PEORIA, Ariz. – One time in the minor leagues, his manager took him out of a game with runners on base and he sat in the dugout and banged a bat against the bench, angry that he had been replaced and upset with himself.
Finally, the manager, Dave Myers, couldn’t take it anymore, and went nose-to-nose with the pitcher before ordering him to leave the dugout.
That happens sometimes in competition. And Ryan Franklin was an intense competitor.
He was the kind of guy who would sometimes throw bats and balls when things didn’t go right. And he would have destroyed a water cooler or a toilet if he’d had the muscle. “I’d probably try,” he said, “but I couldn’t do it.”
Another time, he was pitching in Class AA when he gave up home runs to three straight batters. The fourth batter got a pitch in the ribs, causing both benches to empty and Franklin got ejected.
He stormed into the clubhouse and went to work on the furniture with a bat. The pitching coach, Bryan Price, came in, saw the damage that Franklin had wrought, and laced into his pitcher.
“He really let me have it,” Franklin said, as he sat at his locker in the Mariners spring training clubhouse one morning. In letting him have it, Price also talked some sense into him, asking, “What good is this doing?”
Regaining control of his emotions, Franklin put the bat and his anger away.
He has had no similar eruptions since then.
“I mean, I still snap every once in a while,” the just-turned 31-year-old righthander said. “Everybody does, except (John) Olerud.
“I’ll give up some runs and I’ll come in and slam my glove on the bench, but I think that’s normal. I just think that’s the competitiveness in me.”
It has always been there and it always will be, that hunger to win, whatever the game, whoever the competition. Even in silly little “Jeopardy” games with his wife, he wants to win. “I’m not bad,” he said, “but she always beats me.”
If he hadn’t mellowed a bit since his minor league days, Franklin would have had plenty of incentive to wreak havoc on a clubhouse last season. Often on the days he pitched, Mariner hitters gave him little run support, averaging 1.69 per game in his 13 losses.
How to explain it? There is no explanation. It’s just one of those things that sometimes happens in baseball. Call it bad karma. Or bad luck. Or bad whatever.
If a guy – in this case Franklin – sat around and tried to figure out why the bats went dead on the days he pitched, he’d drive himself right into a psyche ward. Fortunately, Franklin realized there was nothing he could do about it but go out and try to pitch even better the next time. “The only thing I could do,” he said, “was give them a chance to win.” He often did, but had nothing to show for it.
He pitched into the sixth inning in all but one of his 32 starts. He turned in a solid 3.57 earned run average (ninth best in the AL). And all he had to show for it was an 11-13 record.
On days the M’s didn’t do much offensively, Franklin reacted as any good professional would. He’d tell reporters his teammates were trying as hard as they could or that if he’d pitched a little better, maybe they’d have won.
Teammate Bret Boone recalled the year that he was with Atlanta the Braves didn’t do a lot of scoring for Kevin Millwood, yet the righthander still managed to win 18 games on the strength of a 2.68 ERA.
“It’d be 2-1 in the eighth inning and he’d be pitching his butt off and you’d feel bad that you couldn’t score more runs,” Boone said. “There’d be no rhyme nor reason for it.”
That’s just the way it was.
Millwood also handled his fate with class, musing, “What I’m POed about is I gave up two runs and I should have given up one.”
The man who once dressed down Franklin for trashing the clubhouse, Bryan Price, is now his pitching coach with the M’s. He knows some of the frustrations the pitcher endured in the minor leagues and believes they helped strengthen him for the tough times he faced last year.
Most important of all, he says Franklin has “a very good idea of what makes the game work: He gets his team back in the dugout as quickly as possible and he doesn’t give the hitters too much respect.”
Respect is something Franklin got in the offseason when management rewarded him with a two-year contract worth $4.3 million.
Good times had arrived. He remembers some hard times.
A few years ago, he worked in a bowling alley during the offseason, assigning lanes one year, tending bar the next. “You do what you’ve got to do to put food on the table, man,” said Franklin, who had a wife and a 2-year-old son to support. “You struggle in the minor leagues money-wise.”
Things started to get easier when he was called up to the majors in 1999. “That was a relief because I knew I was going to make at least $42,000 when I was then making $12,000,” he said. “I thought I was rich.”
Now that he’s earning some big money, he can afford a few luxuries, like the 5,500 square-foot house he’s building in Shawnee, Okla., and the three vehicles he owns, including a Hummer.
“Why not, man? I’ve worked hard for it,” he said. “I want something good for my wife and (three) kids. Other than that, I don’t need anything else.”
On the field, a 25-win season would be gratifying, but he’s a realist. “I don’t want to set any goals I can’t reach,” he said.
The best goal he ever attained? “Being a father,” he said, “and a good father.”
The man has his priorities straight.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
