<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8502100038
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
851004
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Friday, October 04, 1985
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>
Photo
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1985, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
EVANS IS FINALLY HEARING THOSE THREE LITTLE WORDS
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
And now, three words about Darrell Evans.

  Home Run King.

  OK. So he doesn't have the title clinched yet -- there are still four
games left -- but he'll get it, as long as God makes little  green apples and
Piggy loves Kermit and somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, good things
come to those who wait.
  Because Evans has been waiting 38 years.
  And nobody deserves it more.
  This is a professional, a leader, a guy who'd keep an even keel in an
earthquake, who always faces the cameras, good or bad, who epitomizes the
words gentleman, dignity, grace.
  Which may explain  why even a few sports writers smiled Wednesday night
when Evans cracked his record-setting 40th homer of the year.
  It soared towards the seats of Tiger Stadium on a glorious arc. Gone. Out.
No questions  asked.
  One for the good guys. 
  Evans watched it go. He clenched his fists and raised them to his head,
then quickly pulled them back and finished running the bases.
  That, by the way, was  a big display of emotion.
  For Darrell Evans.
  Swat Man.Next-best thing to a flag 
  Now sure, it would be nicer if Detroit were celebrating another division
title right now.
  "I'd trade  this for that in a second," Evans said Wednesday night.
  But they're not. And with all the bad news on baseball's doorstep this
season, we shouldn't let Evans' feat get swept aside too easily.
  Tell the juries to take five. Put the lawyers on hold. Drugs. Money. Put
them aside, just for a moment.
  Let's remember  that a home run is still the biggest play in the biggest
sport in the  most sports-crazed country in the world.
  It is baseball's Stud Meter. One swing. Pow! The most macho you can get
while wearing a cap.
  And this season, at age 38, in a year that many predicted  he would simply
crust and fade away, Darrell Evans has more home runs than anybody. More than
Dale Murphy, Pedro Guerrero, Darryl Strawberry -- that whole pile of young
muscle.
  It has to be sweet,  because Evans came here under the toughest of
circumstances -- as the Tigers' first dip into million-dollar free agency.
  He was a rich curiosity, like a farmer bringing home a cherry-red
Corvette. Everyone expected fireworks. Instead, Evans hit just 16 home runs
and batted .232 last year. And he started this year in a terrible slump.
  There were whispers. What a waste. He's through. The Tigers had him all
but traded.
  And how did he handle it?
  Grace. Manners. Courage. You try being asked "What's the matter?" by a
dozen reporters every night. Or being told the team owner has called  you a
"bad investment".
  He never balked. Never bit back.
  He is a baseball player. He kept swinging.He'll keep the ball in play 
  The reporters were around him again Wednesday night, swarming him in the
hallway. He tried to get back to his locker. But every time he took a step,
there was another question. So he stood and answered them all, while his
teammates dressed.
  He had just become  the first man to hit 40 home runs in both leagues. How
did it feel?
  "Oh, it was great, really great," he said, "Running around those bases.
I'll never forget that."
  And you're 38 years old.
  "Yeah, but maybe you get better as you get older. I hope so, anyhow." 
  The obvious question. What did it all mean?
  "Well," he said, "I love this game.  All I want is to keep playing it.  I
really want to play longer. If this helps me get that chance, it's great."
  I love this game. Evans can say that, and you believe him. You really do.
In this age of cynicism, that may be the highest compliment you can give a
ballplayer.
  A fan returned the record home run ball to Evans. A reporter asked what
he'd do with it.
  "I don't know," he said. "I better not let my kids get hold of  it."
  "Yeah," someone remarked, "they'll wind up playing catch with it or
something."
  Evans laughed. Then he stopped laughing.
  "Well, actually," he said, "that's good. That's what ought to happen to
it."
  Kids playing ball. Daddy playing ball.
  Nice thought.
  Hopefully, in years to come, we'll remember it came from the Home Run King
of 1985.
  Three words about Darrell  Evans.
  He deserves it.
</BODY>
<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>

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