Braves closer not ashamed to be off his Rocker
ATLANTA -- This is everything you need to know about John Rocker.
Where other Braves decorate their clubhouse cubicles with family photos and the like, Rocker displays a large, autographed photo of Goldberg. He entered a press conference Monday wearing a sleeveless Goldberg T-shirt.
As the more sophisticated and urbane readers know, this is Bill Goldberg, not Whoopi. Goldberg is the pr wrestling superstar, and former All-SEC defender at Georgia, who punctuates his predictable pins with an angry grimace and a primal scream. (The uninitiated are asked to imagine "The Addams Family's" Uncle
Fester after six years in the gym and jacked up on 16 cups of coffee.)
Which is exactly how Rocker punctuates his predictable punch-outs. He is indeed the Goldberg of the bullpen. Both are a marriage of supreme athleticism, imposing size, raging intensity, and no small amount of theatrics.
The 24-year-old Rocker had plenty of moments to shine this past weekend at the National League Division Series.
In Friday's scintillating 12-inning game, Rocker entered with the bases loaded and nobody out in the 10th inning and escaped the jam, albeit with Walt Weiss'soon-to-be-historic stop. Rocker ended up with the win. On Saturday, he retired the last 4 Astros to collect a save.
All told, Rocker faced 12 batters, whiffed 5, and didn't allow a hit in the series. This, after a season in which he had 38 saves (one shy of the club record) and struck out 104 in 74 innings. (For the record, he was a perfect 5-for-5 in save opportunities against the Mets, holding them scoreless while striking out 11 in seven innings.)
It is almost enough to silence the talk and erase the sour memories that the bullpen is Atlanta's weak spot.
Rocker literally sprinted into this role as the Braves' closer. May 5, 1998 was a nondescript game against the Dodgers. Mark Wohlers had just gone back to the minors, searching for his control. Rocker was promoted quietly from AAA Richmond.
In the ninth inning, the bullpen gate opened in right field, and this hulking figure came furiously running to the mound. The crowd sat stunned in disbelief.
Not too many years ago, relievers were chauffeured from the bullpen in gaudy golf carts, like emperors delivered by chariot. Them here comes this massive man-child, looking like the neighbor's Rottweilers were chasing him.
Now, Rocker's spring prompts great roars of excitement. Then his hat-tugging,rosin bag-flipping, sleeve-tugging antics on the mound, accompanied by the occasional 99 mph fastball zooming out of the strike zone, cause Atlanta loyalists high blood pressure.
A couch-potato Braves fanatic of my acquaintance summed it up nicely: "You know who I love, but can't stand watching? That John Rocker. He makes me a nervous wreck."
Watching John Rocker would make a corpse a nervous wreck.
In the 1970s, the Baltimore Orioles had a reliever named Don Stanhouse. ManagerEarl Weaver nicknamed him "Full Pack." That's because Weaver would sneak up the tunnel and go through a full pack of smokes while waiting on the deliberate Stanhouse, who pitched like a man on a tightrope, to escape an inning.
Same with Rocker. He has probably done wonders for, if not the beleaguered tobacco industry, at least the purveyors of ulcer medicine and other remedies for stomach ailments.
On Monday, I asked Rocker if he ever saw himself mellowing in his old age.
He laughed vigorously, both at the question and himself, then tugged at his cap.
"I hope I do (mellow)," he said. "I don't think I can keep up at this pace with how many ever years I have left. I think if I keep up with the frantic pace I go at now, I'll probably die young."
"I think sooner or later I'll have to calm down. Or I'll burn out trying."
Or he'll make a lot of nerve-wracked Braves fans die younger than they should.
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