8703030515
DETROIT FREE PRESS
871227
Sunday, December 27, 1987
METRO FINAL
1E
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1987, Detroit Free Press
TRAMMELL: MICHIGAN'S BEST '87 SHORTSTOP WAS BORN FOR GLORY
Didn't we all want to play shortstop? Wasn't that the position we lusted
after when we met as kids at the ballfield? Pitching was OK. Catching was for
fat kids. But a shortstop moved. Dive to the left. Dive to the right. Leap,
catch, stab, grab, roll, twist, flip, fire. Mr. Defense. The attorney general
of fielders.
Few of us were born for that role. Alan Trammell was. "I always played
shortstop," he admits, "even as a kid. People say to me, you're 29, you could
play five more years then stick around five more as a designated hitter. But
that's not me. If I can't play shortstop, I won't play baseball. I'll
retire."
Understood. Here is Prince Charles and the throne. Hemingway and a
typewriter. A job of destiny. You can picture Trammell in Little League, high
school, the minors, getting better and better, but always there, that magic
spot between second and third, dirt stains on his knees, hair matted with
sweat. Shortstop. Center of the action. Where we all wanted to be.
Perhaps that is why, in Trammell's finest season yet for the Detroit
Tigers, the people in this state have chosen him as their favorite, Michigan's
Best '87. Is there anything more enviable than a man who plays shortstop for
a living?
Here are some Alan Trammell snapshots: crashing to earth, spearing the ball,
firing to first. Or crouching at the plate, whacking the pitch, loping around
the bases as it clunks in the bleachers. A tribute to this boyish-faced
Californian is that you cannot decide which half of the inning you prefer to
see him in, top or bottom. Surely his hard-smash grounder that won the
next-to-last game of the season in the 12th inning -- went between the legs
of Manny Lee, the Toronto Blue Jays shortstop, with the bases loaded -- was a
memory we will not forget. But the night before he had raced up the middle,
pounced on a ball and flipped backhanded to Lou Whitaker for a gorgeous double
play -- and 45,000 hearts went pit-a-pat.
"It really was some season," says Trammell now, from his home near San
Diego. Sure was. More than 200 hits. A championship on the last day of the
season. He finished second in the MVP voting to George Bell, despite his
excellent numbers (.343, 28 homers, 105 RBIs). But that could hardly be
considered a setback.
Here is a guy who two years ago would choke when reporters approached
him. "What do you want to talk to me for?" he would say. Elbow and shoulder
problems had affected his game, and there were whispers he might never be the
player he once was. His confidence was at low ebb. The Tigers faltered.
Things turned around. In a big way. It seems no accident that the last
time Trammell had a season this good was the last time the Tigers did -- 1984.
"He's extremely important to this team," Jack Morris, no slouch himself,
would say all during the year. In fact, when you consider who really took over
the leadership role vacated by Lance Parrish this season, the answer is
Trammell -- who also inherited his cleanup spot in the batting order. Sure,
Darrell Evans was the elder statesman. And Kirk Gibson was the dynamite. But
Trammell was the man doing it on the field. And that's where most players take
their cues. The Tigers left spring training uncertain about their muscles. By
September, they were almost cocky.
Trammell had a lot to do with that.
Was there ever something you did as a player," he is asked, "that made
you say, 'Wow. That was special'?"
"Not really one play. . . . " he says. "I do remember in the early years
of my career, Thurman Munson of the Yankees used to come after me trying to
break up the double plays. He'd be running towards second and he'd yell, 'Here
I come, kid! Look out, kid! Watch out, kid!' I think he did it because he
liked me. He was testing me. That was special. I'm always gonna remember
playing against him."
"Did you get him out anyhow?"
"Oh yes," he says.
Oh yes. No question there. Trammell gets them out. And lately he knocks them
out. But it was more than hitting and more than fielding that carved his
corner in Detroit's heart. Call it the total package, the little kid look, the
thinning hair that never seems combed (even when it's combed), the
relationship he has with the fans, honest, blue-collar, which led them to
scream "M- V-P!" during every crucial at-bat of that final crucial series.
"I consider myself a regular guy," says Trammell. "I don't try to be too
big for anybody. I just look at myself as a well- rounded athlete. Nothing
exceptional."
There was a moment during this season when Trammell passed out cigars in
the Toronto clubhouse, a father for the third time. And there was a moment,
when, soaked with champagne, he tried to do a TV interview after the Tigers
had won the AL East. His voice was gone, a mere rasp from screaming. Earlier
in the day, his wife had surprised him by flying in from California with their
newborn daughter, Jade Lynn. I remember watching Trammell then, rubbing
champagne from his eyes, croaking in the camera: "This is great! This is so
great," and thinking, at that moment, here was a guy who really had it all.
Of course, none of us has it all. The Tigers were knocked out of the
playoffs. Trammell finished second in that MVP voting. Already this winter, he
has witnessed the departure of his close friend and teammate, Dan Petry, who
was traded to the California Angels after nine years with Detroit. "We were
drafted together, we played in the minors together," says Trammell. "He's the
first part of our 'nucleus' to get traded. I'm gonna be 30 next year. You
wonder how long we'll all stay together. Sooner or later. . . ."
That day will come. No hurry, thank you. Right now, Detroit is quite happy
with old No. 3. There is nothing glamorous about him (in fact, I always
picture Trammell in his Lakers T-shirt, thigh-length underwear, rolling on the
clubhouse floor, doing stretching exercises. Not quite Prince Rainier).
Ah, but so what? A favorite is as a favorite does. And this year, the
favorite did the following: came back from doubt, recycled himself, took over
the reins and helped an unlikely team to an unlikely place. He had a hungry
bat, and a magic glove, and each time he trotted out, there was a familiar
feeling of confidence. Why not? Alan Trammell is doing that which we all
wanted to do back when our knees were skinned and our shoelaces came untied
for no particular reason. He is the shortstop.
And damn if he isn't the best.
The voting
The final results in the Free Press readers' balloting for Michigan's Best '87
(based on 2,031 votes):
FIGURE VOTE PCT
1. Alan Trammell 327 16.1
2. Jacques Demers 208 10.2
3. Jim Abbott 200 9.8
4. Steve Yzerman 193 9.5
5. Meredith McGrath 126 6.2
6. Mike Yellen 109 5.4
7. Lorenzo White 97 4.8
8. George Perles 96 4.7
8. Jim Harkema 96 4.7
10. Isiah Thomas 73 3.6
11. Jamie Morris 72 3.5
12. Sparky Anderson 56 2.8
13. Thomas Hearns 44 2.2
14. Matt Nokes 41 2.0
15. Don Canham 31 1.5
15. Dave DenBraber 31 1.5
17. Herb Grenke 27 1.3
18. Chuck Daly 26 1.3
19. Kevin Miller 25 1.2
20. Dena Head 23 1.1
20. Bill Lajoie 23 1.1
22. Doyle Alexander 20 1.0
22. C. Cunningham 20 1.0
22. Adrian Dantley 20 1.0
25. Charlie Coles 18 0.9
26. Bob Kaiser 17 0.8
27. Mark Macon 9 0.4
28. Chuck Sylvester 3 0.1
NAMELIST;SPORTS;MICHIGAN;BEST;CONTEST;RESULT