Cranky Gibson tends to his business

Tuesday, Aug. 5, 2003 | 9:41 a.m.

MLB snapshot

If it holds, Bonds will be the first in his league to win three slugging titles in a row since Philadelphia's Mike Schmidt (1980-82). San Francisco's Willie McCovey ('68-70) and Cincinnati's Frank Robinson ('60-62) are the other post-WW II players to do that.

His earned-run average is 3.30, top-10 in his league. But if the pattern continues and Zito finishes with a losing record, it will be his first for a season in his five-year pro career.

The first batter he faced, Jim Baxes, planted the baseball over the fence. The last player to get a hit off him, pinch-hitter Pete LaCock, bashed a grand slam in 1975.

"I knew it was time to quit," Bob Gibson said of LaCock, the son of TV game-show host Peter Marshall who only hit 26 other homers in nine seasons.

Gibson hit 26 home runs of his own, including two in World Series, during his stellar career.

Between Baxes' and LaCock's homers, however, he struck fear into the hearts of many hitters, to say nothing of the 3,117 he struck out, during a Hall of Fame run that started in 1959 for the St. Louis Cardinals.

His was an era when mound intimidation ruled, when Don Drysdale and Sandy Koufax, among others, didn't hesitate to throw high heaters inside to move hitters off the plate. Nolan Ryan took that baton by the horns.

At 67, Gibson still throws high hard ones.

He displayed the most steam 35 years ago, when he went 22-9. He completed 28 of the 34 games he started, shutting out 13 foes. His 1.12 earned-run average was the second-lowest since 1893 of a pitcher who had logged 300 innings.

Over a 92-inning stretch in 1968, he allowed only two runs.

Gibson lost Game 7 of that World Series, to Detroit, on two days' rest. He won Game 7s in '64 and '67. He was 251-174 in his career, with a 2.91 ERA, and he was inducted into the Hall in 1981.

He suffered broken bones -- Roberto Clemente lined a shot at his right fibula, breaking it, on July 15, 1967.

And he broke bones -- after Duke Snider took seventh place on the all-time home run list, with 370, on April 17, 1961, Gibson zinged one inside in Snider's next trip to the plate that broke Snider's elbow.

Gibson's fire hasn't dissipated. In February last year, after Miguel Sanchez allegedly cut off Gibson's vehicle in his own car in Gibson's hometown of Omaha, Gibson tracked Sanchez to a gas station.

According to police, a fight ensued. Gibson left the scene. For an interview with a local television station, Sanchez sported a bandage covering a cut above his left eye. Both men were cited for third-degree assault.

"(I've) never liked talking to the media before, (so I'm) certainly not going to do it now," Gibson told a reporter.

"I owe the public just one thing -- a good performance," he said on another occasion.

Gibson's bronze statue was unveiled outside Busch Stadium five years ago.

That statue should have been approached for comment Saturday, instead of the man whom the Sporting News ranked 31st on its list of the 100 greatest players, at the Stardust Pavilion.

Does he watch the game today? What does he think about hitters who charge the mound at a pitcher's slightest intention of throwing inside? What is the source of his abrasive demeanor?

What was it like playing for the Globetrotters in 1957-58?

Gibson accepted a basketball scholarship to Creighton, where he also played catcher, shortstop and outfielder on the baseball team.

Those were fantastic athletic achievements, considering he suffered from rickets and asthma, ailments that nearly killed him, in his youth in Omaha. A heart murmur required a doctor's permission to play ball.

That could give someone with something to prove to anyone, or everyone, a chip on his shoulder and some extra pop in his fastball, not to mention cross hairs on constant alert.

At a Play Ball autograph extravaganza at the Stardust, Whitey Ford, Lou Brock, Steve Carlton and others sat behind a long row of tables, signing memorabilia and generally pleasing a line of fans.

Cordoned off behind a line of black curtains, which split the pavilion in half, sat Gibson. Trouble lurked, as Gibson steamed about a promoter. A nearby handler believed it would not be wise to inquire about the Globetrotters.

"I'm not even going to do that," the handler said of simply asking.

Gibson, smiling, took a picture with someone and signed something. Then, frowning, he said to nobody in particular, "This is work." It did not appear that he was suffering from hand cramps.

A return trip 15 minutes later, after slinking by a few levels of security, found Gibson laughing away with Brock.

On one of the rare days that Brock rested, Aug. 14, 1971, Gibson threw the lone no-hitter of his career and also drove in three runs in Pittsburgh.

"The greatest game I've ever pitched, anywhere," he said after the game.

Saturday, Gibson mentioned something about Ted Sizemore jumping "so" high for a catch, and both Gibson and Brock howled about the memory.

Then, a pause. A writer introduced himself, and Gibson hesitatingly shook his hand, a smile turning into a frown, as he was asked for a moment or two, for comment about today's hitters and his magical '68 season.

"That's not what I came here to do."

He turned and abruptly headed for a 5:30 p.m. flight home to Omaha.

The mud is dubbed Lena Blackburne Rubbing Mud, as a tribute to the journeyman who managed the Chicago White Sox in 1928-29 and introduced the practice of rubbing mud on new baseballs.

Umpires first adopted it in June 1921, using a special clay that Blackburne, whose given name is Russell Aubrey, supplied for them from his New Jersey farm. It takes the shine off a new baseball, improving the grip without damaging its cover.

In 1930, after resigning from the White Sox, Blackburne began selling his Rubbing Mud, from the Delaware River, to the American League. The National League adopted it in the 1950s.

Blackburne died, at the age of 82, in 1968, when the Baseball Hall of Fame, in Cooperstown, N.Y., began featuring the mud in its own display. The mud has its own place in MLB's rules, too.

Blackburne left the mud business to boyhood friend John Haas, and its proprietors had shunned publicity until James W. Bintliff recently assumed control of the company.

The mud is available to all levels of baseball, and their umpires -- at $15 for 8 ounces, $25 for 16 ounces and $45 for 32 ounces -- at (856) 764-7501 or LBRubMud@aol.com.

Anyone in Mississippi want to compete against LBRubMud?

The Marlins were just swept by the Dodgers in Los Angeles, and McKeon altered his initial rah-rah attitude to blast his players behind closed doors. Since then, they are 41-21 and two games behind Philadelphia for the NL wild card.

Did Florida just start clicking, or did McKeon influence the turnaround?

"I don't want to take anything away from him, because it all started happening when he came over here," pitcher Josh Beckett told MLB.com. "I think he is a motivator, a little bit. He's been good for us, though. No doubt about it."

Rookie phenom Dontrelle Willis epitomizes the no-nonsense, give-it-to-me-straight attitude that McKeon adores.

"They've got to keep digging and keep pushing," McKeon said. "I'm from the old school, where we don't need a lot of publicity. We don't need no advertising or fanfare."

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