GROUNDBREAKER
Giving the Astros a good place to play has been Berry’s task for 46 years
W illie Berry ran around in a space suit, perfecting the Astrodome when it still wowed the world. Berry befriended Nolan Ryan and Joe Niekro, became close with the world champion “We Are Family” Pittsburgh Pirates and was on his way in when Hank Aaron and Willie Mays were on their way out.
Astros president Reid Ryan, Nolan’s son, remembers being a kid and sitting with Berry in the Dome’s “catfish hole,” then learning how to pack a major league pitching mound like a pro from the guy who seemed to live at the park in the early 1980s.
When the 2017 Astros are at Minute Maid Park, manager A.J. Hinch exercises daily at about 11 a.m. Berry’s already at work, eight hours before the first pitch, always “doing something.”
“I’ve never seen him have a bad day, and I’ve never seen him not do his job,” Hinch said.
Berry is 69. For the last 46 years, he has been with the Astros.
Sometimes I fool myself, saying I’ve lived a full life before I’m 40. Berry has been working in Major League Baseball longer than I’ve been alive, and he can add several more years to his surreal 46 when he revealed he initially worked for the Dome’s cleanup crew.
So when Berry promises this could be his last year with the Astros — maybe, possibly — this is what you get. Reid Ryan: “I’ve heard that before.” Hinch: “Yeah, right.”
Astros ace Dallas Keuchel: “I appreciate everything he does. I wish he would stay here for 20 more years.”
More than any other sport, baseball is made up of people who are barely known and never played the game. The old woman who kindly greets your family as you walk through the gate. The bullpen catcher who gloves warmup heat from a starting pitcher about to strike out the side.
The man who has been around the Astros for almost five decades and still swears there’s nothing like another day at the ballpark.
“There’s just something about his spirit that is just very endearing to the players, to the other groundskeepers, to the fans,” Ryan said. “He’s a character and a celebrity of the ballpark, and he’s a big piece of the Astros.”
Life in the sanctuary
Berry’s official job title is just one word: groundskeeper. His primary responsibility is the mound. He packs, sweeps, surveys and watches over the sacred circular space. If every good job requires a little art, Berry is a classic MLB artist whose medium is dirt.
“The ballpark is a sanctuary,” Keuchel said. “If you get a good one, it’s a very nice sanctuary.”
Before Game 1 of 162, I spent some time with Berry. He said he’d gladly speak as soon as he could, then added, “I’ve got to go check on the mound real quick.”
In the back of a golf cart with an attached trailer were tools: brooms and a shovel. Two bags of infield conditioner rested on a cushioned seat, while red dirt-covered gloves were crumpled on a dirtstained floorboard. Then Berry got to work. A tightly wound string ran from the mound to the plate. As Berry measured distance and height, a hammer waited nearby.
“Did you shake his hand?” Ryan said. “He’s, like, all muscle. He is nothing but muscle. I don’t think he has 2 percent body fat on him.”
The mound that Lance McCullers Jr. snaps his sharp curves off of and Keuchel has dominated again in 2017 is Berry’s specialty.
But you don’t make it 46 years with one organization by just specializing, and a job that begins at 9 a.m. and ends sometime around 11 p.m. on game days encompasses much more than grass, dirt and water.
“Time is very respected in our game; the service that you put into our game is greatly respected,” Hinch said. “And he’s seen a lot, he’s done a lot, and he’s done it with class and integrity and a ton of enthusiasm.
“When you’re around people in baseball and they make you smile and they make you want to stop what you’re doing and say hello, that’s the type of guy Willie is.”
Making it to majors
How do you become the guy who spends 46 years working for the Astros, outlasting everyone from Craig Biggio and Jeff Bagwell to Roger Clemens, Jose Cruz and Joe Morgan?
“I kind of stumbled into it,” said Berry, a Houston resident who was born in Natchitoches, La., has been married 42 years and has two children.
For three years, he worked part time at the Astrodome, scrubbing concourses and picking up janitorial work. Then he was told the Astros’ ground crew needed another pair of hands and was asked if he’d be interested.
“I used to tell (my friends) all the time, ‘Y’all are going to see me in the major leagues one day,’ ” said Berry, who often played the game in his youth. “I was thinking a baseball player. But I got here.”
He officially started with the Astros in 1971 — 79-83, fourth in the National League West; Cesar Cedeno, Bob Watson, Don Wilson, Larry Dierker — and was soon vacuuming the turf, then wearing a space suit, helmet and combat boots while dragging the field.
“Oh, it was hot. … The boots felt like they weighed 25 pounds,” said Berry, who speaks with a gruff Southern accent and is probably in better physical shape than any other 69-year-old on the planet.
The Astros haven’t always held the best record in baseball — OK, they haven’t even won a World Series — and the man who has worked at two Houston ballparks the last 46 years remembers the past, just like you.
“We had some of the worst teams in baseball,” said Berry, specifically mentioning 1975 (64-97-1) and kindly leaving out 2011-13.
Spanning generations
He also was around the ’86 Astros in the Dome, worked the Biggio-Bagwell era that peaked in the 2005 World Series, and now cares for the field that Jose Altuve, Carlos Correa and George Springer roam.
The scenery keeps changing, Berry said. The game never does.
“The heartbeat of baseball are the lifers,” Ryan said. “It’s the grounds guys, it’s the clubhouse guys, it’s the scouts, the 30-year ushers. They’re the folks that really span the generations and they tie the history of our game together.”
Do the playoffs feel different? Are they as special and magical as we think?
“Oh, yeah,” Berry said. “When you walk out onto the field, you just say, ‘Wow, man. This is it. This is what I’m here for.’ ”
End with World Series?
Were the old days and old names really better?
“Don’t get me wrong: We’ve got some nice guys here — nice guys,” Berry said. “But them guys was all just laid back and everyday peoples and all that kind of stuff. They was fun to be around.”
Then it was time for the one that he knew was coming.
You’ve been a part of all this for 46 years. You still love coming to the ballpark every day. Can you really leave this job behind?
“I’ve been saying that for the last five years,” Berry said. “But I’m pretty certain this is my last year. It’s not official. I’m not saying it’s official. But I’m pretty certain it’s going to be, especially if they got into the World Series.”
At one point, Berry was going to complete a perfect circle and stop on the same day he started working. That was last week. As I was writing the final lines of a column inside emptied-out Minute Maid last Sunday, Berry was on the field, still doing his job.
After 46 years with the Astros, you don’t just leave baseball behind.
“If it works out, I might just come back part time, just when they’re in town,” Berry said. “If I don’t come back part time, I’ll be at the game anyway when they’re at home.”
Then he walked out of the dugout and headed back to the mound.