For Maddux, learning just never stopped
Greg Maddux' major-league debut wasn't memorable.
Maybe I was at Wrigley Field that day, on the field before the game, up in the press box, down in the clubhouse snatching a glimpse of the new guy.
Can't remember.
However, Maddux provided unforgettable memories between then and his anticipated official retirement announcement Monday.
Dodgers general manager Ned Colletti, who worked for the Cubs when Maddux arrived, recalls a story relayed to him by longtime scout and former big-league pitcher Dick Tidrow.
The year was 1992, and Maddux would be eligible for free agency at season's end. Tidrow was at Wrigley Field that spring to scout for the Yankees, who were interested in acquiring Maddux.
Tidrow came up with an excuse to go into the Cubs' clubhouse before the game, just to see how Maddux prepares.
The way Maddux prepared that day was to sit at a table playing solitaire. Tidrow walked past him, Maddux didn't look up, nothing at all was said, and neither man acknowledged the other's presence with as much as a nod.
That September, Tidrow returned to Wrigley Field to take another look at Maddux. Same drill - he went into the clubhouse to check out the imminent free agent who was about to win the first of his four straight Cy Young Awards.
Again Tidrow walked past Maddux, who again was sitting at a table playing solitaire. Remember, this was months after Tidrow's initial visit.
Finally Maddux said, "Back again, huh?"
The first encounter that was no encounter at all, well, it wasn't lost on Maddux. Nothing in baseball was lost on him the past 22 years.
As Colletti said after relating that story to me a couple of years ago, "It showed how perceptive Maddux is - nothing gets past him."
Anyone who ever spent any time around Maddux knows that. He won 355 games with his eyes and brains as much as with location and change of speeds.
My fondest memory of Maddux involves the first spring training of his second tour with the Cubs in 2004.
Manager Dusty Baker brought in Vince Coleman to teach pitchers how great baserunners try to disrupt them.
The classroom was a side field at Fitch Park in Mesa with hardly anyone watching. Coleman demonstrated and his pupils listened with varying degrees of attentiveness.
When class ended they all straggled toward the clubhouse. Only one pitcher walked in with Coleman to pick his brain some more.
Need I tell you it was Greg Maddux?
Then there was the night in Houston that same season. The Cubs took batting practice before retreating into their clubhouse.
In the Astros' dugout, manager Jimy Williams looked across to the Cubs' dugout. Sitting alone watching Astros hitters take their cuts, Maddux made mental notes in search of an edge.
"That," Williams said pointing over, "is why he's going to the Hall of Fame."
It was my privilege to be around the Cubs the year Maddux arrived, to cover a World Series he pitched in for the Braves and to be in the park when he recorded some of those 355 career victories.
But even more memorable than watching Maddux win baseball games was watching him win mind games.
mimrem@dailyherald.com