Batter up, chatter up: The demise of talkative catchers in baseball

Chatty catcher Gary Carter with the Montreal Expos

Going back to the nineteenth century, when Connie Mack was distracting batters by tipping bats and chirping small talk while catching with a fingerless, unpadded buckskin glove, creative catchers used whatever tactics they could get away with to break a batter’s concentration.

A hundred years later, National League catcher Gary Carter may have been the last of the breed. – Norman L. Macht 

Alas, The Kid was finally silent. Gary Carter, the noisiest of the chatty catchers during 17 years with Montreal, the Mets, and the Giants, took a vow of silence when he joined the Los Angeles Dodgers at the start of the 1991 season. “I no longer talk to distract hitters,” he admitted.

Carter smiled when it was suggested to him that he may be the last in the line of catchers whose chattering tactics distracted batters at the plate.

At 37, he had proven that he was not through as a player, having filled the full catching burden when first-string catcher Mike Scioscia was out with a hand injury. He was not ready to accept allusions to dinosaurs or other extinct species.

But, in fact, baseball may not see his like again.

Veteran Dwight Evans could not recall a single talkative catcher in the American League since he joined the Red Sox in 1972. “The only one who comes to mind,” he said, “is Carter in the 1986 World Series against the Mets.”

Reminded of Evans’s comment, Carter innocently said, “Well, we had been on a promotional trip together with our wives, so I naturally brought that up and talked about it while he was at bat.”

Asked if he could recall any hitters his chatter especially upset, Carter mentioned San Diego first baseman Steve Garvey. “The Senator, in his diplomatic way, would step out and say, ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk anymore.’

“I used to tell Ted Simmons how much I admired his work as a catcher, and go on about that, and finally he would say, ‘Okay, are we going to play ball or talk?’

“And Lenny Randle would ask the umpire to shut me up.”

One player who was not distracted was Pete Rose.  “He would talk just as much as I would at the plate,” Carter said. “Even while the pitcher was winding up.

One time the pitch was coming toward him and he said to me, ‘Watch this,” and got a base hit. Later he said, ‘See, I told you.’”

According to Von Hayes, Mets catcher Charlie O’Brien tried to follow Carter’s act.

“But the first time I walked up to bat with O’Brien catching, I said, ‘Hello, Pete,” purposely mistaking him for Seattle first baseman Pete O’Brien, and he didn’t have anything more to say to me.”

Joe Torre

The National League seems to have cornered the chatty catchers market. Hitters most often mentioned Joe Torre, Dave Rader, Steve Yeager and John Stearns.

“It was mostly just small talk,” said Torre. “Anything to break the hitter’s concentration. Stuff like ‘How’s the family?’ Willie Mays was one who did not like it. He just wanted to hurry up and play ball.

If I held back the sign he knew what I was doing. One time I was talking to him and he hit one out of the park while I was still talking, so it obviously did not bother him too much.”

Joe Morgan recalled Mets catcher John Stearns. “He always had something to say about my small feet, like ‘here comes the guy with the little bitty feet’ or ‘how do you get into shoes that size,’ stuff like that. He’d keep on chattering until I had to say, ‘Come on, John, I’m trying to hit.’”

Talkative Yankee Catchers

In the American League, apparently, the Yankees have a built-in soundtrack in the catchers’ pinstripes. Bill Dickey, Yogi Berra and Thurman Munson are recalled by old-timers as noisy catchers. In a World Series against the Dodgers, Berra got on Pee Wee Reese.

Reese never swung at a first pitch, so the Yankees threw one down the middle for strike one. Berra was yakking away as the pitcher threw another strike for an 0-2 count.

Reese was so upset he stepped out and told Berra, “Shut up or I’ll break this bat over your head.”

Yogi never quit. When he was a coach with the Mets and caught a few innings of a spring game, he chattered non-stop whenever anybody was in the batter’s box, and flipped a handful of dirt on the batter’s shoes just as the pitcher delivered the ball.

Kansas City Royals’ manager Hal McRae recalled Thurmon Munson as the last and worst of the breed. “Munson was always complaining: ‘It’s too hot to play . . . I’m in a slump’ . . . ‘I feel awful…’ stuff like that.

When I step in the box I want it quiet. But he never stopped talking, even when he gave the sign and the pitcher was winding up. I had to ask the umpire to shut him up. The ump didn’t want to hear that noise, either.”