Remembering Frank Howard

Frank Howard, who died earlier this week, hit 382 home runs in the major leagues. In a four year stretch, 1967-1971, he averaged 43 homers per year. In two of these years, he led the American League in round-trippers.

In 1968, the year of the pitcher, Howard’s 44 home runs exceeded the next best total in major league baseball by eight (Willie McCovey and Willie Horton both had 36). During a span of six games that season, he belted 10 home runs and drove in 17 runs. In doing so, he set records for home runs in four games (7), five games (8), and six games (10).

Playing for the last-place Washington Senators, Howard drove in 103 runs that season, second in the AL only to Ken Harrelson (106). Two years later, still playing for the last-place Senators, Howard led the AL in RBIs with 126.

Adjusted OPS+ is heavily relied on these days to compare the performance of batters across different eras of the game. Howard’s career OPS+ is 142, meaning 42 percent better than league average. This puts him 69th on the all-time list, alongside Harmon Killebrew, Eddie Mathews, Freddie Freeman, and Bryce Harper.

Now, Killebrew and Matthews performed at this level much longer than Howard, a late bloomer, did. Freeman has already played more games than Howard. Harper, if he stays healthy, has miles to go before he sleeps.

Nonetheless, these comparisons give you a good idea of Howard’s excellence at the plate. What they don’t show is how long and how big Howard’s home runs were.

Anyone who visited RFK Stadium when baseball was played there knows about the length of Howard’s best shots. At least half a dozen seats in the outfield upper deck were painted white to remind folks where Howard’s longest homers landed.

When I attended games at RFK, I liked to sit for an inning in one of those seats and marvel. Having never seen any of his longest blasts in person, it just didn’t seem possible that anyone could hit a fall that far.

I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. When RFK hosted old-timers classic games in the 1980s, baseball legends were sure home plate must have been closer to the outfield seats in Howard’s time. So were members of the Washington Nationals when regular baseball returned to D.C. in 2005.

But home plate hadn’t moved.

Howard also hit big home runs — homers on big occasions. In Game Four of the 1963 World Series, he hit one off Whitey Ford that traveled 450 feet. It tied the game. Howard’s LA Dodgers went on to win 2-1 to complete a sweep of the Yankees.

Back in Game One, Howard had hit a double off Ford to center field in Yankee Stadium. It measured 460 feet and was declared the longest double in that Stadium’s long history.

No wonder Ford said that Howard was the only hitter who ever intimidated him.

Unfortunately, the Washington Senators didn’t play in big games. However, in the 1969 all-star game, played before his fans at RFK, Howard homered off Bob Gibson.

And in the Senators’ last ever game in D.C., a crazy affair that Washington eventually forfeited when fan rioting prevented its completion, Howard homered. This was the last home run ever hit by a Washington Senator.

The next year, Howard hit the first homer ever by a Texas Ranger.

Howard’s career would have been even more successful had he encountered Ted Williams earlier. Williams became the Senators’ manager in 1969, when Howard was 32-years-old. During Spring Training, Williams called the big man into his office and asked, “Can you tell me how a guy who hit 44 home runs only got 48 walks?” (The actual number was 54, 12 of them intentional.)

Howard explained that he was aggressive at the plate because he didn’t like to hit with two strikes and because he preferred to hit fastballs, and therefore wasn’t too picky about which fastball he offered at. Williams told him to remember that the best pitch to hit in an at-bat might be the fourth or fifth thrown, assuming the batter is patient enough to wait that long.

Howard took this advice to heart. In his first season under Williams, he increased his walk total to 102 (19 were intentional). He also improved his batting average by 25 points. The year after that, Howard led the league in walks with 132 (29 were intentional).

In addition to excelling at baseball, Howard was a tremendous college basketball player. In fact, he was a basketball all-American at Ohio State. As a junior, he averaged 20 points and 15 rebounds per game.

Howard also holds the Ohio State record for rebounds in a single game — 32. Even Jerry Lucas, one of the greatest rebounders in basketball history, didn’t reach that mark when he starred for Ohio State a few years later.

The 32 rebound game took place at Madison Square Garden. I believe it’s still the record for rebounds in a college game played at that venerable gym.

The Philadelphia Warriors drafted Howard. However, he preferred to play baseball. Plus, the Dodgers paid a $100,000 bonus for his signature.

When Howard’s baseball-playing career was over, he became a revered coach. He also had two brief stints as a major league manager, both unsuccessful.

When the San Diego Padres fired him, the team’s general manager suggested that Howard was too nice to be a manager. That might have been true. What’s clearly true is that Howard was an exemplary human being.

This tribute to Howard in the Washington Post gives you a sense of that:

You contrast his size with his demeanor,” said Phil Hochberg, the longtime public address announcer at RFK Stadium. “He just seemed to be a nice, nice guy.”

“Such a kind man,” said Jim Bowden, the general manager of the Washington Nationals when baseball returned to the District. “He was so kind to all of us.

“Any activity designed to enhance the experience for fans, to make the fans more comfortable, he would do,” Hochberg said Monday by phone. “That could be autographs. That could be pictures. And of course, Frank was so big, but to have him respond by being a gentle giant, if you will, made people love him. He was always willing to participate in whatever was needed.”

Living in the D.C. area, I occasionally talked to people who encountered Howard away from baseball. I never heard anything but praise for the way he behaved towards others.

You can get a sense of Howard’s graciousness and modesty in this interview from just a year ago.

When he was a minor league manager, Howard would tell his charges:

Boys, in this game you never play as long as you want to or as well as you want to. When they pull those shades, they pull ’em for a lifetime. When it’s over, no one can bring it back for you. It’s a short road we run in this business, so run hard.

Frank Howard had a long run in his many decades in baseball and his 87 years on earth. He ran hard and he ran well.

RIP