Another “Humm Baby” chorus for a Baseball Lifer

On the edge of a quiet golf course in the hills outside San Diego, music from the Highwaymen galloped out of the sound system. Family and baseball, inseparable, had gathered to say goodbye to Roger Craig one last time. Horses and golf, two other staples in the life of this North Carolina country boy, graciously filled the green pastures and dusty trails of the imagination as the songs echoed.

I was a highwayman
I drove along the bus roads

Craig was 93 when he died this month. He was married to his beloved Carolyn for 71 of those years. And at a Saturday memorial filled with laughter, tears, and the kind of sweet and funny stories that happily survive eras, Craig’s legacy shined as the central cog of a group of three men who together spanned the past 111 years of Major League Baseball. .

Craig had been the starting pitcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers’ last game in 1957 and then was the starter for the Mets in the first game of the expansion franchise in 1962. His manager with the Mets, the ineffable Casey Stengel, made his Brooklyn debut in 1912. Craig, who achieved success as both a pitching coach and manager, mentored Bob Melvin, the current manager of the San Diego Padres, among others.

“I wouldn’t be managing today if I didn’t play for him,” Melvin, who was a catcher under Craig for three seasons, said over the weekend as he captained his Padres against Tampa Bay. “Roger forced me to watch the game as a manager.”

From 1912 to 2023, Stengel to Craig to Melvin. It may not contain the literary power of, say, “Tinker to Evers to Chance,” the famous line from the poem “Baseball’s Sad Lexicon.” But there is an undeniable richness in the hardball relay.

“Can I have a ‘Humm baby!’ to get? from everyone?” Mark Grant, the former Giants pitcher and current Padres television analyst, asked at the start of his remarks at the memorial. Those in attendance at the outdoor ceremony loudly agreed, shouting, “Humm baby,” Craig’s joyous and universal phrase, which served as an exhortation, an exclamation, and a description. It was appropriate and encouraged for all occasions.

Craig was a teammate and husband, father and teacher. He excelled at split-finger fastballs and relationships. With laconic grace, he easily defused the tension and disarmed tightly wired players.

“He meant everything to me,” said Alan Trammell, the Hall of Fame shortstop who was one of the afternoon’s speakers.

Trammell spent all five of Craig’s seasons in Detroit as pitching coach for Sparky Anderson – a run that culminated in the Tigers’ 1984 World Series title. The easygoing Trammell was appreciated by Craig when Jack Morris, another Hall of Famer, was pitching used to be.

Morris, whose career took off when Craig taught him the splitter, ran hot on the mound. When things got tight, Anderson sent Craig out to speak words of wisdom. Craig dutifully complied, knowing that the volcanic Morris wanted no part of it. So the pitching coach often just talked to Trammell instead and completely ignored Morris. Eventually, Morris would lose his temper and order them off his hill.

Craig would return to the dugout, assure Sparky that his ace was good and the game would continue.

That kind of character was forged by many battles won, and more than a few lost. As a member of the expansion Mets staff, Craig went 10–24 in 1962 and led the majors in losses. He then led the majors with another 22 losses in 1963.

One afternoon with Craig and his wife at their San Diego condominium ten years ago, Roger and I discussed it, and he grinned. Writers would still call, he said, and ask him if he was “ashamed” of his record with the Mets. He would like to point out that he had thrown 27 complete games in those two seasons.

His major league debut was under happier circumstances in 1955, when Brooklyn drafted him from Class AAA Montreal for a starting spot. He did so well, pitching a complete game three-hitter against Cincinnati, that Manager Walter Alston told him to take a few days off and move his family from Montreal to Brooklyn. An experienced teammate read the uncertainty on Craig’s face and offered, “Come on, boy, I’ll give you a ride to the airport.”

It was Jackie Robinson.

“It was my first day in the big leagues,” said Craig. “And Jackie Robinson is taking me to the airport.

“He hasn’t said a word about what he’s been through. And I saw a lot of it. He just said to me, ‘Kid, you’re going to be a great pitcher.’”

That fall, Craig was the winning pitcher in Game 5 of the World Series as the Dodgers defeated the Yankees in seven games for their only championship in New York.

After seven seasons with the Dodgers, including the team’s move to Los Angeles, Craig found himself in a very different situation. The Mets, thinking a familiar face would help sell tickets in New York, made a calculated decision to select him with the sixth pick in the expansion draft.

He was 32 at the time and Stengel loved to call him MISTER Craig. After all, he was the oldest statesman in a rotation of twentysomethings. As the Mets set a modern record for futility by finishing 40-120, Stengel often asked Craig to skip his pitching session between starts.

“Mr. Craig,” Stengel would say. “I know you pitched nine innings today and won’t pitch again for four days, but don’t pitch between starts to be sure we are for. Maybe I need you to pitch an inning or two in relief.

Half a century later, Craig was still smiling. On those rare occasions when the Mets were winning? Sure enough, Stengel leaned over and looked down the couch until he caught Craig’s eye. And Craig would start to warm up. He started in 33 games that season and relieved in nine other games.

One night in New York during those losing years with the Mets, Craig ran into the longtime owner, Bill Veeck, who told him that after all he’d been through, one day he’d make a good pitching coach or manager.

“He was right,” Craig said. “I have never forgotten that. Every time I would see him after that I would thank him. You learn so much from losing. Because you keep thinking, ‘How can we fix that?’”

After his successful stint as pitching coach, Craig was named manager of the Giants, a team that had gone 62-100 in 1985. mr. Fix It made them NL West champions in 1987, with a record of 90-72. Two years later, Craig led the team to the second pennant in San Francisco.

Craig, who earned three World Series rings as a player (1955 and 1959 Dodgers, 1964 Cardinals) and one as a pitching coach (1984 Tigers), was still ready for action when another of his former catchers, Bob Brenly, called in 2001 . .

Brenly, who managed the Arizona Diamondbacks, invited Craig to camp that spring as a guest coach and, after the Diamondbacks defeated the Yankees in the World Series, asked Craig about his ring size. The manager told his old mentor that he persuaded the owner of the team to call Craig.

“It’s not so much about what you did last year,” Brenly told Craig. “It’s for what you’ve done for me as a player, coach and manager.”

Later, Melvin, who was on that Diamondbacks staff, told Craig a different story: “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but Bob paid for that ring himself.”

Over the weekend at Petco Park, Melvin smiled and nodded as the story was told.

“That’s how much Roger meant to him,” Melvin said. “And I thought he should know that.”

Family ties were always present for Craig, both inside and outside the clubhouse. He and Carolyn raised four children, who gave them seven grandchildren and fourteen great-grandchildren. One of the granddaughters, Chelsea Willingham, closed Saturday’s service with a scripture reading, Psalm 23, and a sweet request.

“In the spirit of Humm Baby, please hum along as I sing ‘Amazing Grace,'” she asked. The chorus was immediate and robust as hearts raced and horses played and probably Stengel asked Craig to warm up. To be sure.