Baseball Candy

Today’s Major League Baseball draft brought back memories for me of the only MLB draft that had any personal significance. Forty years ago my old friend and boyhood teammate John Candelaria was taken by the Pittsburgh Pirates in the second round.

Candy was in a league of his own as a kid pitcher, competing up one division because he was so overpowering for his own 10- 11-year-old age group in 1963. A terrific all-round player, he was our switch-hitting No. 3 batter. During one stretch, Candy threw three consecutive no-hitters. One day in seventh grade he brought to school a note he received from the St. Louis Cardinals. We knew it was the real thing because it was on the team’s letterhead. The message: We’ve heard about you. Keep working hard in school and at baseball.

There was no Little League in our Brooklyn neighborhood, so we played on one team all summer in two different leagues: CYO and the Parade Grounds League. That was in the day before scheduled play dates, micromanaging parents, video games and texting, branding, one-sport specialists, and pitch counts.

We didn’t pre-arrange any activities. We woke up, ate a quick breakfast, and met on the city street or in the Parade Grounds, where we played until reluctantly called home (and not via cell phone) for dinner. Dads were too busy working at least one full-time job to supervise our impromptu games and moms did not coach. We read the Hardy Boys and Chip Hilton and comic books.

There was no Gatorade, Powerade, vitaminwater, bottled water, or even garden hoses to quench our thirst. No one went to camp, wore designer sneakers, had personal coaches and trainers, or concentrated on one sport. The rotator cuff and oblique muscle had not yet been discovered, and if your arm ached from throwing a ball all day every day, you ignored the pain. The alternative was worse: no play.

Candy was no one-sport athlete. An all-city 6-7 forward at La Salle high school in Manhattan, he set a state record for rebounds and had numerous high-profile college basketball coaches recruiting him, including Al McGuire, who tried to entice Candy with a Marquette blazer and NIT watch.

After the 1972 draft, the Pirates sent Danny Murtaugh, who had managed the team to a World Series championship the previous season, to Brooklyn to sign Candy. He was accompanied by Pirates legend and future Hall of Famer Roberto Clemente, like Candy’s parents a native of Puerto Rico. It was thought by management that Clemente could convince the prize prospect to sign quickly. During the discussion, however, Clemente, in Spanish, successfully advised the Candelarias to hold out for more money.

Candelaria did sign and went on to play 19 seasons, mostly with Pittsburgh, including an auspicious 14-strikeout game as a rookie vs. Cincinnati’s Big Red Machine during the 1975 playoffs. He threw a no-hitter the following year and then went 20-5 in 1977, leading the National League in ERA (2.34) and winning percentage. He retired in 1993, having won 177 games for nine teams, including his hometown New York Mets and Yankees.