Why I feel bad about Denny McLain

Denny McLain is in trouble again. He was arrested yesterday, posted bail and is out until he has to appear in court. Much against my better judgment, I find myself sad about this.

40 years ago, McLain was the toast of all of baseball. He had a season pitchers only dream of, winning 31 and helping the Tigers to their first AL title in 23 years. In the World Series, he won one game as Detroit rallied from a 3-1 deficit for a thrilling win. I was 15 at the time and can remember every game I saw in person that year.

After that season, McLain had one more good year before falling flat on his face. His misdeeds are too many to recount here. Let's just say he fell out of grace damn near as fast as he rose to the limelight. Eventually, he screwed up enough to earn a couple of prison sentences and now weighs almostr twice as much as he did in his heyday.

From all reports, it was all his fault. He made bad choices, was way too impressed with himself and got what he deserved.

So why do I feel bad about all this? McLain had a great skill. Not only was he a terrific pitcher for 3-4 years and he seemed to respect his opponents, too. He was also a good showman. On days when he was not the starting pitcher, he used to hit fungoes to outfielders before the game. A couple of these flies would always end up in the lower deck in left field where us kids would scramble over each other to try to get a ball. (Eventually, he did this so much the cheap Tigers used to charge him for each ball that went into the stands. McLain said he was happy to pay the bill, probably a buck or two oer ball. We loved him even more for that but of insurgency.)

McLain was like a very good performer who didn't take his work seriously. No matter what your field is, your ornate skill will start to fail you. At that point, it is how you adjust to the situation that will make the difference if you stay employed. And it doesn't matter what field you're in. If you don't adjust, you'll eventually get left behind. And that's what happened to McLain.

But it didn't have to be. McLain could have adjusted and had a long career. He could have been Frank Tanana -- a bullet thrower who hurt his arm and resurrected his career as a junkball artist, finishing with 240 career wins. (McLain ended with 131.)

The local, modern version of this, by the way, is Livan Hernandez. There are high school kids who throw harder than him. But Hernandez spots his pitches well, stays out of danger zones and is now 3-0 for the Twins.

At the time when he should have been remembered fondly, most people just shake their head sadly when McLain's name is mentioned.

In my private memory bank, McLain will always be the slim guy with the great arm who once caught a Boog Powell line drive and turned it into a triple play. In that bank, he will be the guy served up the memorable home run to Mickey Mantle on his last at-bat at Tiger Stadium. (But only after his team had a 6-1 lead. He wasn't that philanthropic. Sentiment has its limits) There are several other entries as well.

However, those joyous remembrances are offset by the sad reality of what McLain became. Guys with that kind of skill who are now 64 years old should be celebrated, not bemoaned. Damn him for wasting that talent.