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Randy Johnson
| Biography |
Randall David Johnson was born on September 10, 1963 in Walnut Creek, in Northern California. His father, Bud, was a policeman and security guard in Livermore, where the family lived during Randy’s childhood. His mother, Carol, did odd jobs and volunteer work, but mostly stayed home to take care of Randy and his five siblings.
Tall and gangly, Randy was hard to miss as a kid. He towered over other children his age, but was very agile and coordinated, so he dominated in sports. His size made him a natural in basketball, but baseball was his first love. Randy was the only boy around who could make a ball hiss when he threw it, and no one wanted to face him in pickup games—not just because of his speed. The youngster had little control over his deliveries to plate. Standing in against him was a test of bravado.
Randy worked on his pitching in his driveway, throwing tennis balls at a strike zone he had taped on the garage door. He usually pretended he was Vida Blue, the young A’s lefthander who won the Rookie of the Year and Cy Young Awards in 1971. Randy threw so hard that he loosened the nails in door. After some of these throwing sessions, Bud would hand Randy a hammer so he could drive them back in.
Bud—who stood 6-6 himself, and was an avid softball player and a former ski jumper in his native state of Minnesota—believed Randy could harness his size and become a great pitcher. On summer evenings, after leaving his security job at Lawrence Livermore Labs, he would grab a glove, squat down on two creaky knees, and catch Randy’s wild stuff.
The Johnsons encouraged Randy to hone his pitching skills in Little League, so in the spring of 1972, the 8-year-old grabbed his glove and walked over to tryouts at the local athletic complex. When he got there he saw more than a hundred kids spread out over half a dozen diamonds. He did not recognize any friends or classmates, and a lot of the boys looked older. He wasn’t sure he had the right paperwork or ID, and ran home in tears. Carol walked Randy back to tryouts and got him signed up. With a little coaching, he became the best pitcher and hitter in his age group, and in 1973 he was moved up two levels.
Randy was a happy child. He enjoyed joking and talking with his friends, and was an active participant in his classes. Randy was also a keen observer of the world around him, and became interested in photography. Throughout elementary school, Randy liked being one of the “big kids”—by sixth grade he was pushing six feet. But when he sprouted seven more inches during junior high, he became aware of the fact that people were gawking at him. The once outgoing boy became shy and withdrawn as a teen. He spent less time with friends and more time with his camera.
Randy eventually found his niche at Livermore High School, where he became the star of the baseball and basketball teams. In hoops, despite his growth spurt (he was now 6-8), he had maintained his coordination and led the East Bay Athletic League in scoring twice. On the baseball diamond, Randy’s herky-jerky motion and 90 mph fastball—delivered with a whiplike three-quarter motion—was virtually unhittable. And often uncontrollable. He began experimenting with a slider at this point, but rarely found the plate.
Fans sometimes laughed at Randy’s uniform. His pants ended around his knees and his jersey came untucked after each pitch. Opposing coaches, looking to rattle Randy, would demand that umpires make him tuck it in several times an inning.
The scouts who came to watch him called him Ichabod Crane—it would be another six or seven years before he became the “Big Unit.”
When Randy had everything going, however, he was one of the best young pitchers in the country. He often struck out 10 or batters a game. In 1982, as a senior playing for coach Eric Hoff, he fanned 121 batters in 66 innings of work. In his final outing for Livermore, against Dublin High, he pitched a perfect game. It was only the fourth win of the year for Randy, however. The Cowboys didn’t have much hitting, so when he walked in a couple of runs, he often got hung with the loss.
In the June draft, Randy was selected in the second round by the Atlanta Braves. The team offered him a $50,000 signing bonus. Bud and Carol pointed out that beyond that first check, there were no guarantees in pro ball. Coach Hoff pleaded with Randy to consider college ball so he would have time to develop. With scholarship offers on the table from several top schools, he decided to go the college route and trade his fastball for an education. He chose the University of Southern California, a powerhouse program during the 1970s, with a great reputation for sports and academics.
ON THE RISE
Trojans coach Rod Dedeaux was a college baseball legend, and most people expected the program to bounce back after several subpar seasons.
Randy was in heaven in USC. He played both basketball and baseball, found a wide circle of friends, and immersed himself in his new major, fine arts. Randy shot for the school paper and a local rock magazine, and really enjoyed the creative opportunities his classes offered. He also pitched well for the Trojans, winning 10 games and saving five in his first two seasons.
Heading into his junior season in the spring of 1985, most experts believed Randy was ready for a breakout year. Baseball America ranked him as the fourth-best pitcher in college ball. But the pressure got to him, and he did not deal with adversity well. When umpires squeezed him or his fielders made bonehead plays behind him, he would lose his cool and even blame his teammates for his lackluster performance. There was a lot of standing and waiting when Randy was on the mound, as he led the nation in walks with 104 in 118 innings. And despite being lefthanded, baserunners stole on him all the time because of his complex delivery. Randy won just six times in 26 games, and USC finished with the worst conference record in Pac 10 history. Randy was embarrassed and angry about his season, and vowed to make up for it as a senior.
Vida Blue, 1975 SSPC
That June, no one was more surprised than Randy when he was informed that the Montreal Expos had taken him with their second pick in the draft. He was the second lefty selected, after Joe Magrane of Arizona, who was tabbed with the 18th pick by the St. Louis Cardinals. Randy was the 34th overall pick.
Randy was by no means sold on the idea of a pro career. He half-believed at this point that he would be at war with his own body (which was now at its full length of 6-10) as long as he remained on the pitcher’s mound, so there was an incentive to stay in school and get his degree. Baseball was driving him crazy at this point, anyway. But the Expos convinced him that if he could get a handle on his emotions, they could get a handle on his mechanics.
Randy signed a contract, banked his bonus check, and headed off to his first pro assignment in Jamestown of the New York-Penn League. To his dismay, he was winless in eight starts. Manager Ed Creech told him not to worry. The goal for his first pro season was to find a pitching motion he could feel comfortable with, and then build on as he rose through the minors.
The Expos felt confident enough about Randy’s potential to put him into a regular rotation in 1986. He pitched for West Palm Beach of the Class-A Florida State League, under manager Felipe Alou. Some days Randy was terrific, and some days he was horrific. Alou and his staff worked on Randy’s mechanics, trying to iron out the kinks in his delivery—no easy task for a guy who would become the tallest player in major league history (if he made it that far). Randy made 26 starts and won eight of 15 decisions. He led the league in walks, but his fastball—and a rapidly developing slider—were sharp enough to limit batters to a .211 average.
Randy played the entire 1987 season for Jacksonville of the Class-AA Southern League. He pitched deeper into games, and went 11-8 with a league-high 168 strikeouts. His walk totals were still a problem, but the team definitely felt he was making progress. The only worrisome thing about Randy was how easily he lost his focus when things weren’t going his way. Although these kind of emotional breakdowns are not unusual in the minors, the Expos had expected more from a guy coming out of a college program like USC’s.
Randy went to spring training in 1988 hoping to earn a promotion to Montreal's Class-AAA team in Indianapolis. He had an impressive spring and claimed a spot in the Indians’ rotation under coach Joe Kerrigan, who had also tutored him the year before. Randy credits Kerrigan—a tall, lanky hurler himself—with refining his delivery in his final two minor-league campaigns. In ’88, Randy also met his future wife, Lisa, at a charity golf event. She stood six feet tall, and managed a photo shop.
The Expos were planning to promote Randy midway through ’88. That plan got sidetracked during a June game (which unbeknownst to him was his final “tune-up” start) when a batter lined a ball of his left wrist. Believing this was a career-threatening break, he got so angry that he punched a bat rack on his way to the trainer’s room. When the x-rays came back, they revealed only a bruise on his left wrist—but his right hadn was broken. The team, which had always questioned Randy’s maturity, was furious. He didn’t realize it at the time, but in a lot of minds within the Montreal organization now considered him expendable.
Randy did eventually make his major-league debut, on September 15. He started four games over the final month and won three times, striking out 26 batters in just under 30 innings innings and walking only seven. Most fans penciled him in for a starting slot in 1989, as did manager Buck Rodgers.
Touted as a possible Rookie of the Year candidate when the season started, Randy struggled in his first few outings and was sent back to Indianapolis after six starts. He was averaging a hit, a walk and a strikeout an inning, and piled up the pitches every time he took the hill. His ERA stood at a robust 6.67 when the Expos finally pulled the plug.
On the whole, however, Montreal’s pitching was pretty good. Dennis Martinez, Bryn Smith, and Pascual Perez were all reliable veterans coming off good seasons, and Kevin Gross, obtained over the winter for Floyd Youmans and Jeff Parrett, had a big upside. By throwing Randy in the mix, the Expos were hoping to catch lightning in a bottle, but with a tight race in the NL East they had to make a move for a proven winner. On May 25, the team packaged Randy with pitchers Brian Holman and Gene Harris and obtained Mark Langston from the Seattle Mariners. Langston, coming off a great year for a horrible team, was soon to be a free agent, and thus was an extravagance for the lowly M’s.
Randy Johnson, 1987 Fleer
Randy, who pitched lights-out in three minor league starts, went right into the Mariner rotation for manager Jim Lefebvre. In 22 starts he went 7-9, gave up less than a hit an inning, and got a handle on his walk totals. Concentration was still an issue, however. In close games, he pitched beautifully, but when his teammates gave him run support, he often blew the lead. Randy was easily flustered, especially when he saw relievers warming up behind him in the early innings. When he mouthed off to the press, Lefebvre had a closed-door meeting with the gangly lefthander and straightened him out.
Nevertheless, the Mariners, who finished 73-89, were delighted with their trade. Randy proved he could dominate teams when he put his mind to it, while Holman matured quickly.
With the juggernaut Oakland A’s coming off a world championship, no one in Seattle harbored any illusions about a division title, but there was plenty to cheer about at the Kingdome in 1990. Twenty-year-old Ken Griffey, Jr. bounced back from the injury that had curtailed his superb rookie season and flashed good power to go along with great defense in centerfield. Later in the year, his father, Ken Sr., joined the club to give Seattle history’s first father-son playing combo. Edgar Martinez, on a minor-league yo-yo for years with the club, finally got a full-time job and batted .300 for the first of many seasons. Jay Buhner, picked up from the New York Yankees during the '88 campaign, became a full-time player, too. And shortstop Omar Vizquel anchored the infield with one of the best gloves in the league.
Seattle’s pitching blossomed, too. After an injury-plagued 1989, Erik Hanson came into his own, while Holman had another solid year despite a balky elbow. Meanwhile, Mike Schooler and Mike Jackson repeated their ’89 performance as bullpen stalwarts. The team improved by four wins, but still finished miles behind the A’s, who went to the World Series a third straight time.
The brightest spot in the Mariner mounds corps was Randy. On June 2, he produced the most dominant game of his young career, no-hitting the Detroit Tigers. His final pitch to fan Mike Heath was clocked at 98 mph. He also walked six batters, and was scary-wild at times, which on this night at least worked to his benefit.
Randy went 9-3 in the first half and was named along with Junior Griffey to the AL All-Star squad. He finished the year at 14-11 and kept his ERA in the mid- 3.00’s all season. Randy’s improved consistency was a tribute to the mental side of his game. The mechanical side still needed work, as he led the majors in walks. When his control was on, he was unhittable. When it was off, he was unable to make the necessary adjustments, and batters knew they could simply wait him out.
Despite high hopes that the 28-year-old would turn the corner in 1991, Randy failed to gain control of his stuff and his walk total skyrocketed to 152—47 more than the league runner-up. When the ball found a piece of the plate, however, he was money. The league batted just .213 against him, while he fanned 228 batters in just over 200 innings. In August, he took a no-hitter into the ninth against the A’s before Mike Gallego broke it up.
Randy turned in a 13-10 record to lead the Mariner staff, which also featured Hanson, Holman, first-year starter Rich DeLucia, and journeyman Bill Krueger. Backed by Schooler, Jackson and Billy Swift, the Seattle starters kept the team in enough games to finish above .500 for the first time in franchise history.
Griffey, Martinez and Buhner all matured as hitters in '91, while highly touted Tino Martinez also began to earn some playing time behind veteran Pete O’Brien. The overachieving Mariners went 83-79 and raised expectations for a great 1992 campaign.
Teams that make remarkable strides one season often take big steps back the next. The ’92 Mariners were the rule, not the exception, as they nosedived to 64 wins under new manager Bill Plummer. The off-season acquisition of Kevin Mitchell proved disastrous, as his weight ballooned and his numbers deflated. Holman missed the entire year with a bad shoulder, the bullpen was a disaster, and veterans like O’Brien and Harold Reynolds began showing their age.
On the positive side, Martinez won the batting title, Buhner clubbed 27 homers and played great defense, Griffey knocked in 100 runs for the second straight year, and Vizquel displayed a potent bat. A new starter, 22-year-old Dave Fleming, finessed his way to a 17-10 record.
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