It was nice to see that the Giants honored Dave Dravecky this week in a pre-game ceremony to commemorate his great cancer comeback performance twenty years ago. In all my years handling the team’s PR and media relations, August 10, 1989, will always be among the most memorable days.
But what happened five days later in Montreal – twenty years ago today – holds a deeper personal connection for me.
The comeback game in San Francisco was powerfully emotional and unforgettable for everyone – for Dravecky, his teammates, his family, our front office family and Giants fans everywhere. Thirty-four thousand packed Candlestick Park for the heralded return of the likeable left-hander. It had been nearly a year since surgeons removed a tumor from his pitching arm.
Dravecky threw eight solid innings on that sunny Thursday afternoon to beat the Pete Rose-managed Cincinnati Reds. It was a triumphant homecoming for a talented player who had been told by his doctors he would never pitch again.
Even the media were uncharacteristically moved by Dravecky’s courageous performance. The press box at the ‘Stick overflowed with reporters from all over the country. Some actually applauded when Dave came out of the dugout in the bottom of the eighth to acknowledge the cheering crowd.
“I feel great,” he told them at a post-game press conference. “After what happened today, anything else is icing on the cake.” That weekend we dropped two out of three to the Dodgers and on Monday we flew to Montreal for the start of a nine-game road trip.
Olympic Stadium in Montreal is a cavernous structure enclosed by a huge dome that amplifies the interior noise to a level rivaling a 747 taking off from your back yard.
Built originally for the 1976 summer Olympics to accommodate 56,000 people, the acoustics were always ill suited for the smaller crowds typical of a major league baseball game. When the fans were quiet, as Dravecky noted in his book, “Comeback,” you could hear somebody eating peanuts in the upper deck.
That’s how it was when the series opened on Tuesday night, August 15. Fewer than 20,000 fans were there to see the hometown Expos host the Giants and the celebrated Dravecky.
With Dravecky and the Giants leading, 3-0, in the bottom of the sixth inning, the Montreal crowd was especially hushed. Damaso Garcia led off with a home run and then Dravecky’s first pitch to Andres Galarraga came too far inside and nicked him. With Galarraga on first and nobody out, Tim Raines dug into the batter’s box. Dravecky looked into catcher Terry Kennedy for the sign, came to a set position, then wheeled back and whipped his arm forward with the pitch.
“THWACK!” The stadium exploded with a piercing noise that sounded like a heavy tree branch snapping in two. But it wasn’t from Raines’ bat striking the ball. It was Dravecky’s arm snapping in two. He let out a shriek that sent chills through the crowd as he instantly dropped his glove, grabbed his upper arm in agony, whirled in place and crumpled to the edge of the mound in agony.
Kennedy and first baseman Will Clark bolted in from their positions and knelt at Dravecky’s side to comfort him as other Giants converged on the mound from the field and the dugout.
Giants trainer Mark Letendre and others wheeled Dravecky off the field on a stretcher and into the clubhouse, where doctors and team officials examined him. Stunned and shaken teammates stood by, some weeping quietly.
The humerus bone in Dravecky’s upper left arm, weakened by the tumor-removal surgery and brittle from subsequent freezing to stem future growth of the cancer, had fractured under the powerful torque of the pitching motion.
Normally only one PR person travels with the ball club, but I had taken my assistant, Robin Carr, along because we were headed to Philadelphia and New York after Montreal and we knew the media interest in Dravecky’s comeback would be tremendous in those media capitals. In the press box high above the field, the writers and broadcasters with us, as well as the Montreal press, were numbed by Dravecky’s collapse.
Robin remained in the press box while I rushed down to the clubhouse to learn what I could about Dave’s condition and relay it back to her. By the time I got downstairs, an ambulance was already pulling up to the clubhouse entrance. Soon the attendants loaded Dravecky aboard and assistant trainer Greg Lynn followed. I clambered in behind them in order to keep tabs on developments that I could phone back to the stadium.
Dravecky winced in pain and groaned audibly as the ambulance sped bumpily across the city to the hospital.
“How you doing, Dave?” I stupidly asked him as we pulled up to the hospital’s emergency entrance. I immediately regretted the question. I guess I was lost for words. But he wasn’t.
“I feel like somebody hit my arm with a meat axe,” Dravecky answered with a look that said he knew his career was truly over this time. “But that’s not important right now. I left a man on base. Could you let me know how the game comes out as soon as you find out? I’d hate to lose this one. I’d like to go out undefeated.”
The Giants held on to win, 3-2. And Dravecky’s comeback inspired them to win the National League pennant, too. Oakland, however, swept the World Series after the Loma Prieta earthquake, minutes before Game 3, caused a ten-day postponement.
While Dave was being treated in the hospital in Montreal, I met a CNN crew outside to update them. There were no other media there – in 1989 the Internet and cell phones weren’t around to transmit news instantaneously, and CNN was pioneering the cable TV revolution. Doctors took X-rays, placed a cast on Dave’s arm and discharged him. He took a taxi back to the Giants’ hotel, where he met briefly with the traveling beat writers and our broadcasters.
Robin and I, meanwhile, were up most of the night answering phone calls from reporters and radio stations around the country as the news spread. She continued on the road trip and I flew back to San Francisco, as did Dravecky.
A few months later, Dravecky’s cancer returned, and his left arm and shoulder were amputated to save his life.
But he had his wish – he finished his final season undefeated.
Duffy,
WOW… what an experience! Your blog was something that this Dave Dravecky fan really enjoyed reading. Thank you for sharing this memory with the rest of us!
Ray
I remember making a sign when I was a child, walking around the field @ Candlestick because of Dave. I didn’t know all that much about cancer then, and still don’t now. But I remember he was a lefty, like me. And he was hurt. But I still remember that day. And I still love the game…