud's dad calls it "the Fred Couples look," syrupy good, a stroke that is his most identifiable characteristic. It also earned him a position on the Interlake golf team. Olerud reminds Carr of another gifted left-hander, Phil Mickelson.

"He's so smooth it's sickening," Carr said. "He'll give Phil a run on the senior tour."

SMOOTH OPERATOR

Smooth. The adjective always comes up in describing Olerud. But at Washington State University and Interlake, it by no means referred to his wav with the women.

As the Cougars gathered around coach Bobo Brayton after practice, some of Olerud's teammates were snickering. Word was that Olerud had been spotted downtown with a young woman.

"The monk has turned into a ladies' man," one Cougar said.

Turned out the girl was Erica, his little sister, a freshman at WSU.

"By no means was he a babe magnet," Carr said. "He was kind of quiet. He had better things to do. A lot of them (girls) are kicking themselves now."

Kelly Plaisted is not one of them. She survived the first-date rap session and became his wife in 1992. The following year, Olerud won the A.L. batting title, averaging .363 for Toronto.

Kelly and John used to be in Levitin's social studies class, Olerud sitting in the back of the room, Plaisted in front.

"Once in awhile, you'd see eye contact between them," Levitin said.

Olerud went to Washington State on a baseball scholarship, Plaisted to Arizona State on a volleyball/academic scholarship. They would reunite later.

In Pullman, Olerud was busy becoming the best college player in the country, going 15-0 on the mound and batting .464 his sophomore year.

As a pitcher, he was more like Jamie Moyer than Randy Johnson, his fastball topping out in the high 80s. But he hit his spots, varied speeds and even threw a knuckle-curve for strikes. He waffled on his future. His dad recognized his strongest asset.