Baseball Affairs

Every young fan's eye strays from time to time.

I hate that this logo is going to be outdated soon. (Image credit: Oakland Athletics/MLB)

1989 was the most conflicted baseball season of my life. My first love, my one true baseball love, the Kansas City Royals were spinning their wheels. They weren’t terrible, but they were coming off a third-place finish in 1988, 19.5 games back in the division.

They were also getting older and going through the first rebuild/transition I’d ever experienced as a young fan. A good portion of the 1985 championship team— Danny Jackson, Bud Black, Dan Quisenberry, Steve Balboni, Jim Sundberg, etc.— was long gone.

George Brett was 36, and had been moved across the diamond from 3B to 1B, which was really only a pit stop on his final destination to DH. Frank White was 38 and his numbers were dipping. Willie Wilson was still manning CF at age 33, and playing well, though he was missing more and more time due to injuries.

Naturally, as an immature young man, my eye began to wander. And across the country, the resurgent Oakland Athletics were demanding everyone’s full attention. Managed by Tony LaRussa and fueled by the Bash Brothers (Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire), the A’s had destroyed the AL West in 1988, reeling off 104 wins on the way to their first World Series appearance since their dominant run in the 70’s.

Unfortunately, Kirk Gibson walked off Game 1 of the World Series with one of the unlikeliest and iconic home runs in baseball history, setting the stage for a Dodgers upset in five games. I’d gone all-in on the A’s in the ’88 playoffs, and that defeat hurt. It took me a long time to stop holding it against Gibson personally.

But there was no need to worry. The A’s were loaded, and there was no reason to think they wouldn’t be right back in the frontrunner position in 1989. And this time I would be getting in on the ground floor from Opening Day.

You can call me disloyal, you can call me a fair-weather fan. All of that might be true. The only defense I can offer is that I was ten, and I wanted to root for a team that could win and win big. The A’s fit that bill, and there was very little not to like about them. If I was going to have a dalliance with another team, they were the obvious choice.

The Royals were still the team I had the most access to at that time, due to local coverage of road games. I also had limited access to Cardinals broadcasts, and the Braves and Cubs were featured on TBS and WGN respectively. All of those teams had their attractive traits, but I never gave them serious consideration.

The amount of air time the Braves and Cubs possessed was a nice selling point, but somewhat mitigated by the fact that we didn’t have cable. Plus, even though the Cubs would surprise a lot of people by winning the NL East in 1989, neither they nor the Braves had experienced much success in my lifetime. The Braves were two years away from going on one of the most dominant runs in MLB history, but up to that point they had been a doormat. What was the point of going with a backup team if they were worse than your main team?

And as much as I respected the Cardinals, I could never embrace them to that level. It would have been a step too far for my KC DNA. Not only that, but they were also entering into one of the few down periods in their franchise’s history, which took me back to the same problem I had with the hapless Cubs and Braves.

The A’s, meanwhile, had all the flash and glitz you would expect of a proper seductress. They had cool uniforms and beautiful kelly green caps with a yellow bill and white lettering. I promptly bought one and wore it everywhere with pride. I also had a Bash Bros. t-shirt that featured dramatic portraits of McGwire and Canseco in action.

It’s difficult to explain how big of a deal the Bash Brothers were to someone who didn’t experience it, especially now that both of their reputations are so tainted. Nowadays, Canseco is usually viewed as a sleazeball goof who will do anything for a buck or publicity. He regularly calls out other former players, including Mac, for their steroid abuse, while he admittedly used as much as anyone and often supplied his teammates.

McGwire is generally regarded more favorably. Yes, he initially denied his obvious steroid use before finally copping to it, leaving a permanent stain on what had been one of the most exciting events in modern baseball— his pursuit of Roger Maris’ single season HR record in 1998. That said, I, like many others, still have a certain amount of affection for Big Mac. I can’t excuse what he did, but I also can’t deny how much I enjoyed watching him play.

Mac probably supplanted George Brett as my favorite player when the latter entered the twilight stage of his career, and time has proven him to be the superior slugger of the Bash Brothers, steroids notwithstanding. Canseco, however, was arguably the better overall player in his prime. It’s just easy to lose sight of that with all the nonsense that continually surrounds him.

He wrote a gossip-filled tell-all book about playing in the PED era. He got knocked out in the first round by former NFL return man Vai Sikahema in a celebrity boxing match. He appeared on a season of Celebrity Apprentice with Donald Trump. He’s regularly been called out for sending his less-talented twin brother Ozzie to make public appearances for him. And all that’s happened since he hung up his cleats.

On the field, he may be best remembered for a blooper that occurred while playing for the Texas Rangers. Attempting to catch a deep fly ball at the warning track, he whiffed completely with his glove. The ball then bounced off the top of his head and over the wall for a home run. He also required Tommy John surgery after asking his manager to let him pitch during a lopsided loss and blowing out his elbow.

All of that, like the PED scandal, lay in the future in 1989. At that time, Canseco was a force. A year earlier, Canseco became the first player to ever join the 40-40 Club (40 HR/40 SB), leading the AL in HRs and RBIs on his way to winning the MVP award.

Canseco’s 1988 stats: .307/.391/.569, 42 HR, 124 RBI, 34 Doubles, 40 SB, .959 OPS, 170 OPS+

A broken wrist cost him the first half of the 1989 season, but he hit the ground running when he returned in the second half. In the meantime, McGwire picked up the slack. Clean shaven and baby-faced, sporting a much smaller and less impressive physique than he would possess during his steroid days in St. Louis, Mac still had power to spare.

He burst onto the scene in 1987, smacking 49 HRs on his way to the AL Rookie of the Year award, one year after Canseco had won it himself. In 1989, he hit 33 HR and 95 RBI, and the sight of him and Canseco emphatically bumping forearms after one of them had just launched a ball over the wall became so common that it was frequently emulated by little leaguers around the country. I know every team I played on did it.

If your arms aren’t as big as theirs, you have to do this just right or it can really sting. (Photo by Rich Pilling/MLB Photos via Getty Images)

The A’s were hardly just a two-man show though. Their starting rotation featured Dave Stewart— possibly the most intimidating presence on the mound since Bob Gibson— and Bob Welch and Mike Moore. The latter two lacked Stewart’s dominating stuff, but they were plucky pitchers who regularly finished around the 20-win mark.

The back of the bullpen was held down by Dennis Eckersley, arguably the greatest closer the game had ever seen at that point, despite the mistake he’d made against Gibson in the 1988 World Series. In 1988, he led the AL with 45 saves and won the Rolaids Relief Pitcher of the Year Award. In 1992, he recorded 51 saves and won both the AL Cy Young and MVP.

The rest of the lineup around the Bash Brothers wasn’t populated by slouches either. A 38-year-old Dave Parker— maybe the coolest player in MLB history— manned the DH spot, still wielding his trademark big bat. Dave Henderson patrolled CF, and underrated players like Tony Phillips (2B) and Carney Lansford (3B) held down key positions in the infield. Behind the plate, Terry Steinbach emerged as an All-Star catcher.

The cherry on top was a midseason trade to reacquire LF Rickey Henderson. Baseball’s all-time steal leader and maybe the best leadoff hitter ever, he was probably the top overall player on the team, though few of us acknowledged it at the time, blinded by the bombs being slugged by the Bash Brothers. He put them over the top and turned them into a true championship team.

So I made it official and formally announced the A’s as my second favorite team. (I use the term formally loosely. I didn’t hold a press conference or anything.) I was fully on board the Oakland bandwagon.

This is where the conflict comes in. Because something unexpected happened that summer. The Royals decided to get really good too. This didn’t come completely out of nowhere, but no one suspected before the season that they would put together their best year since 1985 and challenge the A’s for the division title. And to make it even harder on ten-year-old me, they were a really fun team to watch too.

Bret Saberhagen topped his fantastic 1985 season and won his second Cy Young award, posting a record of 23-6 with a 2.16 ERA. Mark Gubicza went 15-11 with a 3.04 ERA, and they were joined by an exciting rookie named Tom “Flash” Gordon. The future namesake of a Stephen King novel split his time between the bullpen and rotation, and ended up with a 17-9 record and 3.64 ERA.

On the position player side, the old mainstays of Brett, Wilson, and White were joined by a young core that appeared to be the future of baseball in Kansas City. Kevin Seitzer debuted in 1987, finishing as runner-up to McGwire in the Rookie of the Year race, and took over 3B from Brett. Danny Tartabull emerged as a slugger in RF in 1987 as well, but the most exciting development literally came out of left field.

Bo Jackson, perhaps the greatest athlete the world has ever seen, debuted in late 1986. He was the regular LF for the next two years, and he frequently made plays that defied logic and dazzled the eye, in addition to spending his offseason playing RB for the Los Angeles Raiders. But despite the highlights, Bo was a raw and wildly inconsistent baseball player.

That began to change in 1989. He still struck out too much, but he started putting everything else together and busted out in a big way, hitting 32 HR with 105 RBI and earning his first All-Star Game appearance. All of a sudden, the Royals were appointment viewing again.

Wringing my hands, I wavered back and forth throughout the season, trying to keep on top of the swings in momentum. It should have been a no-lose situation for me, but even then I think I realized that a championship would not be as sweet unless I was all-in. But still I couldn’t commit. Every morning, I checked the newspaper for the standings and previous night’s box scores. The fact that Oakland games often finished too late to be included in the next morning’s paper only made my efforts that much more frustrating.

The A’s were regularly featured on the NBC Game of the Week and ESPN, and the Royals were broadcast locally, so I did my best to watch as much as I could of both teams. Eventually, Oakland pulled away and won the AL West by 7 games, delivering a somewhat bittersweet division title. They went on to win the World Series by sweeping the San Francisco Giants, in a triumph made all the weirder by the major earthquake that struck before Game 3 and delayed the series by ten days.

The waters became less muddied the following year when the Royals plummeted down the standings and the A’s returned to their third straight World Series. Things did not go as planned, however, and they were swept by the upstart Reds, sending what could have been a dynasty out with a whimper.

The zenith of my own relationship with the A’s came one year later. The A’s were on a downward trajectory in 1991, and the core would be effectively dismantled in the years to come. They finished in fourth place that season, but that June my parents gave me Royals-A’s tickets for my birthday.

We took my best friend Brian with us, and I confess that it was a bit weird. It was the first time I’d ever gone to a Royals game to see the other team. Probably the only time, now that I think about it. During many lean years for the Royals, I often chose what game I wanted to attend based on my interest in the opponent, but that was the only time I ever actively rooted for them.

The A’s did not disappoint me. They won 9-3, chasing Royals starter Tom Gordon off the mound in the fourth. Jose Canseco hit a towering grand slam, to date the only grand slam I’ve ever witnessed in person, and I’m still not sure if the thing has ever landed. Mac went 1-4 with 2 RBI and a sacrifice fly. On the Royals side, I got to see George Brett hit another HR. Man, that guy always delivered.

Perhaps the weirdest part was seeing two long-time Royals in the A’s starting lineup. Willie Wilson went 1-3 playing CF for Oakland, and scored 3 runs. Jamie Quirk, a longtime backup in KC, got the start behind the plate for the A’s and went 1-5.

I still have a hard time processing this image. (Photo by Otto Greule Jr./Getty Images)

After that season, the A’s and I gradually drifted apart. It was a hell of a run, but it was never built for the long term. Unfortunately, the Royals weren’t exactly showing signs of life either. In fact, they were about to enter twenty years of futility, so I couldn’t be blamed for seeking another rebound.

I settled for the Colorado Rockies. On paper, Colorado made a lot more sense for me than Oakland. An expansion team that began play in 1993, they were geographically closer to Kansas City than any team except the Cardinals. They were also a National League team, which meant that they would not be competing directly against the Royals.

The catch was they were an expansion team, which meant they weren’t likely to be any good. As stated before, this kind of defeated the purpose of a backup team. By that point, I didn’t really care. Sure, I spent some time convincing myself that David Nied, the first selection in the expansion draft, would develop into an ace (he didn’t), but I quickly decided to focus on the good things the Rockies had going for them and not sweat the win-loss record.

Probably did not warrant that first pick. (CREDIT: STEPHEN DUNN/ALLSPORT)

And the Rockies did have some bats. Fueled by the altitude and thin air in Denver, the lineup that would come to be known as the Blake Street Bombers immediately became the best offensive show in baseball. I even got to see them in action in 1993.

My cousin Scott and I were in Denver helping our aunt and uncle move, and they treated us to a Rockies game. They were still playing in old Mile High Stadium at that point— I distinctly remember the big Bronco statue overlooking the stadium— and we were late. My uncle had to stop for a hot dog before we went to the game because he was too cheap to pay stadium prices. Who does that?

Then, once we got there, my overweight aunt nearly keeled over walking from the car to the gate in the thin air, slowing us down significantly. I don’t include this detail to shame her, but to convey how annoyed we were that we missed the entire first inning, which included doubles by Sammy Sosa and Mark Grace. The Cubs were already up 2-0 by the time we got to our seats.

Sosa ended up going 6-6 that night, and the Cubs won a typical Mile High slugfest, 11-8. Dante Bichette, Andres Galarraga, and Eric Young all put up good numbers for the Rockies, but what I remember most, aside from the hot dog fiasco and my aunt’s near-death experience, was the drunk a few rows behind us. He was convinced the full moon was Jupiter and occasionally let out a loud cheer for the Seahawks. Hilarious, and also an effective anti-drinking PSA.

The Rockies made their first playoff appearance in 1995, after acquiring Larry Walker, and they had a memorable run to the World Series in 2007. My wife and I watched them host the Mariners during a trip to Colorado in 2018, and I have to say that Coors Field is a beautiful park. I still have a soft spot for the Rockies, but as with the A’s, I had long since moved on.

I’m a one-team man now, as all adults probably should be, but I don’t feel ashamed of my youthful carousing. Ultimately, it made me an even stronger Royals fan. Fanhood is like any relationship that way.

I’ve always thought it was weird when people marry their high school sweethearts. I’m sure there are exceptions to the rule, but how can you know what you have is so great if you’ve never experienced anything else?

In love and baseball, sometimes you have to step outside your comfort zone and play the field.

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