Up, Up, and Away: The Kid, the Hawk, Rock, Vladi, Pedro, le Grand Orange, Youppi!, the Crazy Business of Baseball, and the Ill-fated but Unforgettable Montreal Expos (25 page)

“After everything that happened [in 1982] I went to Andre Dawson,” Raines told me in 2011. “I said to him, ‘Show me how to play.’ He’s not a guy who shares a lot of words. But to me it was just, ‘Show me the way. You don’t have to say anything. I’m never going to get in trouble again. I’m going to be a model citizen and I’m going to play the game the way you play the game. I’m going to come to the ballpark every day ready to play and play hard, just like you.’ And that’s what I did.”

Raines grew so close to Dawson that he often referred to him as his older brother. In 1983, Raines named his second son Andre—or “Little Hawk,” a nod to the nickname of his godfather, Andre Dawson. Meanwhile, Raines’ play rebounded that same year. He set career highs in runs scored (133) and stolen bases (90), and established himself as the team’s third superstar player alongside Dawson and Carter. The trick for the Expos would be to build the right supporting cast to complement those stars.

For all of Raines’ success later on, the Expos suffered for his off-year in ’82. Given how good Raines was in his rookie year, then every season from 1983 through 1987, it’s easy to imagine him winning two or three more games for the ’82 club. Still, that wasn’t
the biggest problem for a Montreal team that was supposed to be starting a dynasty. Erratic play or no, the Expos couldn’t keep Raines at second base as they intended after Scott’s release, and the alternatives were collectively terrible.

Francona shattered his knee after colliding with an outfield wall in St. Louis, knocking the Expos’ Plan B left fielder out for the year and forcing Raines back to the outfield. They tried Mike Gates at second for awhile, but he was Scott without the speed, hitting .231 with no power. On August 2, the Expos purchased Doug Flynn from the Rangers to plug the hole. Flynn couldn’t hit either, batting just .244 with no power himself, and somehow drawing only four walks in 58 games. All told, the seven non-Raines players who patrolled second base in 1982 hit .216 with no home runs in 533 at-bats.

Not that this was anything new. From 1974 through 1984, no team put up weaker numbers at any position than the Expos did at second base:

Put another way, during the eight-season span stretching from 1977 through 1984, the Expos’ primary second basemen hit a total of six home runs; from 1980 through 1984, they hit exactly
zero
.

It’s one thing for players with star potential to disappoint—that happens all the time. But it defies belief that McHale, Fanning, and the rest of the team’s decision makers put up with so much offensive incompetence for that long without fixing the shortfall. The problem wasn’t just one of neglect, however. Though they would lose plenty of superior players over the years, gift-wrapping second-base prospect Tony Bernazard to the White Sox after the 1980 season for a fistful of dryer lint proved to be—given both the timing and the alternatives left behind at second—one of the most harmful trades in franchise history. Trading fellow second-base prospect Tony Phillips for over-the-hill first baseman Willie Montanez that same year didn’t help either, though Phillips didn’t become a front-line player until later. Given how often the Expos nearly won division titles in the late ’70s and early ’80s, it’s no stretch to say that finding even average second basemen during that era might’ve changed the course of Expos history.

It wasn’t all bad for the Expos in ’82, though. An off-season trade that brought veteran first baseman Al Oliver from Texas yielded immediate dividends, as the All-Star led or tied for the National League lead in batting average, runs batted in, hits, and doubles. Despite his “Scoop” nickname, however, Oliver’s overall defence was ugly—his shoulder so badly hurt that he had to shot-put many of his throws, committing a staggering 19 errors in the process. Still, after years of searching for a potent left-handed bat to balance an overload of right-handed hitters, the Expos fared better with Oliver than they’d dared hope; the 35-year-old turned in the best offensive season of his long, impressive career. Meanwhile, in his first season as an everyday player, third baseman Tim Wallach blasted 28 homers, knocked in 97 runs, and played solid defence. Carter was a monster as usual, launching 29 home runs and winning his third straight Gold Glove. Jeff Reardon
thrived out of the bullpen, firing 109 innings with a 2.06 ERA. Finally, Steve Rogers delivered the best season of his brilliant career, leading the league with a 2.40 ERA over 277 innings, only to lose a Cy Young Award he deserved because Steve Carlton won four more games. (Three decades later, too many sportswriters still overrate the value of wins in these situations, failing to recognize how reliant wins are on teammates’ performance, opponents’ quality, and luck.)

Having been treated to three straight years of thrilling pennant races, fans showed up in droves: 2.3 million of them piled into Olympic Stadium that year, the third-highest mark among all National League teams and the highest total to that point in franchise history.

After their early-season difficulties, the Expos remained in contention, and on August 1, 1982, the Expos hosted the Cardinals for the final game of a four-game series. It was a key matchup at the end of a pivotal series, as Montreal and St. Louis were both
in the playoff hunt, chasing first-place Philadelphia. I was seven years old, and this was my very first trip to a major league game. Even before the first pitch, I knew this would be the best day of my young life. As we walked through the turnstiles, a sonic boom whacked me in the face—the place was
loud
, with Oompah band horns and singing voices echoing through the concourse. After stopping for popcorn and ice cream, we shuffled through the passageway leading to our seats. That first look at the field, the din bouncing off the far reaches of the enormous stadium, the sight of that many people gathered in one place … it all overwhelmed the senses. That Sunday matinee against the Cards featured two of the top pitchers in the league, Steve Rogers and Joaquin Andujar, and 51,353 fans came to see it.

Neither Rogers nor Andujar pitched especially well that day, but Montreal scored three runs in the bottom of the seventh to take a 5–4 lead, one that would stand up for the win. That victory pulled the Expos to within four games of first place; by September 15, they’d cut the deficit to two games. But they could never quite break through, spending just four days in first place all season, and none later than June 24. In the end, it was the young and speedy Cardinals—not the aging, battle-tested Phillies—who won the East. The Expos actually played well against St. Louis in 1982, winning 10 of 18 games against the Cards. But in perhaps the biggest series of the year, an early-September three-game set in St. Louis, the Cards took two out of three, with both of those wins coming by 1–0 scores.

After holding off the Phillies and Expos to win the East, the Cardinals rolled from there, sweeping the Braves in the League Championship Series, then knocking off a loaded Brewers team in seven games to win their ninth World Series.

At the dawn of the 1983 season, the Expos were still a collection of stars and scrubs. A top-notch farm system had produced Carter, Dawson, Cromartie, Raines, and Wallach—plus Valentine and Parrish before them. The starting rotation ran deep, with Gullickson, Scott Sanderson, Charlie Lea, and others supporting the staff ace Rogers. But the roster remained plagued by major holes. There was the second base problem, of course. Then there
was Chris Speier, who by 1983 had seen his defence slip and injuries start to mount, making a player whose bat was never all that good a clear weakness for a team with World Series dreams. Neither the bench nor the minors offered much help at those positions, nor did first base, where 36-year-old Al Oliver managed to hit .300 again in ’83—but with little power, few walks, and more unsightly defence. From 1973 through 1981, five different Expos had finished first or second in Rookie of the Year voting. Now, the pipeline had run dry.