Long before he recruited him to play at the University of Arizona, Jerry Kindall knew Terry Francona, not that his first impression was favorable.
Kindall and Francona's father, Tito, were teammates on the Cleveland Indians. "We were in spring training in 1962," Kindall said, "and my daughter, who was 4 at the time, was playing in the sandbox outside of the bungalow where we were staying. She comes in the house, crying, saying some boy had thrown sand in her eyes.
"It was Terry Francona, the little rascal."
Francona was past the sand-throwing stage by the time Brad Mills met him, but Mills wasn't much impressed, either. Mills was a junior college transfer, from California, the College of the Sequoias, Kindall having offered him a scholarship on the spot after seeing him tear up a tournament in which he'd come to scout a couple of other players. Kindall couldn't stop talking about one of his incoming freshmen, Terry Francona. Together, Kindall promised Mills, he and Terry could do great things for the Wildcats.
"I was an older guy, staying in the athletic dorm, which was a little nicer and bigger than the freshman dorm, and we went down there one night to meet everyone," Mills said. "There was a major league game on TV, we're all watching it. I start going around the room, introducing myself. There's this guy lying on the couch. He's wearing blue jean cutoffs and red high-top Chuck Taylors. His hair is well past his shoulders. He's lying there and I say, 'Brad Mills.' He says, 'Terry Francona.'
"I stood back and said, ' You're Terry Francona?' He says, 'Yeah.' I'm saying, 'You're kidding me.' I'm thinking, 'What a disappointment.' "
Terry Francona, a tremendous hitter out of high school in New Brighton, Pa., was a "scared to death freshman who wanted to go home," said Kindall, who had Francona cut his hair the next day.
"All I wanted to do was get Coors Light," Francona said. "I was 18 years old, living in the dorm, typical." One night, teammates grabbed Francona, wearing only his underwear, tied him to a chair, stuck him outside Kindall's hotel room, and knocked. Kindall was not amused. "He could be stern," Francona said, "especially with me."
Special qualities
Mills was quiet, mature, the one guy on the team who was married. A third baseman, he was the first college player Kindall ever recalls seeing with a notebook stuck in his jacket on the bench, one in which he kept notes on every pitcher he faced. "He was ahead of his time," Kindall said. "Our hitting coach, Jerry Stitt, said he was maybe the best pure hitter we ever had."
