Dr. Baseball’s story hits big screen
Ron Taylor’s sons document dad’s career from big-league pitcher to Blue Jays doctor
Ron Taylor is an unassuming, recently retired medical doctor from midtown Toronto who has a degree in engineering and four World Series rings. He was a pitcher, a reliever who, according to former catcher Tim McCarver, “threw so hard that it felt like he was doing something illegal.”
Taylor would go on to tour field hospitals during the war in Vietnam. He would return to school in his mid-30s, join the medical staff for the nascent Toronto Blue Jays and throw batting practice sessions for years afterward. He became, in effect, Dr. Baseball.
That is how his sons Drew and Matthew refer to him in a short documentary film on his life released earlier this year. In “Ron Taylor: Dr. Baseball,” a list of celebrity teammates help tell a story that is likely unknown to many Canadian baseball fans.
“He’s very quiet, very shy,” said Matthew. “You really have to search to find that story, and I think that’s a big reason why my brother and I wanted to make this documentary.”
“Whatever path your parents have taken, I think it’s a really amazing thing to do, to sit down and interview your parents,” said Drew, the eldest. “You will learn a lot about your parents, and probably a lot about yourself, too.”
Ron Taylor signed as an amateur free agent with the Cleveland Indians when he was still just a teenager, and soon refused to attend spring training. He wanted to finish school, to earn an engineering degree from the University of Toronto. He told the Indians he would only pitch for the organization in the summer, and the organization relented.
He made his big-league debut with the Indians in 1962, but was shipped to the St. Louis Cardinals that winter. He won the World Series with the Cardinals two years later, and he won his second with the New York Mets in 1969 — and he would finish his career without allowing a single run over10 innings in six post-season appearances.
Near the end of his career, he joined the USO for a goodwill tour of Vietnam. He saw the men in hospitals, and he saw how they suffered.
“He wasn’t a singer,” said Drew. “So it was more of a one-on-one experience.”
Taylor decided he wanted to become a doctor. In 1974, he was a 36year-old sophomore on his way to earning a medical degree at the U of T. By 1979, he was at spring training, this time in a medical capacity. He was on staff with the Blue Jays for both World Series wins, in 1992 and in 1993.
“I mean, we’re getting an engineer, we’re getting a batting practice pitcher and we’re getting a physician,” former Blue Jays general manager Pat Gillick says with a smile in the film. “We’re getting a three-in-one, you know? I said, ‘How could you have a better deal?’ ”
Drew Taylor is 33 years old, and has no living memory of his father as a player. He said he grew up knowing him as Dr. Taylor, as an occasional batting practice pitcher with the Blue Jays who would sometimes play in old-timers’ games.
Like his father, Drew Taylor also became a pitcher. He was a left-hander, but he would also become a reliever. He played in the Blue Jays farm system, and he bounced around the minors before injuries led to his retirement.
“When I wanted advice, he would work with me,” the eldest son said of his father. “But he wouldn’t force me into baseball.”
He did stress education, though. And again, Drew Taylor would follow his father, with a PhD in biomedical engineering from the U of T. His brother Matthew went to Queen’s University in Kingston. Together, they founded Film House Inc., a film and television production company based in Toronto.
Two years ago, the company released “Our Man In Tehran,” a feature documentary on Canadian diplomat Ken Taylor (no relation), and his role in the Iranian hostage crisis. It debuted at the Toronto International Film Festival.
The documentary on their father is 20 minutes long, and after touring it through several film festivals, they are looking to find it a home on Canadian television. The goal, Drew Taylor said, is to have it on air in time for spring training.
His father, now 77, was asked whether he thought the film might inspire others to follow in his footsteps. He chuckled: “I don’t know how big my footsteps are.”