"D.C. didn't seem to have many major leaguers, but Frank Howard was one," says Bob Hannah, a Sterling home inspector who grew up a Senators fan. "We'd listen to the AM radio, and when Frank came up, we'd be praying he'd hit the long ball."
Tom Goldstein owns one of Howard's bats. The publisher of the literary baseball magazine Elysian Fields Quarterly grew up in Chevy Chase devoted to the Senators. "I still dearly love all those guys," says Goldstein, now living in St. Paul, Minn. "I can remember thinking even if they were behind they could still pull it out. Frank Howard could hit a home run."
At 68, former Senators slugger Frank Howard still looks like he could power one into the upper deck at RFK Stadium, where he plans to attend the Nationals' opening day.
(Tracy A. Woodward -- The Washington Post)
|
|
Those were the good old days. "Many people call it 'the Golden Era of Baseball,' " Howard says. "I don't know if there's anything to that. I always thought the good old times are today. I cherish the memories . . . but I'm not a guy who lives in the past."
Go East, Big Man
Born in 1936, Howard grew up in Columbus, Ohio, the son of "a railroader and a housewife -- good people," he says.
An all-American in baseball and basketball at Ohio State University, he was drafted in 1958 by the NBA's Philadelphia Warriors.
But baseball was his first love, says Howard, and he signed with the Los Angeles Dodgers before the '58 season. He was named National League Rookie of the Year in 1960. The Dodgers won two World Series with him on the roster.
Then in '64, the Dodgers traded Howard to Washington. "I was essentially a fourth outfielder in L.A., hitting 25 home runs a year in the biggest baseball park in America and doing it on 400 at-bats," he says, explaining why he was happy to be traded to the cellar-dwelling Senators. "I said, Jesus Christ, what could I do if I get 550 at-bats? I had my best years here."
In '69, in Ted Williams's first year as Senators manager, the club competed for third place, came in 10 games above .500 and finished in fourth.
"It was like winning the World Series," Howard says. "We drew 900,000 people in that ballpark. We just didn't have the overall team depth to compete with the good ballclubs."
But Williams took a bunch of lovable bums, guys named Casanova, Bosman, Knowles, Cullen, Allen and McMullen, and taught them a few things about the mentality of hitting.
"Awww, he was one of the most electric, charismatic guys I ever met in my life," Howard says. "You know, he's one of the true gods of baseball."
He recalls his third day in training camp that '69 season, when word came Williams wanted to see him in the clubhouse office. "I knocked on the door and said, 'Skip, ya wanna see me?'
"He said, 'Yeah, yeah, come on in here, bush.' He called everybody 'bush.' Bush leaguer, ya know. He said, 'Can you tell me how a guy can hit 44 home runs and only get 48 bases on balls?' "
Howard said he was being aggressive at the plate. Williams observed that he knew Howard "liked that first swifty that they throw to you."
