For a baseball player, offseasons can sometimes be much tougher than the alternative. Take the case of Bruce Hurst. Three months from a 14-9
season as a lefthanded starter for the San Diego Padres, he's recovering from shoulder surgery, developing cabin fever, and wondering if or when he'll be traded back to his old team, the Boston Red Sox.This is a man looking forward to spring training. By March he should know what uniform he'll be wearing, if the surgery held, and if he'll have a chance to improve on his considerable, if relatively obscure, streak of winning at least 10 games per year. Hurst has done it for 10 straight seasons. No other active pitcher in the major leagues can stake such a claim.
Hurst isn't unduly concerned that his arm won't be as good as ever. His surgery wasn't serious by pitchers' arms standards. The doctors repaired the rotator cuff, removed bone spurs and trimmed loose cartilage. "Your basic 100,000 mile lube and tune," he says. You don't pitch most of your natural life - starting in the vacant lot next to the house you grew up in in St. George - and still have an arm that looks like it just came off the showroom floor.
"But I have to show I can still pitch," says Hurst. "Everyone has to be assured of that before anything can happen."
Which means One Long winter.
Under normal conditions, Hurst wouldn't be so anxious. But playing in San Diego these days doesn't constitute normal conditions. The Padres, after losing more money than they made with last season's 82-80 team, are on an austerity kick. One sign of that is the laying off of front office personnel. In major league baseball, that's the equivalent of throwing deck chairs off an ocean liner. Usually it means this: the heavy stuff is coming next.
Hurst is the heavy stuff. He makes more money than the front office combined. If the Padres really want to become austere, he's their man.
"They say they lost significant dollars last year and they're going to make decisions based on not letting that happen again," says Hurst, who was in Salt Lake yesterday signing autographs in a benefit for the Salt Lake Valley American Legion baseball programs. "Under the current climate I don't see how they can keep me. I just don't think I fit under their guidelines."
Thus has Hurst and his $3 million annual contract - binding for two more seasons - become one of the offseason's hottest trade rumors. The ripest speculation is that he could be bound for Boston. Make that re-bound. Hurst spent his first 12 years in professional baseball with the Red Sox organization. He was with the Red Sox the last time they went to the World Series, in 1986, when he won two games over the Mets and was poised to win the Most Valuable Player trophy until Bill Buckner let the ground ball go between his legs.
Four seasons ago, when collusion came to an end and free agency began its heyday, Hurst took San Diego's money and flew to the West Coast. His days in San Diego have been productive enough (a record of 55-37) but the Padres have been nondescript both at the gate and as contenders. For Hurst, the laidback baseball atmosphere in San Diego has been a marked contrast from Boston.
For those reasons, Hurst is not unreceptive about rejoining his old team. He was a marked man in Boston - as are all lefthanders who pitch in Fenway Park - and admits that, when he was with the Red Sox, he often fantasized about being away from the intense scrutiny - and criticism - of the fans, the media, and Bostonians in general.
"But it's funny, the things I thought I hated are the things I've missed the most," says Hurst.
He remembers the day he announced his decision to leave the Red Sox and sign with the Padres.
"I went to a Celtics game that night," he says. "I loved the Celtics, I loved Danny (Ainge, who played for them then), and I loved Boston Garden. But during the second half, whenever there was a timeout, or any break in the action, the crowd would chant "Bruce Hurst Sucks. Bruce Hurst Sucks." It was amazing. Fifteen thousand something people chanting "Bruce Hurst Sucks." Guys would walk by and give me the finger. I didn't leave. I was determined to sit there and take it and it was hard. But looking back, I don't think I've had anything more flattering happen to me."
"I'd love to go back, if that's how it turns out. On the other hand, if I stay in San Diego, there are a lot worse things that could happen."
The hard part is not knowing. In the big leagues, the most difficult part is the time between starts.