Genial Giant Triggers a Lovefest in St. Louis

By Thomas Boswell
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, September 6, 1998; Page D1

ST. LOUIS – Long after Mark McGwire had hit his 60th home run and the game had ended, the St. Louis Cardinals slugger was in the midst of a relaxed, almost meditative, news conference that lasted nearly an hour. He didn't know that his biggest surprise of the day was still in store.

"The St. Louis fans are a big reason that I stayed [with the Cards]," said McGwire. "Oakland's fans were great. But the St. Louis fans are on another level."

Suddenly, cheers exploded from the Busch Stadium stands, as though McGwire had just hit another home run into the left field bleachers.

"They're still here!" said McGwire in disbelief.

Then, he peeked through a gap in the mezzanine level to see the fans. Where were they? What were they doing? How many of them were there, nearly an hour after the game? Suddenly, McGwire realized that thousands of people were watching him on the scoreboard!

"Where are you guys?" said McGwire to the crowd. They erupted again. McGwire cackled with laugher, then waved in no particular direction, realizing that some camera would pick up his gesture. Finally, McGwire fell back in his interview chair, shaking his head.

"Unbelievable," he said.

Just like everything else these days in the Great Home Run Chase. McGwire has now hit 13 home runs in his past 18 games, giving him 60 in just 142 Cardinal games. Maybe it's Babe Ruth who needs an asterisk now, since his Yankees played 154 games when the Bambino hit his 60.

Back then, legend has it that, after his 60th, Ruth said – (give or take a couple of expletives) – "Sixty home runs. Let's see some SOB beat that." Roger Maris did it in 1961 in 162 games. Now, Babe, get ready to meet the next guy. Except that McGwire is the opposite of what that epithet implies.

Everywhere he goes, everything he does, McGwire seems to bring out the best in others. In his own less Bacchanalian way, McGwire has the same affection for people, love for children and easy naturalness that Ruth brought to the game. McGwire has to work hard to let those qualities out. He was in therapy for four years, trying to pry his feelings open. Now, they are. The public senses it and loves it.

Even crusty old Jack McKeon, manager of Cincinnati, caught the spirit Saturday. With his team far behind in the seventh inning, he elected to pitch to McGwire with men on second and third base, even though first base was open, suggesting an intentional walk.

"I've been getting all these calls on my voice mail wanting me to heal the country," said McKeon, cigar stub in hand and appropriate sardonic expression on his face. "So, I decided to do something good for the country and see if I could help the healing process. So, we pitched to him."

What did Big Mac think of this national healing campaign. "Wouldn't it be great if that was all it came down to?" he laughed. Later, he added, "It has brought baseball back. If you say it's helped bring America together, it has."

Once, after the Black Sox Scandal in 1919, many believed that Ruth and his home runs saved the sport. Are McGwire and Sosa, plus the record-pace Yankees and all the sport's other prime stars, saving the game again after the 1994 strike?

"I truly believe that," he said. "I run into fans who tell me that they hated baseball because of what we did to it. But now they're coming back. They're excited. All I can say is, 'Thank you.'‚"

McGwire forgot he was on TV out in the stadium. Another ovation.

For perma-cynics, the last week has been truly disgusting. Everywhere McGwire plays, bleachers seats are being scalped for hundreds of dollars – $400 here this weekend – as some fans hope to catch a home run ball (like No. 62) which might be worth from $100,000 to $1 million. Yet, four times in Florida and again Saturday, fans have volunteered to give McGwire back his souvenir balls for free.

Saturday's lucky fan – 22-year-old Deni Allen of Ozark, Mo. – works in marketing for the St. Louis Rams, but loves baseball so much he said he'd give the ball back to McGwire almost for free. "It's his ball. I believe that's right," said Allen, who said he "took a few punches" in the melee for the souvenir. Yet Allen said he only wanted "a few simple things" in a swap.

"I want to take batting practice," Allen said. And maybe get some tickets for family and friends. And you think that there aren't baseball gods who choreograph this stuff?

What if the Cardinals won't let him take batting practice?

"Oh," he said, with confidence far beyond his years, "they'll give me batting practice."

Indeed, they will – on Tuesday. McGwire also gave Allen a ball, two bats and a jersey. Tickets to come. Still, that's a pittance compared to speculation about open-market memorabilia prices.

"It's outstanding," said McGwire of the remarkable streak of returned balls. "Why would somebody hold a ball hostage? No. 62 belongs in Cooperstown. And any others after it."

Everybody knows what's coming next, too. Sosa and the Cubs arrive for a two-game series – the last meeting this season between the two titans – on Monday and Tuesday. In fact, McGwire said he planned to watch Sosa play Saturday night against the Pirates if he could get the game on his cable TV at home. "I respect him and love watching what he is doing," said McGwire. "There's no competition. I'm rooting for him."

What if, during that two-game series, McGwire were to hit No. 62? What would happen? "Some of my teammates have said they might come and run the bases with me," wisecracked McGwire.

Then, a 10-year-old boy, representing a cable TV network for children, asked McGwire what he thought Sosa would do if he witnessed a record-breaker by McGwire?

McGwire didn't say a word. Instead, he mimicked Sosa's famous post-homer gesture to his mother back in the Dominican Republic. McGwire put two fingers over his heart, then put them to his lips and – just like Sosa – blew a kiss to the world.