FoundSF

Historical Essay

by Matt Sieger

Dave Dravecky

Photo courtesy of San Francisco Giants

This is an excerpt from a book by Matt Sieger, The God Squad: The Born-Again San Francisco Giants of 1978:

The second version of the God Squad included five pitchers—Atlee Hammaker, a Giant from 1982 to 1990, Scott Garrelts (1982–1991), Dave Dravecky (1987–1989), Jeff Brantley (1988–1993), and Craig Lefferts (1987–1989). Outfielders Brett Butler (1988–1990), Kevin Bass (1990–92), and Candy Maldonado (1986–1989), catcher Gary Carter (1990), and utility men Dave Anderson (1990–91) and Greg Litton (1989–92) were also born-again Giants. And Houston traded Bob Knepper back to the Giants in 1989.

In September 1989, the Santa Rosa Press Democrat reported that as many as fifteen Giants out of the twenty-four-man base roster attended chapel services.

A year earlier, misunderstanding had grown between the God Squadders and some teammates, fed, in part, by the press. Dravecky described it:

I and three other pitchers -- Scott Garrelts, Jeff Brantley, and Atlee Hammaker -- had been up front about being believers, and we did not hide our faith under a bushel. The beat writers, always looking for something to write about, coined a term for our quartet, the “God Squad.” They might as well have pinned bull’s-eyes on the back of our uniforms for all the good it did us. Anything and everything we said could be interpreted by our teammates as “holier than thou.” If we commented that we didn’t go to R-rated movies with tons of nudity and sex, then our teammates thought we were judging them. If we said that we preferred to have a Bible study in our hotel rooms after a road game, that was interpreted as being anti-social by our teammates.

After a while, the “God Squad” term became a pejorative. It certainly made life difficult for us in the clubhouse as reporters constantly probed other ballplayers about their feelings regarding the “religious” pitchers on their team. Scott, Jeff, Atlee, and I read anonymous quotes from our teammates questioning whether we had what it took to be winners. Some felt that we were too “passive” or “weak” because we shrugged off defeat, thinking it must have been “God’s will.”

That was a bunch of baloney because I know I fought with everything I had when I was on the mound . . . If the media has a weakness, it’s called writing from the “template.” The template for Christian ballplayers is that we are too nice to be winners, that we lack intensity and determination at crunch time, and that when we lose, we shrug our shoulders and mumble, “Praise the Lord.”'

Henry Schulman, the Giants’ beat writer for the Oakland Tribune at the time, strongly supports Dravecky’s view. He told this author:

In dealing with the second wave of God Squadders, I never got the sense that they felt wins and losses had anything to do with God, Satan or anything else besides how they play. That was a bum rap. That said, I always felt among these players a surety that their faith in God was rewarded in kind by the health and strength to perform to their abilities. You often hear players in postgame interviews thank God for their physical abilities and health.

There was nothing passive about any of the athletes I covered on the field, and I don’t think their teammates felt that way either. Dravecky, Garrelts, Carter and Brantley were among the most competitive I covered.

Dravecky received support from his manager, Roger Craig. After the southpaw spun a two-hit complete game shutout against the Cardinals in Game 2 of the 1987 National League Championship Series, he was led to a media room next to the locker room, where Craig was answering questions. When the manager looked up and saw Dravecky, he said, “They say Christians don’t have any guts. Well, this guy’s a Christian and he’s not afraid of anything.”

Dravecky demonstrated that courage in a remarkable chain of events that began in 1988. He had surgery to remove a cancerous tumor in his pitching arm in October of that year. The operation involved removing half of the deltoid muscle and freezing the humerus bone in an attempt to eliminate all the cancerous cells. In what many called a miraculous return to baseball, Dravecky pitched eight-innings in a 4–3 victory over the Cincinnati Reds on August 10, 1989, at Candlestick Park in front of 34,810 roaring fans.

Writing in 1999 for the San Francisco Chronicle, where he was the Giants’ beat writer from 1998 until his retirement in 2020, Schulman recalled that game played ten years earlier:

Dravecky did not exactly fit the San Francisco mold. His politics were right of Ronald Reagan’s, and he was a born-again Christian. But . . . when Dravecky returned to the mound at Candlestick Park for the first time after battling cancer in his arm for more than a year, everyone—politics and religion not withstanding—felt a kinship with the man. On a beautiful afternoon, with not a wisp of wind in the air, the applause began as soon as Dravecky stepped out of the tunnel to begin his pregame warmups. The applause turned into an ovation, one of many he got that day as he not only pitched, but won, beating the Cincinnati Reds. There were lumps in tens of thousands of throats.

Five days after his big win, while pitching in Montreal, Dravecky felt a tingling sensation in his arm in the fifth inning. Then, in the sixth inning, on his first pitch to Tim Raines, Dravecky’s humerus bone shattered, the sound heard throughout the stadium as Dravecky collapsed on the mound.

San Francisco Chronicle sportswriter Bruce Jenkins was amazed at Dravecky’s equanimity when the pitcher met with the Bay Area press the morning after his injury. Jenkins wrote:

He had the same calm, relaxed look on his face, the same glow in his eye, the same attitude that said, “My life is going just great.” That's the Dravecky we've always known, and it's the one we've got today. If you are put off by the open preachings of Christian athletes, then maybe his story is not for you. But Dravecky's beliefs are at the heart of his strength. That became abundantly clear in the wake of an injury that sent shock waves through the baseball world.

Jenkins also noted how Dravecky’s born-again teammates rallied around him when the pitcher returned to his hotel room the night of his injury. Jenkins wrote, “Within minutes, his best friends on the team were there: Garrelts, Bob Knepper, Jeff Brantley and Greg Litton. The five of them, all of whom share a vigorous belief in Christianity, stayed in Dravecky's room from midnight until 5 a.m., talking things over.”

Dravecky’s faith and courage had an impact on his other Giants teammates. Although he had felt there was division between the Christians and non-Christians in 1988, he said that was not a problem on the 1989 team.

“I think there’s a camaraderie on this club,” he said near the close of the 1989 regular season. “I also think there’s a genuine respect from the players on the team that might not choose to attend (chapel), and that’s obviously important.”

Dravecky’s cancer returned and his left arm and shoulder had to be amputated in June 1991. On July 16, the Associated Press reported on the first time Dravecky spoke publicly after the operation:

Looking fit and rested, Dravecky said, “There’s adjustments that I have to make, but there’s nothing out there that I don’t want to do.” . . . Although his future won’t include baseball, Dravecky said he will swim, play golf and tennis, and engage in other sports he was unable to enjoy in the past because of his baseball contract. He also has a full schedule of speaking engagements.

Appearing with his wife, Janice, at the Christian Booksellers Association annual convention in Orlando [Florida], Dravecky credited his religious faith for helping him overcome his cancer problems, which began in 1988. He said he is feeling extremely well despite “phantom pain” in his missing left hand and fingers—not an unusual occurrence in amputees.

Dravecky did have one regret about his time in the big leagues:

Playing for the Padres and the Giants during the time I did when the “God Squad” was a big deal, the reality is that my teammates were extremely respectful of where we were at on our journey. I'm very grateful for the respect that my teammates showed us as we were attempting to lead out our lives as Christians, which we didn't do perfectly.

If I were to do anything different, I would have probably spent more time in bars. Often I got invited by guys who simply wanted to go out, grab a beer, get something to eat—usually that was at the bar—and just hang out. I said, “No, cant' go there.” And that's exactly where Jesus went and that’s exactly where I should have been because I didn't have an issue with whether or not I was going to drink too much. I knew when to say no. And quite frankly, here's a guy who wants to spend time with me and I'm saying I can't go into the bar. “Well, here we go the Holy Roller.”

If there's any regret it would have been engaging more with everybody in the clubhouse. That was just a period of time in my life where I was young and dumb. I didn't get it.

Matt Sieger, now retired, is a former sports reporter and columnist for The Vacaville Reporter.