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Morgan's road continues
© St. Petersburg Times, PHOENIX -- It appeared as if the road would stretch on forever. And, somehow, that seemed okay. Because so too had the journey. Mike Morgan was driving through the desert in the black of an October night. The relief pitcher had just returned on a charter flight from Atlanta where the Diamondbacks had beaten the Braves in the NL Championship Series. Twenty-three years and four months after his debut in a major-league uniform, Morgan was going to the World Series. And now, without a wink of rest, he was cruising down a quiet highway because he felt absolutely certain he should share the moment with his father. Morgan is 42 years old and well beyond his prime. At least, well beyond those seasons that pass for his prime. Morgan always has been a serviceable pitcher, occasionally a good pitcher and, for a spell there, a very promising pitcher. But he has never, in a career that spans the 1970s, '80s, '90s and a new millennium, been a great pitcher. Morgan was the fourth pick in the 1978 amateur draft. Selected ahead of him were Bob Horner, Lloyd Moseby and Hubie Brooks. Those three had major-league careers ranging from 10 to 15 years. And not one has played since '94. The day he was drafted, Morgan awoke in his friend's garage. This was where he had landed after a night of celebration following his high school graduation. A week later, the 18-year-old was pitching in the big leagues. Six months later, Diamondbacks closer Byung-Hyun Kim was born. The Athletics were a frightful franchise at the time and owner Charlie Finley was desperate for a drawing card. Morgan was sent directly to the majors and, before a packed stadium in Oakland, pitched a complete game in a 3-0 loss to the Orioles. It was the first day in a career that has been unlike any other. Morgan has pitched for 12 teams in the big leagues, a record unsurpassed (and probably unenvied) in baseball or any other major sport. He jokes that there is not a player in the majors who has not been his teammate at one time or another. "Guys like Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken, guys who have played their whole career in one place, I envy them dearly," Morgan said. "But that's not the way it was meant for me. Mike Morgan's career was meant to be spent with 12 teams. Have fun, will travel." He makes light of his starring role as baseball's greatest vagabond, but there is an undercurrent of regret to his words. Had he not been rushed to the majors, how different would his career have been? At the time he was drafted, Morgan knew how to throw two pitches -- a fastball and a change-up. His father, Henry, had insisted that Mike not throw any breaking pitches as a youngster for fear of damaging his arm, which probably explains why he still is throwing today. But as a teenager, Morgan was ill-prepared to face major-league hitters and went 2-13 for the Athletics during his first two seasons. Over the next five years, he would be traded twice and bounce around the minors. "I wonder sometimes what I might have accomplished," said Morgan, who has a career record of 140-185. "But then I think maybe I wouldn't have survived if I started in the minors. Maybe, as an 18-year-old, I would have been homesick riding buses in small towns. Maybe I would have called my dad and said, "The heck with this, I'm coming home to lay tile with you.' "What I do know, if I wasn't rushed, you could wipe out 30 or 40 losses right off the back of my bubblegum card." Morgan knows better. His father never would have allowed him to quit so easily. Henry Morgan was a tile setter in Las Vegas who tried to teach his son that it was, indeed, possible for a dedicated man to work eight days a week. It is his father's spirit that runs through Morgan today and that is why he immediately turned his truck toward Nevada when the charter flight arrived home from Atlanta. After 24 premature finishes to 24 seasons, Morgan had a World Series to catch. But first he was going to stop by the grave of a man buried in a Diamondbacks uniform. "I'm going to go back to the desert where he is resting and say, "Pops, I made it to the World Series,' " Morgan said. A week from Thursday will be the one-year anniversary of his father's death. They had been talking on the phone just after the end of last season when Henry told his son of his recent chest pains. He promised Mike he would follow through on doctor's appointments and they agreed to talk again. Days later, Mike was on a hunting trip in the mountains of Utah when he saw a truck's headlights winding through a snow storm at night. The lights crept closer and closer until they reached his campsite. When his wife Kassie stepped out, her face was streaked with tears. "It's your father," she said. Morgan drove down the mountain, chartered a plane, and was by Henry's side at the end. His father implored him to take care of his mother, brother and sister and Morgan has complied by purchasing homes for all of them. At this point, it would be emotionally gripping to portray the World Series as the missing ingredient in Morgan's life. It would also be false. The Series has been a goal, maybe a quest, but it was not required to make Morgan's life complete. He loves his job. He loves his wife and two daughters. He repeatedly says he loves life and how can a few baseball games alter that? "There are times when I'm driving down the highway and I'll see some Little League kids playing and I'll get out and throw batting practice for them," Morgan said. "They have no idea who I am, but that doesn't matter. I love this game, I love life in general." Morgan has no plans to retire soon. Or ever, for that matter. He jokes about developing a palm ball that he will begin using in games in 2010. He jokes about it so much, you wonder if it really is a joke. "I don't know that I'll ever retire," Morgan said. "They're going to have to force me out. They'll have to take my uniform away before I stop." It's that kind of thinking that has kept Morgan in the game longer than any other active player. Longer than half the major-league ballparks. Fourteen stadiums have closed and 18 have opened during his career. But even a man with Morgan's dedication knows there is a proper moment for everything. Driving toward his father's grave, the hour has turned to 5 a.m. and there is still much road ahead. Morgan decides to turn around and return home before he falls asleep at the wheel. When the Series is over, he said, he will drive back into the desert for a visit with his father. Mike Morgan has waited 24 years for this. He is in no hurry.
 © 2006 • All Rights Reserved • St. Petersburg Times
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Times columns today Mary Jo Melone Jan Glidewell Darrell Fry John Romano |
