A ‘pistol’ and a prankster with O’s
Left-hander was reliable reliever, notorious joker
In 60 years, the Orioles have trotted out a few left-handed relievers of note, from Pete Richert, Grant Jackson and Tippy Martinez to, more recently, Jesse Orosco, Randy Myers, B.J. Ryan and current closer Zach Britton.
It’s a short but sturdy list, and Richert set the stage for all. He threw hard and he threw strikes. They called him “Pistol Pete” when, from 1969 to 1971, he helped the Orioles to 318 victories and three World Series appearances. Nearly indomitable in 1970, Richert won seven of nine decisions and led the champion Orioles with 13 saves and a 1.98 ERA.
“I just had one of those fabulous years,” Richert, 74, said from his home in Rancho Mirage, Calif. “Besides, those Orioles were one of the top 10 teams in the history of baseball — and don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Twice in 1970, Richert (pronounced RICK-ert) compiled streaks of 82⁄ consecutive innings in which he didn’t allow a hit. Moreover, he allowed only one run in his final 16 appearances before the World Series. There, in Game 1, with the Orioles leading 4-3 in the ninth and the Cincinnati Reds threatening, Richert entered in relief of Jim Palmer. One pitch. Game over. “I jammed Bobby Tolan inside, and he hit a little line drive to [shortstop] Mark Belanger for the last out,” Richert said.
“I remember pumping my fist. Getting that save in the Series meant a lot to me.”
First game in hand, the Orioles went on to win the Series, four games to one.
In five years here, Richert went 30-24 with 37 saves and a 2.83 ERA. Acquired
as a starter, he arrived in a 1967 trade with Washington where, in two seasons, he’d defeated the Orioles six times — including a one-hitter and a three-hitter — while pitching for the woebegone Senators.
The Orioles had other plans for Pistol Pete. In 1968, overrun with young arms, they sent him to the bullpen. Richert never started again but took the move in stride.
“[Orioles manager] Hank Bauer said, ‘This isn’t a demotion. For an inning or two, you throw as hard as anyone in baseball,’ ” Richert said. “He was right. I’d always tried to throw as hard as I could. From then on, I didn’t have to pace myself.”
In four years as a short reliever, he appeared in 165 games and struck out 202 batters.
“It worked out good,” he said. “I found out that I could pitch damn near every day.”
He was on the mound in Game 4 of the 1969 World Series when, with the score tied 1-1 in the 10th inning, New York’s J.C. Martin dropped a sacrifice bunt. Richert fielded it, but his throw to first caromed off Martin’s left wrist, allowing the winning run to score for the Mets. Photos later showed Martin interfered by running inside the baseline. No matter. Richert was charged with an error — and the loss. The Mets won the Series the next day.
Does that play still stick in Richert’s craw?
Catching Up
“It does and it doesn’t,” he said. “I knew he [Martin] was inside the baseline, but I forgive the umpires. They had less opportunities for replays to help them back then.”
That Orioles bullpen was a melange of characters, not the least of whom were Richert and Moe Drabowsky, who enjoyed playing pranks on friend and foe.
“We put a garter snake in the pants of [outfielder] Paul Blair’s uniform,” Richert said. “When the snake got loose in the clubhouse, Paul ran out and got dressed in the dugout.
“Once, we put four goldfish — two black and two orange — in the water cooler of the visiting team’s bullpen. The next day, we found our benches sitting on the roof of our bullpen.
“Sometimes Moe and I would sit down and time a prank in advance, to do it right. In Kansas City, 20 minutes before game time, we climbed the roof of the bullpen with paint cans in our pockets and sprayed the roof black and orange. The groundskeeper yelled at us, but the Royals fans laughed like hell.”
More somber are memories of the two weeks in April 1968 that Richert spent on riot-control duty with the D.C. National Guard after the assassination of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. One day, he was throwing a baseball; the next, he was carrying a rifle, discouraging looters and protecting firefighters in Washington.
“It was tough,” said Richert, who injured his left elbow and right knee in the mayhem. “The thing is, we’d found out two days before that our Guard unit had been activated to go to Vietnam — but then the riots kept us here. So some poor unit on the West Coast took our spot in the war.” And Richert returned to the bullpen. He’d been to Vietnam before, of his own accord, having organized a goodwill tour of Army bases there in the fall of 1966. For three weeks, Richert and three other players — Hall of Famer Ernie Banks, Larry Jackson and Ron Swoboda (Sparrows Point) — traversed the country, dodging bullets and signing autographs.
“We’d get on a helicopter, fly to some hilltop base, have a couple of beers with the guys and move on,” Richert said. “Why? To help the kids over there.”
Nowadays, he lives a quieter life. Married 34 years, Richert and his wife, Royanne, live on the edge of a golf course that he plays regularly. “My patio is on the fourth green,” he said. Baseball hasn’t forgotten him, though. “I get about five autograph requests a week, some from fans who send my 1962 rookie card with the [Los Angeles] Dodgers. I don’t know where people are finding all of the damn things,” Richert said.
He still has his No. 24 Orioles jersey and the 1970 World Series ring.
“I wear it [the ring] whenever we go out to dinner, just to show it off,” he said. “It’s pretty worn out. I’m kind of proud of it.”