These Fans Have Short Memories

It was surprising, distressing. When No. 12 came out of the dugout and took his place in the batter’s box, the home crowd booed.

Who was this? Vince Coleman? One of the hated Athletics? Some multimillion-dollar disappointment? The last Communist? Suspect in a child-molestation?

No, this was Wallace Keith Joyner, a good Christian with no discernible bad habits. He’d never tossed a firecracker in a crowd of fans. He probably doesn’t even have any outstanding parking violations.

And this was Anaheim Stadium.

Bear in mind, it wasn’t too long ago, Wally Joyner was the fair-haired boy wonder of this crowd. They hung banners with his name on them in big red adoring letters from the third deck. The right-field section was known as “Wally World.”

He might have been the most popular player ever to wear the Angel uniform. He looked like the lead angel in the Christmas play. He had this baby face, these bright, eager eyes. If it weren’t for the fact the silky brown hair was thinning in places, you could have mistaken him for a Little Leaguer.

All he’d had to do when he came up was replace Rod Carew, no less. Now, Rod Carew was a cinch Hall of Famer at the time with a .328 career average, one of the top hitters of all time. He’d batted .388, .364, .359 and .350 in his storied career.

Joyner had about as much chance of succeeding him satisfactorily as I do Pope John Paul II. But when he came up with a .290 average, 22 home runs and 100 runs batted in, they were ready to make him a ride at Disneyland. He finished second in the rookie-of-the-year voting (he lost to Jose Canseco, which is no disgrace). He was “Wally Wonderful.” Mothers baked him cakes, little boys adored him, the club relied on him. He was almost as popular in Anaheim as Mickey Mouse (whom he somewhat resembled).

Consider this: In 1986, the California Angels came as close as they would ever come to a World Series--within one strike. They had carried a 3-1 lead in games in the American League playoffs and a 5-2 lead into the top of the ninth inning of Game 5--when the roof fell in. Ninth-inning home runs by Don Baylor and Dave Henderson, and the Boston Red Sox had a four-run inning and the lead going into the bottom of the ninth, 6-5.

But the Angels came back and tied the score and had the bases loaded and only one out and the winning run 90 feet away--but couldn’t bring it in.

Now, rookie Wally Joyner had played in the first three games of that playoff. He was batting a Ruthian .455, with a home run and two RBIs, when his left foot suddenly turned gangrenous green. He had a runaway staph infection and had to be rushed to surgery to save the leg. He watched the last two games from a hospital bed with his foot in the air and infection draining.

Now, it’s not a major stretch to imagine that a Wally Joyner in that lineup in the ninth inning--or earlier--might have made a significant offensive difference in that game. With him, the Angels had piled up a lead in that series. Without him, they lost the last three games.

The next year, he hit 34 home runs, with 117 RBIs--fourth in the league in both categories.

It got a little less Cooperstown-ish for Joyner after that. But not by much. He broke his right knee in midseason in 1990. The home runs were respectable but not league-leading. “I’m not really a home run hitter,” he admitted. “You hit home runs off mistakes.” Joyner was more of an Al Kaline type of hitter. The homers were afterthoughts, not sought after.

He had an appeal for the fans few athletes completely capture. In the first place, he looked like an altar boy. Even when he was 30. And in spite of being one of the best hitters in the game, he was as nearsighted as a librarian. Joyner wore contacts for eyesight that was several diopters below even normal. Ted Williams could see the stitches on the ball. Without his contacts, Wally Joyner would need a dog to find home plate.

But it was still Wally World in the bleachers. The view from the counting house was less adoring.

Wally had an impeccable year in 1991. Batted over .300 for the first time, hit 21 homers, drove in 96 runs, signed autographs, smiled, made all the team buses.

But the negotiations got overheated. The front office portrayed him as greedy. He portrayed them as ingrates.

The fans watched unhappily as the chasm got wider.

The World came to an end. Wally World, that is.

I went down to the locker room the other eve to check on the other-Worldliness of Wally. “How does it feel to get booed, of all places, in Anaheim Stadium?” I wondered.

Wally Joyner smiled. “I’ve been cheered here,” he reminded.

What happened? Wally World scratched his head. “I thought the negotiations with the Angels were going great. I agreed twice with Whitey Herzog in principle. My first priority was re-signing with the Angels. But it became a resigning. I wanted five years, they wanted three years. So, I thought we compromised on four. I got the impression they didn’t want me.”

Is he happy where he is, in Kansas City? “Oh, yes,” he said, “I went there because I wanted to play on a team with George Brett. It was a dream of mine.”

With Brett taking on the designated hitter role, Joyner has inherited first base with the Royals.

How does it feel taking over for two Hall of Famers in one career? he is asked. Joyner laughed and said: “Well, Rod (Carew) was gone, but George is still here. Does he give me instructions? Just watching him hit is instruction enough.”

The Angels, meanwhile, are playing first base by committee. At .308, with 13 homers and 56 RBIs, Wally World is spinning happily on its axis. “We’re only three games out--this time I might get in a World Series,” he said happily. With that thought in mind, he went out cheerfully to face the boos. It just meant they miss him, he felt sure. Good guess.