Former phenom Clyde comes full circle

ARLINGTON, Texas -- David Clyde always wanted to leave a lasting impression on baseball.

With a blazing fastball and nasty curve, the high school phenom was the No. 1 overall pick by the Texas Rangers in June 1973.

Three weeks later, he was pitching in the major leagues, a strapping 18-year-old left-hander shoved into the spotlight to spur interest in a struggling franchise.

Clyde won his debut on June 27, 1973, but that magical night before the Rangers' first sellout crowd in Texas would be the highlight of his career.

Six years later, Clyde pitched his last game in the majors. He was 18-33 with a 4.63 ERA in 84 games for Texas and Cleveland. He later ended a comeback with his hometown Houston Astros, but had left his mark on the game -- for the wrong reasons.

"It is probably the classic case of how not to handle a young talent," Clyde said. "Even though mine's kind of on the black side of it, I've made a contribution. Every couple of years when another young talent comes along, my name gets mentioned and I hear the satisfying words that, 'We're not going to let happen to this young man what happened to David Clyde.' "

High school phenom

As a senior at Houston's Westchester High, Clyde was 18-0 and allowed only three earned runs in 148 1-3 innings (0.18 ERA). He struck out 328 batters -- 100 more than he would in the majors -- with just 18 walks and five no-hitters, two of them perfect games.

The Rangers gave him a $65,000 signing bonus and an immediate ticket to the majors -- not because Clyde was ready, but because Rangers owner Bob Short was desperate to generate interest and income for the team he moved from Washington a year before.

"I had no idea of everything that was going on. All I wanted to do was play ball," Clyde said. "They come to us and offer the big leagues. What are you supposed to do when it's something you've dreamed about your whole life? Everything happened so fast."

Clyde's debut against the Minnesota Twins got Short a sellout crowd of 35,698. It even caused an unprecedented traffic jam that delayed the start of the game.

"That was the longest 15 minutes of my life," Clyde said. "I can almost imagine what somebody on death row is thinking. It seemed like an eternity."

Clyde walked the first two batters, then struck out the next three. He gave up a two-run homer to Mike Adams (three career homers) in the second inning, but that was the only hit and runs he allowed.

Clyde pitched five innings, with eight strikeouts and seven walks, and won.

Trying to fit in

Gene Clyde expected his son to get two starts before going to the minors for a chance to adjust to pro baseball. Rangers manager Whitey Herzog concurred, but there was no formal agreement with Short about that.

"He had never been away from home, except for a Boy Scout camp or a Sunday school weekend outing ... and he was going into an angry, hostile world," Gene Clyde said.

The Rangers' clubhouse was no Sunday school class. It was a team known for hard partying, and the teenager who had never smoked or drank tried to fit in by following his teammates, all of them at least five years older.

Short's interest was the bottom line. Fans came when Clyde pitched -- an average of 18,187 for his 12 home starts and 7,622 for the other 72 home games -- so he remained, going 4-8 with a 5.01 ERA as a rookie.

"There's no doubt in my mind he was totally mishandled, totally abused, and the only reason he was in the big leagues was because Bob Short needed the money," said current Rangers broadcaster Tom Grieve, one of Clyde's teammates in 1973.

Herzog once called what happened to Clyde "one of the worst things I've seen in baseball."

Things got worse when Herzog was fired near the end of 1973 and replaced by Billy Martin, a brash manager never too keen on pitchers, especially young ones. Clyde was 3-0 the next season when Martin, without explanation, didn't use him for 30 days. Clyde lost his last nine decisions that year.

"I have an awful lot of unanswered questions in my mind having played for Billy," Clyde said. "That was one of the most miserable years in my entire life."

With virtually no guidance from Martin or pitching coach Art Fowler, Clyde's confidence deteriorated.

"Player development is equally as important as talent," said Drayton McLane, a Rangers fan before he became owner of the Astros. "I'm sure it hurt his career not going through the minors. They were needing something to excite the fans, and they thought it would be this pitcher."

Finally, the minors

Clyde was in his third pro season before finally going to the minors. He also pitched his final game for the Rangers.

After shoulder surgery midway through 1976, he stayed in Triple A the next season before being traded to Cleveland. He had his best season with the Indians in 1978 (8-11 in 25 starts, also setting career highs with 153 1-3 innings pitched and 83 strikeouts), but his major league career was done after going 3-4 in eight starts in 1979.

The Indians traded him back to Texas, but he was released because of a partially torn rotator cuff.

Clyde tried a comeback with Houston, going to instructional league in the fall of 1981. While on a mound one day in Arizona, he decided he'd had enough. Twice divorced already, he called his new fiancee.

"He said he was coming home. I asked why, and he said, 'Baby, I looked at my catcher, and I thought to myself, "What am I doing here?" I had never asked myself that question. I knew it was time to come home,"' Robin Clyde recalls. "I thought, 'He'll get over that.' But he didn't."

Back in Tomball, Texas, northwest of Houston where he and Robin still live, Clyde helped manage the lumber company owned by her family, a job he left this year while remaining part-owner. He has coached and taught baseball while watching his three kids -- the youngest about to be a high school senior -- grow up.

Three decades after his first game, Clyde isn't bitter. He wants to get back in pro baseball.

When recognized recently by the Rangers for the 30th anniversary of his debut, Clyde spoke to management about his desire to coach. Assistant general manager Grady Fuson said Clyde's passion for the game was obvious, but there were no promises of a job.

Clyde is just 27 days short of the service time he needs to be vested for his baseball pension (as much as $40,000 a year). But at age 48, he also wants a chance to be the mentor he never had.

And he has no regrets.

"Baseball owes me nothing. I owe baseball," Clyde said. "I'm a very fortunate person. I got to live my dream. I was one of only 7,500 men in the history of the world to step on a major league mound."