Don Baylor: on top of the world in Colorado

Ebony, August, 1996 by Walter Leavy

When you consider how Don Baylor earned the distinction that landed him in baseball's record books, its a wonder he doesn't have the disposition of a diva with a headache.

During a 19-year career as a player - in Baltimore, Oakland, Anaheim, New York City, Boston and Minnesota - whenever Baylor came to the Plate, you didn't know if he was going to get a hit or if he was going to be hit. Time and time again the former MVP was drilled with one 90-plus mile s per hour fastball after another. in fact, by the time he retired, he had endured the pain of 267 pitches, more than anyone else in the history of the game.

"When I was in the minor leagues, I probably was hit 11 or 12 times a year, and I attributed that to the belief that the control of the pitchers wasn't so good in the minors," Baylor says. "Then I go to the major leagues and end up getting hit 35 times in one year. I stood my ground. If the pitchers thought I was too close to the plate, they would begin to rim the ball inside. if a pitcher thinks he can intimidate you, then he's going to try to do so. But no matter bow hard they threw, they couldn't intimidate me. If I got hit, I just got hit."

That was then; this is now. just eight years removed from his playing days, the man who became a hit by being hit now has become an even bigger hit as manager of the Colorado Rockies. So big, in fact, that Baylor's name has become a household word in the Denver area since he led the team to the playoffs last year. And again his name was scribbled into the record books because no other expansion team had reached post-season play so quickly (three years of existence).

Previously, playoff territory hadn't been visited by an expansion team in less than eight years. Although the Rockies lost in the first round to the eventual World Series champion Atlanta Braves, some of that pain was soothed a bit when Baylor, one of only three African-American managers in the big leagues, was named the National League manager of the year.

In baseball (as in other major sports), by the time an expansion team does anything to distinguish itself, the team's first manager is long gone and no more than a footnote. But Baylor, the team's first and only manager, is on such solid ground that management was quick to give him a contract extension that'll keep him in the Rocky Mountain area for the next three years.

So what happened? How did this team sidestep the normal pitfalls and rank among the elite so much sooner than is usually expected? First, the Rockies hired Baylor, who management thought possessed "incredible leadership qualities." Then the top brass assured their new manager that they wanted to win as badly as he did - and they proved it by, in addition to trading for Dante Bichette, dipping into the free agent market to sign big-name stars like Ellis Burks, Andres Galarraga and Larry, Walker.

The consensus, though, agrees that it is Baylor who has been the foundation. After playing with the likes of Frank Robinson and Brooks Robinson, Baylor knows how to win. But more importantly, he brought an infectious winning attitude that rubbed off on the multimillionaire free agents and the youngsters who make the major-league minimum.

"The job that Don has done can be summed up in one word - terrific!" says Jerry D. McMorris, the owner of the Rockies. "Don is a man among men, and he's one of my best friends. When we brought him in, we already knew his leadership qualities were tremendous, but we quickly realized that we had somebody who is very, very special. He has been everything that I hoped he would be."

Perhaps what Baylor has been is as close to perfect as he can be. As a manager, the 6-foot-1, 225-pound former slugger is a combination of teacher and motivator. Unlike many of the dirt-kicking, arms-flailing, cooler-throwing managers, he has an unruffled demeanor. He may be quiet, easygoing and unassuming, but he exhibits real strength - physically and mentally. "Don is not very talkative and not very demonstrative, but he has the ability to relate to each player and get the most that their talent can offer," says Rockies second baseman Eric Young. "He's not the rah-rah type like [Los Angeles Dodgers manager] Tommy LaSorda, but what he does works effectively. He's fair, and that's all that a player can ask."

It was long before the sun began to set on Baylor's playing career when the desire to become a manager became evident. During a game in 1973, he remembers, while standing in the outfield, he was intrigued by the strategy being played out by Earl Weaver, manager of the Baltimore Orioles, and New York Yankees manager Billy Martin. From that point, he began taking mental - and written - notes to prepare himself to some day take control of a team.

But as Baylors playing days wound down, his situation became scarier than any 95 mph fastball whistling by his head. He realized that he might not get an opportunity to stay in the game - as a manager or coach. For Black managerial hopefuls, there has always been a Catch-22. A frequent excuse owners have used for not hiring Blacks is the reality that few have minor league managerial backgrounds. But until recently, Blacks weren't offered minor league jobs either. Even more galling is the fact that White candidates usually don't have to meet the same requirements.