Allentown Morning Call - July 10, 1980
Drug probers add 3 Phils to list
By Jack McCallum, Call Sports Writer
The names of three Philadelphia Phillie players have been added to the ongoing drug investigation of the Reading Phillie team physician, but the names of two others have been cleared to the satisfaction of the Berks County district attorney.
In a copyright story in yesterday's Reading Times. Steve Carlton. Randy Lerch and Larry Christenson were linked to the investigation of Dr. Patrick Mazza, who allegedly dispensed amphetamines without proper medical examinations.
The original story about the investigation of Mazza by the Pennsylvania Bureau of Drug Control broke in Tuesday's editions of the Trenton Times. That story said that Phillie players Pete Rose, Greg Luzinski, Mike Schmidt and Larry Bowa were being investigated in connection with Mazza.
However, Berks Dist. Atty. George Yatron. who would prosecute any crimes uncovered by the drug control office, said his information shows that Bowa and Schmidt have no connection, "even on an innocent basis.
"Whether or not they become part of the investigation to be questioned, I can't say," Yatron told The Morning Call. "You can't tell what line of questioning an investigation will take. But as far as I'm concerned, they are not officially a part of any investigation."
Bowa's wife Sheena also was mentioned by the Reading paper as having obtained prescriptions signed by Mazza. Yatron was asked if Bowa possibly had been connected in that way, and he said, "That's possible, but I don't know."
Yatron emphasized that he has no evidence that anyone has broken the law.
Mazza was not in his office when called yesterday afternoon. However, he said in an interview in the Courier-Post of Cherry Hill. N.J., that he has not been contacted by any Pennsylvania drug law enforcement official.
In other developments yesterday:
● Philadelphia Phillie owner Ruly Carpenter said drug officials and the commissioner of baseball have instructed no one in the organization to make any comment, including the players allegedly involved.
"The pennant race is the Number One priority right now," said Carpenter.
● The Reading Times yesterday named Robert Masley Jr. of Reading as the "runner" who filed the prescriptions signed by Mazza with an unnamed pharmacist in Reading. Masley's lather. Robert, is a close friend of several of the Phillie ballplayers.
● Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn is "making his own inquiry into the matter," according to a spokesman in his office. The i spokesman said that suspension and or a fine could be levied against a player found to have ' illicitly used drugs
● Dr. Phillip J. Marone. the Phillies' team physician, told the Philadelphia Bulletin that the Phillies do not keep amphetamines and that, to his knowledge, the players do not take them.
● Joe Buzas. owner of the Reading Phillies, continued to express confidence that none of his players was involved. The original Trenton Times story on Tuesday said that "several" Reading Phillie players were part of the investigation.
● A former member of the Reading Phillies, who last played for the team in 1978. said. "Absolutely no one on the team took amphetamines or anything like that.
"I never saw anyone," said John Guarnaccia, a former outfielder, "and you'd have to know something like that' I knew Dr. Mazza. and he just seemed like a real nice guy who stopped by once in a while.''
In the afternoon press conference at Veterans Stadium, Carpenter slammed the Trenton reporter. J. Stryker Meyer, naming Bowa and Schmidt in his story.
"Well, he's 2-for-4." said Carpenter. "As a batting average, it's not bad. but as a reporter, it doesn't seem too good."
The only public comments made by any of the players allegedly involved came from Schmidt and Rose before Tuesday night's All-Star Game in Los Angeles.
"I'm not even going to worry about it or give any second thoughts to it." said Schmidt. "It's the same old thing. Why should I worry about something I have no control over.
"My wife's back at home pregnant. She reads that. It's pathetic to think that — like that gets in the newspapers that has no business being there.”
Rose said he did not even know any doctors in Pennsylvania.
According to the Reading Times story yesterday, Masley, the alleged "runner." filled approximately seven prescriptions for Phillie players for two years, the last about 10 months ago. All were signed by Mazza. according to an unnamed pharmacist in the Reading story. The prescription was for Desoxyn, an amphetamine.
Buzas, the Reading Phillies' owner who lives in Center Valley, called Mazza a "quarterback-type doctor." who is used largely for referrals.
"He's actually at very few of our games." said Buzas of Mazza. who has been the team physician for 12 years. "He's a family doctor, so he just treats the players for colds and things like that. Anything more serious, and he makes a referral.
"I don't really know him that well, but he seems like a quiet, unassuming guy. I know he was very good friends with Danny Ozark (the Phillies' former manager)."
Buzas said that Mazza does not receive a paycheck from either the major league club or the Reading club. He is paid with free admittance to the Phillies' games at the Vet.
Phillies appear to have all the tools they need except spirit
By Jack McCallum, Call Sports Writer
The Philadelphia Phillies have 86 games remaining to either fall from our graces or once again make the climb to the top of the National League s Eastern Division that most observers ( including this one) said was improbable. But if there is a year for the improbable in the East, this is it.
Oh. for stability's sake we still have the Chicago Cubs, a mediocre franchise which probably will remain mediocre. But the rest is strangeness as a midseason glance reveals.
The New York Mets are a lot better than most thought they'd be, and the St. Louis Cardinals are a lot worse. Montreal was seen as a good team but one without a bench deep enough to keep it in first place; so there are the Expos in first place at midseason largely because of contributions from their bench. The Pittsburgh Pirates built an air of invincibility last season, but they are proving to be uninvincible this year, subject to the same maladies as everyone else – injuries, inconsistent relief pitching and, most surprising of all, problems within the family.
Which brings us to the Phillies, a team being held together with chicken wire, contact glue and the thundering voiceovers of their commando-style leader, George Dallas Green.
Despite injury problems to the pitching staff and starting eight, despite short but formidable slumps from Mike Schmidt and Greg Luzinski. despite a poor season by Bob Boone, despite a pitching staff that includes two Triple-A players, despite the usual sniping with the press and despite Green's unsubtle comments about the character of the team, the Phillies are only one game behind the Expos.
What are they doing there? Can they stay? And will Rhonda marry George?
The Phillies are there, first of all, because of a man named Steve, the subject of more unreciprocated national attention than Amelia Earhart. Through lengthy stories in all the Philadelphia newspapers and The New York Times, through a feature story in "Inside Sports," through an upcoming bylined story about him in "Sports Illustrated" by Tim McCarver. Steve Carlton continues to talk only with an unhittable slider. Take away Carlton's 14-4 record and the 41-35 Phillies are 27-31... which is California Angel territory.
Another reason the Phillies are there is their defense, which is at the very least sound at every position and considerably more than that in centerfield (Garry Maddox ), third base (Schmidt), second base (Manny Trillo) and shortstop (Larry Bowa ).
Another reason the Phillies are there is the power of Schmidt and those frequent orgies of game-winning hits that come between spells of strikeouts and popups. Like Mount St. Helens, no one knows when Mike Schmidt will erupt, but when he does, it will be awesome.
The question of whether the Phillies will stay close to the lead is more complicated and cannot be answered without tea leaves, tarot cards and a pact with the devil. But a little voice inside of me – perhaps the double-pepperoni pizza I had for lunch, but I don't think so – keeps saying, "No. no, they will not stay."
It won't be because of their starting eight. That group may have only this season and perhaps next season together, but it's still good enough. And, surprisingly, it may not be because of the starting pitching. If Nino Espinosa stays healthy, and if Dick Ruthven continues to pitch as he has recently, and if the proper psychiatrist can be found for Randy Lerch, the staff could be strong enough to complement the walking-on-water Carlton… particularly if the bullpen continues to function as it has.
And though the Phils' bench probably is not as strong as the Pirates' or the Expos', it will not kill the club, particularly not with Keith Moreland and Del Unser available offensively, or with John Vukovich, Ramon Aviles and Greg Gross available defensively. And, finally, Green's fire-and-brimstone style probably will win a few more games than Danny Ozark's hang-dog, hands off style.
But… there's something wrong there. The team just doesn't act like a winner. For one thing, the clubhouse is nearly silent after games; the only music to be heard is an Elvis Presley tune or two coming out of Tug McGraw's big box. This is not to suggest that Sister Sledge won the National League pennant for the Pittsburgh Pirates last season, but it is to suggest that a team moves according to a certain rhythm, and the Phillies just have no rhythm. It's as simple and as complex as that.
There do not seem to be any real leaders, either. Some lead by example – Pete Rose for one – but how many ballplayers who have ever lived can follow Rose's example, particularly the ultra-cool Phillies? The other veterans – Schmidt, Luzinski, Bowa, Boone – just do not seem leader types in the same way as Parker or Stargell are.
And then there is the persistent cold war with reporters. The casual observer perceives it as totally the press's problem, but it really isn't. It's as much a problem for the players as lor the reporters. The personality of any team is, in part, a creation of the media, and the Phillies if their current icicle style persists forever will come across negatively.
Besides Carlton – whose refusal to talk has cost the Phillies' untold publicity points over the years – Ron Reed isn't talking, citing past cases of reporters who have given up on him. Nino Espinosa isn't talking because, of all things, he is mad because reporters dared to print Green's comment that Espinosa would have to pitch with some pain. Presumably, the reporter is to edit out any negative references to any players, even if they come from as valid a source as the manager.
Dickie Noles is difficult with the press, too. He did not want to talk about, for example, his throwing a bat at a first-base umpire, claiming the press made "too big a deal out of it."
I don't think a big enough deal was made out of it.
Kevin Saucier, a young guy with some charisma, seems to be a victim of his environment. After touching off the Memorial Day riot by throwing at Bert Blyleven, Saucier testily refused to talk about it. Why not? It was a subject of some levity in the clubhouse despite the potentially serious consequences of the act. Among the press corps, in fact, there was a certain admiration for what Saucier did, which he should have been able to sense. But the icicle style spreads. If Steve Carlton or Ron Reed doesn't have to talk, neither do I. So there!
After most Phillies' games, the locker room resembles Three Mile Island at test time. It's empty. Players are falling all over each other to get out the door or into the inner sanctum of the player lounge, which is off-limits to the press. This is true not only of the unapproachables like Carlton but also some of the veterans who do deign to talk to the press when cornered.
It just isn't healthy. It just doesn't seem like the kind of loosey-goosey atmosphere that will win ballgames in August or in September or in the 11th inning in the playoff series.
But this could be an incorrect reading. Tracing the psyche of a team is an admittedly imprecise business, and maybe the Phillies, a team that stays within itself, can turn it on between the lines and turn it off inside the locker. Sounds improbable, but this has been an improbable season.
Old-time All-Stars never faced Hollywood hype
By Joseph Durso, Of The New York Times
LOS ANGELES – Roger Maris stood beneath the stone pillars of the Roman Forum on a set of Universal Studios, precisely where Kirk Douglas played the title role in the movie '"Spartacus" and not far from where Steve Garvey plays first base in Dodger Stadium.
Only in Hollywood, he reasoned. At least, only in Hollywood did the make-believe world of films collide with the make-believe world of baseball. And Tuesday night, the stars of both worlds mingled in the 51st midsummer gathering of the American and National League all-stars, a game that has grown into a spectacular in a sport that has grown into a marketing business.
"We are in a business of illusion," the tour guide at Universal explained, and Maris agreed.
So did Harry Dalton, the man who recast the Milwaukee Brewers into contenders. Dalton was aiming his analysis at baseball, but he phrased it in the lingo of movieland.
"This is the right setting," he said, meaning the razzle-dazzle surrounding everybody's stars, "Baseball is the eternal, original American drama."
Only in Hollywood would they have stacked the deck so outrageously for the drama in this All-Star Game. The American Leaguers, who won 12 of the first 16 games in the series, had lost 8 straight and 16 of the last 17. They were led by Earl Weaver, the James Cagney of the Baltimore Orioles, who was the manager the last time they won. But six of their eight pitchers were first-time performers as all-stars, and they took the field without such injured heavies as Jim Rice. George Brett and Paul Molitor.
They were classic underdogs and, if that wasn't enough drama for anybody's script department, the Dodgers supplied a cast of thousands.
On Sunday, they staged a mammoth old-timers' reunion as a prelude to the All-Star Game. They brought back Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Roy Campanella and all those other boys of Brooklyn summers. Joe DiMaggio, Willie Mays and Duke Snider joined arms while walking onstage from center field. Even Willie McCovey drew a standing ovation after knocking in a run for the San Francisco Giants in his final time at bat before making the last exit of his 22-year career.
On Monday, the stars of 1980 arrived for the third consecutive All-Star Roger Maris Mickey Game on the West Coast and the first in Dodger Stadium in 21 years. They were whisked to Universal City for a $100,000 evening with dinner for 1,700 served in the Spartacus courtyard, a few yards from the facades of the silent stagecoach towns of the cowboy flicks and not far from the amphitheater where Frank Sinatra was singing for the multitudes.
Finally, the main event got off to a clamorous start Tuesday night alongside the palm trees that fringe the bull pens of Dodger Stadium. Eight marching bands, dozens of Boy Scouts and hundreds of Disneyland characters filled the field before the game. And the Dodgers unveiled a new television scoreboard behind the left-field stands that carried commercials and instant replays in color.
For an encore? The ball game, of course.
Maris, standing where the Roman legions of the movie had paraded, looked a little unlikely in his crew haircut and white summer suit. This was 19 years after he had hit 61 home runs in one season for the New York Yankees and had broken, or at least bent. Babe Ruth's record. But then, he concluded, baseball looked a little unlikely in this setting, too.
"You're not surprised," he said, "not in California. This is what it's all about now. If they don't lose sight of the game itself, it's great. In 1961, instead of exploiting my home runs, and Mickey Mantle's, they did everything they could to downgrade them. They acted as though I was doing something wrong, poisoning the record books or something.
"Now they talk on the radio about the records set by Ruth and DiMaggio and Henry Aaron. But they rarely mention mine. Do you know what I have to show for the 61 home runs? Nothing, exactly nothing. Harvey Had-dix pitched 12 perfect innings once, and at least he got 12 beer mugs. But now they're promoting the game like hell.”
Nelson Doubleday and Fred Wilpon, who paid $21.1 million to buy the Mets last winter, appeared on the Roman street and were introduced to Maris. As if to prove his point about the evolution of the product, they promptly invited the old Yankees to attend the Mets' Old-Timers' Day in Shea Stadium in August.
"Even if you have to sit in a chair," Doubleday said, "and hit a couple of long ones, we'd love to have you."
"Your guys are really playing good baseball," Maris said, embracing the new spirit of extravagance. "My daughter's getting married the week before, but I'd like to come, if we can make it."
Ralph Kiner walked past in a red blazer and joined the majority opinion.
"This is a far cry from the pin stripes," he said, meaning baseball's proper past. "I like Christmas and the Fourth of July, but all this hoopla is great, as long as they don't trample on the basics."
"Baseball," Maris said, "is changing because everything else is changing. I used to spend my life going from the ball park to home, then home to the park. Today, these guys have a lot going for them."
Frankenstein's monster stalked Count Dracula on the cobblestones of the Forum. Six Roman soldiers raised trumpets to their lips and sounded flourishes. Carlton Fisk of the Boston Red Sox walked past in a yellow sports shirt and a wide smile, marveling at the business of illusion. Only in Hollywood.