OC Register: Whicker: Bruce Kison lived a high-and-tight baseball life

[AngelsWin.com]

• Mike Schmidt of the Phillies, left, used his fists to protest being hit by a pitch thrown by the Pirates Bruce Kison, July 8, 1977, Pittsburgh, Pa. Schmidt was ejected from the game and both benches emptied before calm was restored. The fight took place in the seventh inning. (AP Photo)

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• FILE – In this Oct. 10, 1979, file photo, Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher Bruce Kison delivers to a Baltimore Orioles batter during Game 1 of the baseball World Series, in Baltimore, Md. Kison, who helped the Pirates win two World Series in the 1970s, has died of cancer. He was 68. His wife, Anna Marie, said Kison died Saturday, June 2, 2018, at the Tidewell Hospice in Bradenton, Fla. (AP Photo/Ray Stubblebine, File)

• Bruce Kison throws to the plate during Game 2 of the American League Championship series between the Angels and the Milwaukee Brewers on Oct. 6, 1982 at Angel Stadium. (AP Photo)

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Bruce Kison was 21 years old when his fastball hit Frank Robinson. That was the equivalent of tugging on Superman’s cape, then stomping it.

Robinson was the crustiest, spikes-up superstar in baseball. Kison looked like the clarinet player in the Pasco, Wash., high school band.

Kison hit three Baltimore Orioles that night in 1971. He also slid so hard that he wound up wearing the hat of Davey Johnson, the second baseman.

Kison also pitched 6-1/3 innings of relief and gave up one hit. Pittsburgh won 4-3 and tied the World Series, 2-2. They won Game 7 in Baltimore, as Steve Blass threw a complete-game four-hitter.

By then Kison was the first prime-time celebrity in baseball history. Game 4 was the first World Series game played at night. Soon the nation learned that Kison had scheduled his wedding for the night of Game 7 back in Pittsburgh, with teammate Bob Moose at his best man.

Asked why on earth he had made such a scheduling turnover, Kison shrugged. “I can always change it,” he said, meaning the wedding.

Kison and Moose left the champagne behind, although Moose didn’t leave much of it, and they got a helicopter to the airport and flew home to the church.

Kison saw Blass on the way out and said, “Thanks for making it quick.”

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Along the way, Kison’s body and reputation would flesh out. He would have been Chase Utley’s soulmate.

He was distant from the media, beloved by his mates, committed to a baseball ethic born before television. Kison hit only 68 batters in his career, but he buzzed quite a few others and never refused a batter’s invitation to a duel.

Kison died June 2 at his home in Bradenton, Fla., where the Pirates trained. The girl of the Game 7 wedding, Anna Marie, was still there.

He was with the Angels from 1980-84, where they called him Buster, and he retired at 35 with a record of 115-88 and an ERA of 3.66.

Funny, how the printed stats are there for all time, and yet they fade before the stories do.

“He told me that you can’t expect to play baseball without a bloody lip,” said Geoff Zahn, his Angels teammate and car-pool partner.

The Pirates and Phillies turned the NL East into their personal octagon. One night in 1977 Kison gave up a homer to Garry Maddox. Mike Schmidt, established All-Star, came up two batters later. Kison hit him in the back.

“Next time I’m coming out there,” Schmidt yelled.

“Why wait?” Kison replied.

Soldiers leaped out of the bullpens and dugouts. But Blass said Kison thought better of Schmidt after that.

“He was like Clint Eastwood to me,” Blass said of Kison. “He could be stern, and he had no use for anyone who disrespected the game.

“He demanded his pitching room. He had figured out that 76 percent of the outs were on pitches on the outside corner. If you wanted to dive to get out there, you had to know what was coming. And then he would protect his teammates. Loyalty was his biggest thing.”

Marcel Lachemann was Kison’s pitching coach in Anaheim. Sometimes he could dissuade Kison from knocking down hitters. Sometimes he couldn’t.

“He’d say, ‘I gotta drop this guy,’ and I’d say, ‘No, let’s do it another time,’’’ Lachemann said.

The Angels and Royals turned a 1998 game into a shooting gallery. There were five batters hit, and the suspensions totaled 22 games. The Royals had targeted Phil Nevin, and Chris Haney drilled him first. Jim Pittsley, who was in the bathroom at the time and didn’t know, came in and hit Nevin, too.

“It was ugly,” Lachemann said, laughing, “but Buster was Kansas City’s bullpen coach. I have no idea if he had anything to do with it, but some of our guys went after him.”

Kison’s finest hours in Anaheim came after a haunted year. In 1981 he had ulnar nerve problems and had surgery that was by no means a sure thing. His fingers were numb and he volunteered to return his free-agent salary to the club.

But in 1982 he beat Milwaukee in Game 2 of the best-of-5 ALCS. Milwaukee won Game 5, but Kison had a 3-2 lead when he came out.

Kison became a coach and a scout. His back tormented him in spring training. He had signed up as a fantasy camp counselor and did not beg off, even though Blass had to help him put on the uniform. By then kidney cancer had spread irrevocably.

“You wanted him on your ballclub,” Blass said, pronouncing the epitaph in the six or fewer words Kison preferred.

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