Harvey Haddix Talks About Pitching
Left-hander Harvey Haddix is best known for the 12-inning perfect game he lost in the 13th, 1-0, to Milwaukee in 1959.
Less remembered is that he was the winning pitcher when Bill Mazeroski hit his walk-off home run in Game 7 of the 1960 World Series.
Haddix won 136 games in his 14 years (1952-1965) with the Cardinals, Reds, Pirates and Orioles. He became a pitching coach for five teams (1966-1984).
We met in a Pittsburgh hotel coffee shop during a Pirates reunion in June 1990 - By Norman L. Macht
The Tryout
I was a left-handed shortstop in high school, a pretty good hitter, living on a farm and playing semipro ball on Sundays around Springfield, Ohio, in 1943 when a Philadelphia Athletics scout said to me, “I’m going to write to Connie Mack about you.”
In the newspaper, I saw an item about a St. Louis Cardinals tryout camp at Columbus and I decided that I’d like to go see what they think of me. St. Louis had 22 farm clubs then. There were 350 of us. They put a number on your back and said, “Fill out your dope sheet.” I put down pitcher-first base-outfield.
They said, “Be a pitcher,” and scratched out the other two. This was nine a.m. I was sent down to the bullpen and stayed there until four p.m. They waved me in and said, “Only throw fastballs.” I threw about eight and the scout in charge said, “That’s enough. Can you come back tomorrow?”
I went back at nine the next day and it was the same thing. Hung around til four again, and he said, “Throw what the catcher calls.” I threw four or five fastballs and a few curves and he said, “That’s enough. Do you want to sign?”
I said, “No.”
Being an honest old country boy, I thought of that scout back home who had said he was going to tell Connie Mack about me. But I never heard from him again, so I went back and signed a Cardinals’ Columbus contract for $160 a month. This was 1947.
They said, “You’re going to Pocatello, Idaho.”
I said, “No, I’m not. That’s too far from home. You must have someplace else to send me.” After a few days they said, “You’re going to Winston-Salem, North Carolina,” and they gave me a railroad ticket and when I got to the train station I saw it said Lynchburg, Virginia, on it, another Cardinal farm.
I didn’t know if he had messed me up or what, and I had never been away from home on my own. No money in my pocket or nothing. Then I looked in the newspaper and saw those two teams were playing each other a pre-season exhibition game.
The Perfect Game
I went into the seventh inning with a no-hitter several times, never thought about it until I reached that point. In St. Louis I had one into the ninth. First man up, Richie Ashburn, lined a hit to right field. Then I had to struggle to hold my 2-0 lead. Winning is the name of the game, but the no-hitter part started to come into it for me after the seventh.
In the perfect game, I only went for the no-hitter in the ninth inning. I thought, as long as I’ve come this close, I’m going to go for it. It was in front of me on the scoreboard the whole time, but I had come that close before.
So I went for strikeouts, fanned two in the inning, then said, “Well, I’ve done it. Now I’ll go back to pitching my normal game. I don’t care.” The difference was not trying to strike guys out any more.
My normal way of pitching was: I don’t care if guys hit the ball, as long as they don’t get the good wood on it. I had to have enough in the ninth to stretch those guys out.
It’s a different mental attitude when you depart from your normal game, at least for me, and that’s why so many no-hitters are broken up in the eighth or ninth inning. The mental attitude has a lot to do with it.
Roberto Clemente
In Pittsburgh I was as close to Roberto Clemente as anybody. A fine guy. I liked him. He would not start a conversation, but if you wanted to talk with him, he would. We talked a lot on airplane rides and in spring training. He would not let you get close to him. He wanted his privacy, never went with our groups to dinner.
He went by himself. One day he came out and I laughed at him. He was rubbing a white suntan lotion all over him. He said, “You know why? You see so and so over there? He too black. You see me? Nice and tan.” Was he a hot dog? I haven’t seen a guy yet who didn’t like to show off his skills.
I was called a hot dog a lot of times; I could catch a ball behind my back and other ways. He did not want any attention.
Frank Robinson
I played with Frank Robinson at Cincinnati and coached for him at Cleveland. A very intense player and student of the game. In this age players want a pat on the back when they do something good.
He never wanted it and could not do it in the beginning. He was hardnosed and expected you to do your job. But he adjusted. Star players as managers don’t reach down to the little guys to make them happy.
Pitchers
There are no two pitchers alike. You can’t just stamp them out. As a pitching coach you see a lot of guys with great stuff who don’t put it all together. Don’t have the control or the mental attitude.
Guys with lesser stuff but the right mental attitude go farther. Attitude means how they apply themselves to their job, being willing to listen and make adjustments.
I did not want to manage. Very few pitchers become managers. Pitchers are concerned with themselves all the time. They think and act different. They don’t study the whole game like catchers or infielders.