‘Swing hard.’ Memories, wit and wisdom in the words of Atlanta Braves icon Dale Murphy
Editor’s note: As America’s pastime begins anew in an abbreviated, 60-game campaign brought on by the coronavirus pandemic, we dug into Telegraph archives for a conversation with a player who remains one of the most beloved Atlanta Braves ever, Dale Murphy. In 2008, reporter Joe Kovac Jr. spoke with Murphy in an interview that was part of The Telegraph’s “This I Know” series. Murphy’s words of wisdom, his recollections and life lessons — in paragraph form and lightly edited for clarity — appear below:
There’s a certain euphoria between home and first base as you’re running and you know the ball is going out. I wish I could go back and see what it was like one more time.
When I was 8 years old and I first started playing baseball, my first year I got one hit the whole year. But I don’t ever remember thinking that wasn’t very good.
Always be encouraging. Always see the positive.
I grew up in (Portland) Oregon. One of the first things I think about is Wiffle Ball. We’d go down to the park and we’d water the grass so you could slide and do belly slides. I can remember marking out a short left-field fence and a long right-field fence. Of course, we didn’t have any wall. We just had shoes and T-shirts marking it.
My theory of hitting was “swing hard in case you hit it.”
It’s good to walk once in a while. But I wasn’t big on that.
One of the most misleading phrases is, “He’s a man’s man.”
A man’s man, to me, is humble. He’s compassionate and cares about others. He’s unselfish and sticks up for things that are right.
I watch baseball on TV and I still think I’m 26 or 27. I guess maybe you get to the point to where you accept it.
I got to shake hands with Ted Williams once at the Hall of Fame exhibition game. The Braves went up there and we played somebody. So I go up to Ted Williams and I go, “Hey, good to meet you.” He goes, “Dale Murphy.” He goes, “You’ve got to get a better pitch to hit.” He goes, “You’ve got to swing at more strikes, man. You’re swinging at too many balls.” Apparently he’d been down there in Florida watching all of our games on TBS.
Ted Turner walked through the clubhouse one day. I don’t know how good things were going, but I don’t think they were going that good. He looked over at me across the locker room, he goes, “Hey, Murph, don’t worry about that slump you’re in. You’re saving me hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
Everybody wants to be respected. So how do you get respect from others? Well, it’s something that you give before you can get it. It’s not something that’s earned, demanded or coerced out of people. It’s very simple. If you respect others, they’ll respect you.
With all the different religious beliefs, different faiths, different countries, different backgrounds, what was fun about baseball was coming together as a team.
One of the toughest things for a parent is to see your kids make their own decisions. It’s so much easier to make the decision for them.
There’s a lot of things God cares about, but my feeling is that the thing he cares about the most is what kind of husbands and wives we are. And what kind of fathers and mothers we are.
There are times when I look back on my career and probably wish I was a little more open and maybe didn’t guard my feelings as much about things that frustrated me and things that were going good and going bad.
I still can’t figure out why we haven’t gotten rid of the DH.
I can remember someone saying, “Murph, you know what you could do if you got on those things?” — steroids — and I just kind of was like, “It just isn’t right.”
There’s right and then there’s wrong. To me — and with most guys — there was never really a question whether you should or shouldn’t take steroids. It was wrong. You may get away with it. You may make a lot of money. You may hit a lot of home runs. Still doesn’t make it right.
Love is caring more for the person you love than for yourself.
I struck out with the bases loaded in Philadelphia. (I was with the Phillies then and nothing like this would have happened in Atlanta.) I finally made my way out to right field and wasn’t too excited about things. Some guy was yelling at me. I didn’t like to look in the stands, you know, but the guy’s on me and I turn around and look at him. I gave him a look of, you know, get off my back. So out of the corner of my eye I watch this guy. In between pitches, I can see him and he’s walking back to his seat. He was sitting behind home plate. He’d come all the way out to right field to yell at me. I couldn’t believe it. There’s a devoted Phillies fan.
Maybe I’m weird, but I love to go back by my house where I grew up, where my first memories start to form. I know it drives my kids crazy.
I believe in the eternities. I believe that life goes on after this and that we’re here to prepare for that life and to help each other get through this life. When we lose that perspective — of what this life is about, that it’s really just a short little time frame to help us prepare for the eternities — that’s when things get out of whack.
In so many ways I grew up in the South. I got there when I was 18, left there when I was 38, 39. All our kids were born in Atlanta. Even now, when I call somebody on the phone — Delta or some place with an answering service — and I get somebody from the South, that just makes me feel good to hear someone talk like that.
I just inherited a car from my kids. I thought it went the other way around. But I’m driving a Subaru Legacy Outback right now with 100,000 miles on it — and I love it.
I can remember walking up the tunnel in Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium after having a real rough day, striking out. I don’t know if I struck out to end the game — probably, I don’t remember the details. But I do know it was a rough one, and (third-base coach) Bobby Dews saying, “Murph, you showing up tomorrow?” I was like, “Yeah, I think so.”
You’ve got to show up tomorrow.
This story was originally published July 24, 2020 at 9:58 AM.