There’s a special connection between KC and baseball’s first draft

They televise baseball’s draft now, in part because they televise everything, but the shame for the rest of us is that the first one wasn’t on TV. No offense to Rob Manfred or any of the fine prospects selected this week, but that first draft, now that would have made for some high-quality entertainment.

This was 50 years ago this month. Hardly anyone knew what they were doing, and fewer agreed on a thing. Much of the baseball establishment didn’t want the draft, even resented the draft. The Red Sox thought so little of the whole thing that they dropped out after 20 rounds. The Astros were so hungry for talent that they kept going all the way to the 72nd round.

As we say, nobody knew quite what to make of it.

Seven of the 20 first-round picks never made the big leagues. Five others played fewer than a hundred games. Meanwhile, Johnny Bench went in the second round, Tom Seaver in the eighth and Nolan Ryan in the 10th.

But the moment that would’ve made for great TV came early. Back then, they did it in a conference room at the Roosevelt Hotel in New York. Teams took turns, with scouting directors announcing the picks themselves with a microphone at the front of the room.

Well, once, Jack Schwarz of the Giants was waiting to announce his pick. Schwarz was a lifer, a rugged baseball man even by the standards of the day, and when the Tigers made their selection in front of him he just went off.

“YOU DIRTY SON OF A (GUN)!” he screamed. “YOU TOOK OUR PLAYER!”

Schwarz actually had to be restrained from starting a fight.

Talk about a missed opportunity for television.

There is a special connection between Kansas City and that first draft. And, no, not just because for years the most interesting thing about following the Royals was following the draft.

The Kansas City A’s made the first pick of that draft, for one. They took Rick Monday, who was the college player of the year at Arizona State. Monday debuted the next year and played 19 seasons in the majors. He’s best remembered as a Chicago Cub for stopping two protesters from burning an American flag in the outfield during a game in 1976 at Dodger Stadium.

But there is another connection. Art Stewart, the only scout in the Royals’ Hall of Fame, is part of the reason baseball decided to hold a draft in the first place.

The story is part Roy Hobbs, part Field of Dreams, part missed opportunity. I helped Art tell it in a book that published last year.

Art has been in professional baseball more than 60 years, but he remembers the day — April 16, 1961. That’s when he first saw what he still considers one of the great amateur prospects of all time, and Stewart is a man who signed Bo Jackson and scouted everyone from Ernie Banks to Alex Rodriguez.

Art found him first, and it was by total accident. He was in the Northwoods of Wisconsin looking at a pitcher in a small-college game. He heard about a high school kid down the road, and Art had his doubts, but good scouting is a lot like good detective work. Check out every lead.

So Art got in the car and arrived at the high school in time for batting practice. The kid’s name was Rick Reichardt, and Art didn’t need a program to see which one he was.

The boy was 6 feet 3 and strong. Had the size of a linebacker and the movement of a point guard. The first baseman’s mitt popped when Reichardt threw over from third base, and during batting practice, he hit a couple of balls onto the roof of the school building behind the left-field fence.

Immediately, Art thought he was watching the best amateur prospect he’d seen since Mickey Mantle.

This was before the Royals existed, obviously, and Art was with the Yankees. Reichardt was a Yankees fan. This was all working out.

“Just talk to my dad,” Reichardt said, and Art had no way of knowing that would be the start of his struggles.

Rick’s father was Fritz Reichardt, a wonderful man and the team doctor for the Packers. As it turned out, Reichardt had a plan for his son, and that plan included college.

Reichardt went to Wisconsin on a football scholarship. He became a two-sport star there, a running back for the football team and the best hitter in the Big Ten. The secret was out. Every team in baseball wanted him. Charlie Finley, the owner of the Kansas City A’s, came in to watch Reichardt in person.

The Yankees brought the Reichardts to New York, and got the whole family tickets to “Hello, Dolly!” on Broadway. Carol Channing was the star, and nobody could get a ticket. The Reichardts sat in the third row, stage center.

The Yankees offered him $150,000 to sign. That’s more than they had ever offered an amateur player. Heck, it was more than they ever paid Mickey Mantle in a season.

Reichardt ended up signing with the Angels for even more money — $205,000.33. That’s a strange number, but the Reichardts had it worked out that whoever signed Rick would also reimburse them for their traveling expenses.

People have a tendency to think that the influence of wild money in baseball is a relatively new phenomenon, but this is as old as the game itself. Reichardt’s signing bonus was more than Hank Aaron, Carl Yastrzemski, Al Kaline, Bob Gibson, Juan Marichal, Sandy Koufax and other Hall of Famers were making in the big leagues.

As it turned out, Reichardt did not become a baseball star. He played 11 years — including for the Royals, at the end — but had some injuries that really limited him.

His impact on the game, however, is permanent. When his signing bonus became public, the owners went nuts. Some thought this was the beginning of the end of their game. So, with no hesitation, they created the draft.

They really should’ve put that first one on TV, though.

This story was originally published June 8, 2015 at 7:38 PM with the headline "There’s a special connection between KC and baseball’s first draft."