By season’s end, the Pirates had dusted the Expos by nine games. Wakefield was 8-1 and, Duquette believed, the primary reason his Expos were watching the playoffs. Duquette would not forget Wakefield.
In the years to come, Duquette played a central role in Wakefield’s baseball career, one of the innumerable people the game weaved into Wakefield’s life between that first start and today, the eve of Wakefield’s improbable first appearance in the All-Star Game.
Wakefield, 42, has played 17 major league seasons and in Boston for 15 years. His selection to the All-Star Game resonated throughout baseball and the city in a unique way. When a man who stays in one place for that long reaches a pinnacle, the accomplishment can mean something different to more people than he may know.
Doc’s diagnosis
Doc Edwards manages an independent league team in San Angelo, Texas, these days. He is “two years older than dirt,’’ he said, and going on his 52d year in baseball. He was a backup catcher once traded for Dick Howser. He played with Tito Francona and coached Terry Francona. In 1994, he managed the Triple A Buffalo Bisons, and one of his pitchers was Tim Wakefield.
Two years prior, Wakefield had been an October hero, a sensation in Pittsburgh, where people actually debated whether he should pitch in Game 7 of the NLCS on zero days rest. Now he was back in the minors, his fall as rapid as his rise, a pitcher who couldn’t get anyone out.
After one short start, Wakefield smashed the bat box. He still fumed in the clubhouse when Edwards walked in. Edwards had handled dozens of veterans staring at life without baseball. He believed they needed an arm around their shoulder, sympathy, and a soft landing.
Edwards saw something else in Wakefield. He had watched hundreds of pitchers go bad and recover by reverting to their ground level. Well, Wakefield’s basics meant playing first base. Wouldn’t it take him longer to figure himself out?
