98 CARDINALS MAGAZINE @CardsMagazine
Hernandez is making his major league debut,
on Aug. 30, 1974, at Candlestick, the same
ballpark where he’d first met Musial and
Boyer 11 years earlier. His mom and dad
are in the stands to watch their youngest son
collect his first major league hit, a single, and
his first RBI.
‘WHAT ARE YOU POUTIN’ ABOUT?’
Part II of the book (“Get to Work”)
carries perspective from Hernandez the Mets
broadcaster, who had told readers back in
the introduction that he would write about
how his development as a young player has
affected the way he sees the game today. For
starters, he has a problem with pace of play.
Those observations are balanced with
insight from Hernandez the budding big-
league Cardinal, reeling from a demotion to
the minors in 1975 (Tulsa manager Boyer
helped him get his swing back) and then
recovering from a benching in the majors in
’76 to finish with a flourish.
The Cardinals didn’t do so well that season,
however. They lost 90 games for the first time
since 1916, which spelled the end for manager
Red Schoendienst after a record 12-year run
on the job. “I liked Red,” Hernandez writes,
“and my struggling first half of the year hadn’t
made things easier for him. Despite that,
he’d kept his word, inserting me into the
lineup the second half of the season. He’d
been yet another angel on my shoulder, and
I was sorry to see him go.”
Red had benched Hernandez that May, in
favor of a Ron Fairly/Reggie Smith platoon
at first base because the 22-year-old was
batting just .178. Hernandez tells a story of
when Brock, a 37-year-old veteran, took the
initiative to give his much younger teammate
much-needed counsel.
“I remember one night when I was down at
the end of the bench, moping after a pinch-hit
strikeout,” Hernandez writes. “So here came
Lou Brock, taking a seat next to me, basically
telling me to stop being such a prima donna.
But it was Lou Brock, so he didn’t put it that
way. Instead he very gently said:
What the hell are you poutin’ about? No
one’s gonna feel sorry for you. You getting mad
and feeling sorry for yourself? Who’s making
you mad? You see that guy on the mound? He’s
Keith Hernandez just wanted to listen to
some rock ’n’ roll. He should’ve known that
wouldn’t be music to Bob Gibson’s ears.
Hernandez tells a story in his new book
of attending a party Reggie Smith and his
wife threw at their apartment early in the
1975 season. Gibson, then 39 and in his
final year of 17 in the majors, was among
the guests. Hernandez was just 21, having
recently made his first Opening Day roster.
As Hernandez listened to the jazz and
R&B tunes filling the room, he chatted
with a lady friend, who suggested he dash
back to his apartment to grab some of his
albums for a change of pace. Hernandez
was game. He eagerly returned with about
20 of his favorites – surely Pink Floyd’s
“Dark Side of the Moon” would have been
among his collection. (Earlier in the book,
Hernandez acknowledged it was a must-
listen whenever he’d smoked something
stronger than a cigarette.)
“Well, Gibson noticed me and my stack
of LPs as I came through the door,” writes
Hernandez, “and gave me a look that said,
Looks like you’re crowding the plate, young
man. Ask any National League batter
who played between 1959 and 1975 and
they will tell you that is not a good thing.
So, very gently, I laid the albums by the
front door, vowing never again to attempt
to hijack the music at someone else’s
shindig.”
The night was far from over. Later,
when Hernandez was sitting on the floor
and minding his own business, someone
approached and asked him to dance. It was
Gibson’s wife-to-be.
“Please, God, no, I thought,” Hernandez
writes. “But she said, ‘C’mon, Keith,’ and
pulled me up off the floor. So there I was
sweating bullets – the most uncomfortable
I have ever been in my life – dancing with
this beautiful woman while her fiance,
one Bob Gibson, looked on from across
the room. Not good. Can’t she just choose
someone else?”
Hernandez recalls the song going onfor what seemed an eternity. When it was
finally over, he thanked his dance partner
and quickly went back to his spot on the
floor, “and as far away from Gibson as
possible.”
There would be other encounters in
’75. Early in the season, Hernandez had
developed a small blister on his finger and
was taping it in the trainer’s room when
Gibson walked in. He shouted at the
“rook” to get out, and that he’d kick his
butt if he caught him in there again.
“As quickly as possible, I grabbed a roll
of tape, a box of Band-Aids, and an aerosol
can of Tuf-Skin, and got the hell out of
there,” Hernandez writes, “never to return
to the trainer’s room that season.”
That September, on Hernandez’s first
day back in the bigs after a trip down to
Triple-A Tulsa, a reporter stopped him
in the dugout for a few questions. The
pitchers already were on the field taking
batting practice, including Gibson, who
was behind the cage. And, Hernandez
writes, he was yelling:
“There you are, Hernandez, always
talking! Talk, talk, talk! Why don’t you
just shut up and get your rookie (butt) out
here to shag some balls!”
While Hernandez writes that Gibson
was “especially intimidating” toward him,
he says he understands why after having
read Gibson’s book, “From Ghetto to
Glory,” which was released in 1968.
“So Gibson was tough with rookies like
me and some of the others because that’s
what his brother had done with him,”
Hernandez writes. “And the more potential
a young player had, the tougher he would
be. It was a nurturing thing; at least, looking
back, that’s the way I take it.”
Curious how others saw Gibson in
his heyday? Be sure to look for the 2018
Cardinals Yearbook, Gibby’s Glory: 1968 and
the Year of the Pitcher, which celebrates the
Hall of Famer’s historic season and is due
out in July. (Visit cardinals.com/publications
for ordering information.)GROWING UP A CARDINAL
OUT OF TUNE WITH GIBBY