A Warrior Lays Down His Tools

by Bob Bryant - November 19, 2003

One of the true road warriors was lost to baseball this week.

Even as "I play for Me-Rod" was sucking the Texas' fan interest out of his MVP season in a petulant ungracious press conference, one of the Really Good Guys of the Game's obituary went unnoticed by most fans of the game.

Earl Battey passed away Saturday at age 68 at his home in Ocala, Florida, after a bout with cancer than had lasted several years, and is survived by his wife, Sonia, and five children.

A.J. Pierzynski, the just-traded catcher for the Twins, who had been scouted by Battey while in high school, commented on his friend's passing: "We had dinner last August. All he wanted to talk about was baseball, He was so ill, but all he wanted to do was talk about baseball. He said he didn't like the way a pitcher had treated me  And he kept telling me that I run the show, and not to let anyone boss me around. He was one of the nicest, neatest men."

Battey played in a different time, when the Twins were in old Metropolitan Stadium instead of playing indoors, and the American League was all in the same division...before the DH, which could have extended his career, and before big dollars invaded the then-American Pastime. Battey played 13 seasons in the majors, the last seven with the Twins (1961-67). In 1965, he hit .297 and finished in the top 10 of the league's MVP voting. The Twins won the American League pennant and lost to the Los Angeles Dodgers in the World Series. He was a four-time all-star who won three Gold Glove awards.

Battey had been ill for years. He had his bladder removed in 1999, but when he was selected as the catcher for the Twins' 40th anniversary team in 2000, he was among the players introduced before a game at the Metrodome.

Former Twins players and members of the team's front office remember Battey as a man with a razor sharp sense of humor, one who didn't mind being teased for his legendary lack of foot speed. "Oh, he was good with the one-liners," said Twins minor league director Jim Rantz . "He would keep the ball club nice and loose. He was a durable guy, but the one thing Earl couldn't do was run. He could bat, but he couldn't run, and when people reminded him of that, he'd dish it back, too."

Former Twins outfielder Tony Oliva spoke to Battey last Tuesday. They were close friends for more than 40 years."I knew him since 1961. And as a rookie, I only spoke, maybe two words of English. But he spoke Spanish, and we became friends. He used to call me 'Rookie' all the time. It was like I was his little brother."

Oliva said that even in recent conversations, Battey and Harmon Killebrew still called him "Rookie." "For so many years that was a nice relationship. He was a superstar already when I met him, but he treated everyone the same. The last few years, he's been really sick, but his attitude didn't change. He's a very, very special person."

We tend to romanticize things of our past; ugly memories fade through the gauzy filters of remembrance. Still, there is something to be said for simpler times, for times when salaries and contraction and union grievances and steroids weren't front and center, vying with the box score for our attention. Earl Battey is a personification of those times, when a man played a game because he could play it well enough to make a living at it, and people got pleasure from watching him do so...and it was pretty much as simple as that. No Sportscenter highlights, no skipping out of the batter's box...just a mouthful of dirt, a spike mark, a broken finger or two, and the respect of your teammates, your manager, your team's fans...and yourself.

By any measurement, Earl Battey measured up. He could never run the bases, but he sure knew how to run a game, and how to live a meaningful life.

Earl, you'll be remembered, and missed.