Jeff Gray

Boston Globe writer Gordon Edes posted a column today (interestingly enough, entitled Chin Music) in which he defends his comparison of Jonathan Papelbon to Boston's rookie closer in 1986, Calvin Schiraldi. His comparisons are fair enough, but who Papelbon reminds me of most is one of my favorite Sox pitchers when I was a kid: Jeff Gray. Like Papelbon, Gray had great command of his entire repertoire, a stoic, confident demeanor, unwavering composure in pressure situations, and--despite being a considerable amount slighter in size than Papelbon--a surprising amount of pop on his fastball. And, like Papelbon, Gray had endurance--every game Gray entered, he appeared as though he were throwing at no less than 100 percent.

The 1991 Boston Red Sox Yearbook--published back when team yearbooks actually had editorial content, and not just ads and player headshots--contained one of my favorite baseball articles. Entitled "Pitching In," the piece was a rare tribute to the talents of the less-than-marquee pitchers who helped the Sox capture the 1990 pennant: Gray, Tom Bolton, Greg Harris (the ambidextrous pitcher who wore a custom glove that could be worn on either hand), and Dana Kiecker (one of the nicest players I ever met). The article suggests that even during his brief stay in the major leagues, Gray was an anonymous figure, despite his impressive accomplishments.

After appearing in only five games for the 1988 Reds and cast aside from the Philly minor league system in late '89, Gray was picked up by Boston and called up from Triple-A Pawtucket in June 1990. After slumping badly throughout the month of July (mainly due to a ribcage strain), Gray stepped up for the ailing Sox. Right in the thick of the neck-and-neck pennant race with Toronto and with closer Jeff Reardon on the disabled list, Gray picked up six saves in seven chances with an 0.60 ERA during the month of August. Two of the saves were during the crucial Toronto series in which he allowed no runs, no hits, and recorded four strikeouts. At one point he recorded 14 2/3 consecutive scoreless innings, and was seven-for-seven in save chances between August 19 and September 12, when Reardon rejoined the roster. Gray wrapped up his rookie campaign with a respectable 4.44 ERA, and posted a 2.70 ERA in two brief appearances in the ALCS against Oakland.

Gray's late-season surge carried over into 1991. Emerging as the solid rock in the Sox' relief corps, he appeared in 50 of Boston's first 97 games, posting a tidy 2.34 ERA (more than two runs lower than the 1991 league average) and allowing only 10 walks, 39 hits, and 16 earned runs in 61 2/3 innings pitched.

During Boston's late July slump (which probably cost them the 1991 Eastern Division title), Gray pitched in two otherwise meaningless games during a three-game sweep at the hands of the White Sox. On July 27, he threw 2/3 of an inning in a 10-8 thumping of Roger Clemens, allowing one run on one hit, before allowing another run during one inning pitched the following day (also making an appearance that day, for Chicago, was a young Scott Radinsky, of Scared Straight, Ten Foot Pole, and Pulley fame).

Sadly, that forgettable inning pitched against Chicago on July 28, 1991, was Gray's last. Prior to Boston's game against Texas on July 30, Gray collapsed in the Red Sox clubhouse. He became lightheaded and weak, his speech slurred, and he lost sensation in the right side of his body (and yes, he was a right-hander). Diagnosed as suffering from a stroke--oddly enough, on the 11th anniversary of the stroke of the legendary J.R. Richard--Gray spent two years in physical rehab attempting a comeback before becoming a pitching coach in 1994. The Sox made a run for the divisional crown in 1991, finishing in second place behind Toronto, but it is interesting to speculate what the effect would have been had Gray's health sustained--on the outcome of the '91 season, and on his place in the history books.