Routine Moments in Baseball History: Jerry Reuss Goes to Work

Welcome back to Routine Moments in Baseball History, a running weekday feature that looks back at plays that have been ignored by the history books because history books only talk about things that are important or interesting. Today's installment is "Jerry Reuss Goes to Work." 

Jerry Reuss had the kind of career you didn't think about while it was happening. He pitched 22 seasons in the majors, long enough that an entire generation of fans grew up when he was making starts for the Pirates, or the Dodgers, or the half-dozen other teams that filled out his resume. Every year he was out there on the mound with his mustache, easy grin, slightly sunburned face, tufts of hair sticking out from underneath his cap—an institution, but not a Hall of Famer. Most years watching him pitch was like walking past a building you've lived near for a decade without noticing. Oh yeah, that guy. He had 220 wins, 191 losses, 1,907 strikeouts, 3,369 innings pitched, a couple of All-Star Games, and a Comeback Player of the Year Award in 1980, when most of his career was in front of him. Basically, he pitched until he couldn't pitch anymore, then slid gracefully into retirement with jobs as a booth guy for ESPN and the Angels, some speaking appearances, a jokey memoir with the requisite funny that-time-I-ran-into-Muhammad-Ali stories. According to his website, "Jerry's hobbies include collecting baseball books and compact discs." He seems like a good guy.

During his best seasons he was most notable for his control, keeping everything around the strike zone and letting hitters make contact, just not solid contact. At times it seemed like every ball went straight to a fielder, every swing of the bat produced a weak pop fly. In 1980, he pitched a no-hitter against the Giants and only struck out two batters; even when he was great he wasn't dominating.

On August 4, 1980, several weeks after that no-hitter, Reuss was in Atlanta starting against the Braves. He might have still been smiling inwardly at that game, at how the Giants fans applauded him. He was 11-4 and playing the best baseball of his life for a team that was in the midst of a fierce National League West race (they'd wind up finishing a heartbreaking one game behind the Houston Astros). Reuss might have had one of those odd, vaguely arrogant moments when you realize that you are really, really good at something, that there are people looking at you because you're doing things that they can't. It's a pretty giddy feeling, and Reuss, a prankster who never seemed to take himself all that seriously, might have savored it in a kind of ironic way, turning over the confidence it his head like he was feeling a rock in his pocket. Ha ha oh wow I can do this pretty well, I guess. There were 30,000 sets of eyes out there in Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium waiting to see him pitch, and he was going to run through their precious team like it was nothing.

He would win the game, going seven innings and giving up only three runs before getting relieved by Don Stanhouse—but he didn't know that standing on the mound under the sweating Atlanta sun and facing his first batter of the game in Glenn Hubbard. He knew he was good, though. He raised his glove, looked down at home plate, and smiled.

This has been Routine Moments in Baseball History. Follow Harry Cheadle on Twitter.