Sunday, March 02, 2008
Sports, "Hunt's Grunts"

Murf's turf planted firm

 

By Hunt Archbold

With spring training underway, diamond talk is in the air and I’m still not sure how to correctly pronounce the name of new Braves hurler Jair Jurrens. And yet off the field, baseball is very much in the news with legal battles involving steroids and two of the game’s biggest stars—Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds. That got me to thinking, and so last week, it wasn’t too difficult to track down Dale Murphy’s cell phone number. And when I dialed, it took only one ring for a true Atlanta sports hero to answer from his home not too far outside of Salt Lake City, Utah.

The list of sports scoundrels and bad guys could go on and on, with our city’s own Michael Vick placed right near the top. But our town once was home to Murphy, a true role model in the world of sports. Arguably baseball’s best all-around player during a six-season stretch beginning in 1982, Murphy hit more homers and drove in more runs than any other major leaguer during a 10-year span from 1981-1990. A seven-time all-star and five-time gold glover in center field, Murphy won back-to-back National League MVP awards in ’82 and ’83, making him only one of four outfielders in MLB history to accomplish such a feat. He was a durable (740 consecutive-game streak), five-tool player, and often the only player worth a fungo bat on some very bad Braves teams.

Drafted by Atlanta in 1974, he played with the club from 1976 to 1990, during which time Ted Turner was beaming his Superstation signal across the country and baseball fans everywhere got a chance to see Murphy’s excellence on a game-to-game basis. Oh, he wasn’t always good. A penchant for chasing breaking balls in the dirt led to some high strikeout totals, and his productivity took a sharp decline in later years. As he remarked, he just wasn’t “punishing those hanging sliders’’ like he once did. But he also wasn’t taking performance-enhancing drugs, and as we now know, his career, which concluded in 1993, was played during a time that does include baseball’s steroid era.

A devote Mormon, Murphy exemplified goodness off the field. With John Boy-ish features, he didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, refused to give TV interviews unless he was fully dressed and once promised a disabled girl in the stands he’d a hit a home run for her—and then he hit two! Gee wiz, the guy was a spokesman for milk and ice cream and in 1987, he shared Sports Illustrated magazine’s “Sportsman and Sportswomen of the Year’’ award with seven others who were characterized as “Athletes Who Care.’’

And Murphy hasn’t stopped caring—about the game of baseball or, more importantly, about humanity as a whole. Last summer, he was an outspoken critic as Bonds swung his way toward baseball’s all-time home run record. But knowing that he couldn’t do anything about baseball’s past transgressions concerning performance-enhancing drugs, Murphy became committed to reaching out to future generations on the evils of not only drugs, but dishonesty in general.

The 52-year-old Murphy, who has eight children with Nancy, his wife of 28 years, has lived a good life and published three books. But what excites him now is his iWontCheat Foundation (www.iwontcheat.com) and the idea that a cultural change can occur. Someday, Murphy would like to see “I won’t cheat’’ resonate like “Just say no.’’ He spends his time speaking at schools as well as meeting with political and business leaders to promote the cause. There’s a determination that can be sensed in his familiar voice.

“We have to reach these kids at an early age and teach them that there are consequences to pay when you don’t play fair,’’ Murphy tells me. “And it’s more than just drugs, it’s every choice they make. And it’s more than the kids: We need as a society to realize that cheating is wrong. We have to promote ethical behavior.’’

Murphy is an Atlanta hero and his number 3 has been retired at Turner Field. He speaks fondly of former teammates Phil Niekro, Bruce Benedict, Glenn Hubbard and Gary Matthews, as well as former coaches Bobby Dews and Bobby Cox. Joe Torre was his manager in 1982, the only time Murphy played in the postseason. The Braves were swept in three games by the Cardinals, but Murphy contends, as do I, that the series would’ve been different had Game 1 not been rained out with Atlanta leading by a run in the fifth. “We had Knucksie [Niekro] in that game and it just threw our rotation off,’’ he says.

It was Murphy who approached then-general manager Cox and instigated his trade to Philadelphia during the 1990 season, the last year of his contract. Murphy was having a substandard season and wanted the Braves to get something in return for his services while they still could. That’s Dale Murphy in a nutshell—thinking of others.

Back in the day, whenever Murphy would track down a fly ball in a mostly empty Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, the JumboTron would flash the words “Murf’s Turf.’’ Now, like then, the turf Murphy walks is of solid rock.

Happy times … and let’s all work on this cheating thing, OK?