Why John Wathan is such an appropriate fit for Kansas City Royals Hall of Fame
When the Royals drafted John Wathan fourth overall in the 1971 MLB January Draft, he figured joining an expansion franchise would make for a swift path to the big leagues.
But as part of what would come to be understood as a model approach, the Royals accumulated enough quality veteran talent that they were patient with the next wave unless it was, say, a budding superstar like George Brett.
So Wathan first had to make a name for himself — figuratively and even literally, as it happens.
When he joined the Class A San Jose Bees, after all, he was among a handful of guys named “John.” So many that you’d encounter one about every time you turned around, he semi-joked Sunday.
Baseball loves to give out nicknames. This time, though, guys apparently were allowed to present their own case. And the guy who loved John Wayne movies and came to do a fine imitation reckoned his should be in that spirit. Like Wayne, he was born in Iowa and moved to California. And they had the same initials and all.
“How about,” he recalled saying, “if I’m ‘Duke?’”
It stuck. And so, ultimately, did Wathan, who became one of the eternal Royals like George Brett, Denny Matthews and Art Stewart — the only others with the organization for both the 1985 and 2015 World Series championships and among those he joined when he was inducted into the Royals Hall of Fame on Sunday.
The moment at Kauffman Stadium was part of a reprieve, if not exactly an oasis, at a dismal time for the Royals.
With a 5-2 win over the Phillies, they snapped a four-game losing streak but still stand only 36-54 — the main reason they drew just 14,891 on a day most of all about the coronation of the Duke of Royals, as it were.
The notion of nobility is apt for the gracious and self-deprecating man who spent 47 of his 52 years in baseball honoring the Royals blue blood that was all he ever wanted to bleed.
Over the decades, Wathan and his family became so entwined with the Royals that every one of them was on the payroll at one time or another:
Sons Derek and Dusty (the Phillies bench coach to whom Wathan threw out the first pitch Sunday) played in the Royals organization; daughter Dina worked in their media services for 18 years and, in a decidedly different era, wife Nancy used to make breakfast burritos for spring training.
Meanwhile, he spanned every facet of the organization himself, including playing, managing, broadcasting, scouting and various player development and front office roles — a composite that made him the compelling 32nd inductee into their HOF.
While he always figured his on-field credentials weren’t enough on their own to land him in the Royals’ Hall of Fame, he humbly had wondered if having seven or eight meaningful jobs might give him this chance.
About the only thing he hadn’t done, someone told him, was sell peanuts or work the grounds crew.
Then they told the 77-year-old, he recalled with a laugh, “There’s still time.”
Speaking of time, funny the tricks it can play.
Back in the day, Wathan felt like five-plus years was an interminable wait to get to the major leagues.
But the timing of the apprenticeship could hardly have been more worth it or more enduring:
When he got called up just over 50 years ago, he entered into — and helped generate — the best decade in franchise history with seven postseason berths while claiming two American League titles and the 1985 World Series.
“Of course,” he joked, “George (Brett) rode my coattails all those 10 years.”
Largely in a utility role that spoke to how he saw his post-playing future, Wathan hit .262 with 90 doubles, 25 triples, 21 home runs and 261 RBIs in that span — along with 105 stolen bases, including a catcher-record 36 in 1982.
That uplifted the catching brotherhood, said Wathan, who said over the years he’ll get patted on the back and told how it shows “we’re not slugs. We’re not slow.”
As he looked back on Sunday, Wathan appreciated his fortune in playing for a stable franchise that was succeeding and “didn’t need or didn’t want to make a lot of changes.”
That ongoing approach, alas, may later have factored into the postseason drought between 1985 and 2014 that included his stint as manager from 1987-1991. Wathan’s teams went 287-270, the fifth-most wins in franchise history behind Ned Yost, Whitey Herzog, Dick Howser and Tony Muser.
When he thought of his playing days, he pointed to the triumphs and the colorful moments — including The Pine Tar Game and Brett’s hemorrhoids’ episode during the 1980 World Series.
But most of all, he thought about the people along the way — like the influence of the late Herzog, who “believed in me when a lot of people didn’t” and first planted the thought he could be a manager.
And he thought about the camaraderie of the clubhouse and the then-postgame spreads of potato chips, pretzels and beer that sometimes led to him barbecuing at home for teammates late at night.
Guys today make a lot more money, he said, but …
“I have a hard time believing they (have) more fun than we did,” he said.
Best of all, Wathan so often made things better for others in so many ways through so many roles.
Whether teammates or players under his charge, whether giving a “kernel” of advice to a prospect and seeing it come to fruition or just in how he treats anyone, Wathan is a prince of a guy who makes the Royals’ Hall of Fame all the more distinguished.