Guy was in drug rehab just a few years ago, no? Dies at 38? Gotta be an OD. RIP Shooter. Love those stories about him hanging outside the RV sharing beers with fans.
What a relief it was to have 'Shooter' aroundScott OstlerMonday, June 25, 2007Everything you need to know about Rod "Shooter'' Beck you learned from the bush leagues.Like: Put your money back in your pocket, dude, Shooter's buying.Some guys will buy a round for their buddies, or maybe for the house. Beck would buy rounds for Des Moines.Beck, 38, was found dead Saturday, and one of the memories stirred by the tragic news was from the spring of '03 and Beck was toast as a pitcher, trying to revive his career after elbow surgery. The Cubs gave him a shot, assigning him to their Triple-A club in Des Moines, Iowa. Beck was angry, embarrassed and discouraged as he drove his motor home to his minor-league assignment."At least three times I almost turned that sucker (motor home) around and said (forget) it," Beck said later that year.He drove the motor home because to check into a hotel would have been to concede that he actually was in the minors. He wouldn't even rent a space at an RV park. He parked his rig behind the center-field fence, a getaway car with the motor figuratively running.But even a bummed-out Shooter was still Shooter. When his teammates were pooling their money for a postgame pizza, Beck invited everyone to his RV. From then on, Beck's bus was the postgame party, for players and fans, every night. Beck would light the little neon cocktail light in his window and haul out tubs of iced beer."Those guys (his teammates) talk about what I gave them," Beck said later that season. "What they don't realize is what they gave to me. They're making $1,500, trying to pay rent and afford a beer after the game, and their enthusiasm gave me a new vigor for the game. I started to enjoy it again."The once-fearsome fireballer pitched his way back to the big leagues with the Padres that year and saved 20 games with a fastball that wouldn't break a pitcher of beer.Beck was a favorite of writers, not just because he was a great quote and willing talker, but because he treated non-players as actual people. He was the writers' go-to guy, the man you could count on to explain even the toughest of losses. Except for one night, when Beck blew a huge save and, shaken and distraught, waved away the writers.The next day before the game Beck called the writers to his locker and apologized. Superstar apologizing to writers: In baseball, this occurs as often as a quadruple play.On the mound, at the peak of his game, Beck was pure badass. He didn't just walk into a game, he kicked down the door. It was great theater, but no act.He said the only reason he decided to go to Des Moines in '03 was that his two daughters, then aged 10 and 9, had never really seen Daddy pitchKayla, then 10, watched Shooter's first performance in Des Moines, as he came out of the bullpen like a rodeo bull out of the chute, got the right arm rocking and mowed down the opposition."Cool!" Kayla said.It would be a shame, though, if all we remember are Beck's theatrics.In '93, with the division on the line, Beck pitched eight times in a nine-day stretch in late September and early October, getting a win and six saves.His most dramatic save came in '97, in September against the Dodgers at Candlestick, a game the Giants would use as momentum to win their first division title since '89, launching the Bonds-Sabean era.Beck came on to pitch the 10th, gave up three singles to load the bases and, with the fans booing him, fanned Todd Zeile, then got Eddie Murray to ground into a double play."Beck stormed off the mound like a grizzly," wrote Tim Keown in The Chronicle, "the crowd roared down at Beck and Beck pumped his fist against his glove and roared right back at it."Beck enjoyed a beer and a cigarette. He had a glass boot, and after home games, he would fill the boot from the clubhouse beer tap, light up, and kick back. Not surprisingly, his weight was often a concern for the Giants. A yearly spring tradition was a story on Beck titled something like, "Beck's weighty issue."He took occasional stabs at conditioning programs, most notably when he pitched for the Red Sox late in his career and got himself absolutely buff."I got down to 9.2 percent body fat and blew out my elbow," Beck said. "So I said, '(Screw) this, give me some grease and donuts.' "Beck took an equally direct approach to his famed mullet. Once his hairline began to recede, he mowed off all his hair."I don't #####foot around," Beck said. "I'm either gonna have hair or I'm not."But when Beck pitched for the Giants, the gut and the hair were part of the package, part of the show.A year ago in a phone interview with writer Matt Johanson for a Giants' book titled, "Game of My Life," Beck said he had a part in an independent movie called "Work Week." He would play a Mafia hit man who did the killings that were too dirty for the other hit men."Actually, it's the same kind of thing," Beck said. "Here's the ball, here's the knife. What's the difference?"Now Shooter is gone, and many questions remain. But you can be sure of this: Wherever he is, he's buying.E-mail Scott Ostler at sostler@sfchronicle.com.
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Despite playing for the Cubs during part of my childhood, I always found Beck to be an entertaining guy to watch on the mound. He was a throwback to the Al Hrabosky's and Goose Gossage's of the baseball world: guys that played with an attitude and had the look to go with it. As RedRaiders said earlier, his story about living in an RV in an independent league was very well done. The guy just wanted to be around the game of baseball.RIP Beckster.
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tip one back for shooter
