Yes he is
For a century or more, the prevailing logic among baseball experts has been that no pitcher standing taller than 6-4 or 6-5 could develop the mechanics necessary to be a consistent winner. Until age 30, Randy Johnson was basically a 6-10 billboard for that theory. From that point on, however, he became been the exception to the rule. A gifted athlete whose intellect and sensitivity are often at odds, Randy harnessed his ability and his emotions to become the most dominant lefty since Sandy Koufax. This is his story…
GROWING UP
Randall David Johnson was born on September 10, 1963 in Walnut Creek, California. (Click here for a complete listing of today's sports birthdays.) His father, Bud, was a policeman and security guard in Livermore, where the family lived during Randy’s childhood. His mother, Carol, did odd jobs and volunteer work, but mostly stayed home to take care of Randy and his five siblings.
Randy was a happy child. He enjoyed joking and talking with his friends and was an active participant in his classes at school. Randy was also a keen observer of the world around him, which led to an interest in photography.
Tall and gangly, Randy was hard to miss as a kid. He towered over other children his age, but was very agile and coordinated at the same time. Not surpisingly, Randy dominated in sports.
His size made him a natural in basketball, but baseball was his first love. Randy was the only boy around who could make a ball hiss when he threw it, and no one wanted to face him in pickup games—not just because of his speed. The youngster had little control over his deliveries to plate. Standing in against him was a test of bravado.
Bud—who stood 6-6 himself and was an avid softball player and a former ski jumper in his native state of Minnesota—believed Randy could harness his size and become a great pitcher. On summer evenings, after leaving his security job at Lawrence Livermore Labs, he would grab a glove, squat down on two creaky knees, and catch Randy’s wild stuff.
Randy worked on his pitching in his driveway, throwing tennis balls at a strike zone he had taped on the garage door. He usually pretended he was Vida Blue, the young A’s lefthander who won the Rookie of the Year and Cy Young Awards in 1971. Randy threw so hard that he loosened the nails in door. After some of these throwing sessions, Bud would hand Randy a hammer so he could drive them back in.
The Johnsons encouraged Randy to hone his pitching skills in Little League. In the spring of 1972, the 8-year-old grabbed his glove and walked over to tryouts at the local athletic complex. When he got there, he saw more than a hundred kids spread out over half a dozen diamonds. He did not recognize any friends or classmates, and a lot of the boys looked older. He wasn’t sure he had the right paperwork or ID and ran home in tears. Carol walked Randy back to tryouts and got him signed up. With a little coaching, he became the best pitcher and hitter in his age group. Within in year, he was moved up two levels.
Throughout elementary school, Randy liked being one of the “big kids”—by sixth grade he was pushing six feet. But when he sprouted seven more inches during junior high, he became aware of the fact that people were gawking at him. The once outgoing boy became shy and withdrawn as a teen. He spent less time with friends and more time with his camera.
Randy eventually found his niche at Livermore High School, where he became the star of the baseball and basketball teams. In hoops, despite his growth spurt (he was now 6-8), he had maintained his coordination. Twice for teh Cowboys, he led the East Bay Athletic League in scoring twice. On the baseball diamond, Randy’s herky-jerky motion and 90 mph fastball—delivered with a whiplike three-quarter motion—was virtually unhittable. And often uncontrollable. He began experimenting with a slider at this point, but it rarely found the plate.
Fans sometimes laughed at Randy’s uniform. His pants ended around his knees, and his jersey came untucked after each pitch. Opposing coaches, looking to rattle Randy, would demand that umpires make him tuck it in several times an inning.
The scouts who came to watch Randy called him Ichabod Crane—it would be another six or seven years before he became the “Big Unit.”
When Randy had everything going, he was one of the best young pitchers in the country. He often struck out 10 or more batters a game. In 1982, as a senior playing for coach Eric Hoff, he fanned 121 in 66 innings of work. In his final outing for Livermore, against Dublin High, he pitched a perfect game. It was only the fourth win of the year for Randy, however. The Cowboys didn’t have much hitting, so when he walked in a couple of runs, he often got hung with the loss.
In the June draft, Randy was selected in the second round by the Atlanta Braves. The team offered him a $50,000 signing bonus. Bud and Carol pointed out that beyond t