Fraternal Twins

Even though they boasted some of baseball's most gifted players, the 1968 Minnesota Twins finished a dismal seventh in the American League. Recalls Catcher John Roseboro: "This was not a happy ball club. The guys couldn't get together with each other or the front office. Someone was always grousing about himself or conditions on the team." Suddenly, it is the other American League clubs that are doing the grousing--about Minnesota. With polished thievery on the base paths to complement their power at the plate, the Twins are leading the league's Western Division.

In a recent doubleheader at Minnesota's Metropolitan Stadium, the Twins subjected the faltering Detroit Tigers, the defending world champions, to a humiliating demonstration of speed and muscle. Tiger Ace Mickey Lolich, whose won-lost record was 14-2 before the game, lost the opener, 5-2. In the process, he gave up his first home run of the year, a line shot by Minnesota Second Baseman Rod Carew. In the second game, the Twins chased the Tigers' other star, Denny McLain (15-5), off the mound in the fifth inning; two home runs, including Third Baseman Harmon Killebrew's 30th of the season, blasted the way to an 11-5 victory. Last week Pinchhitter Rich Reese cracked a grand-slam homer to lead the Twins to a 5-2 win over the Baltimore Orioles, runaway leaders of the Eastern Division. That blast sent Baltimore Righthander Dave McNally to his first loss since last Sept. 17.

Devastating Attack. With a pitching staff that has been only occasionally impressive the Twins have had to depend on heavy hitting and alert base running to maintain their league lead. Three players are hitting over .300, and the team's average .272 is the highest in the league.

Key man in this devastating attack is Carew. He is a slim (6 ft., 170 Ibs.), graceful line-drive hitter who tops all major-league batsmen with a sparkling .356 average. Cat-quick, he has already tied a major-league mark by stealing home seven times this season. Behind him in the batting order comes Killebrew, 33, a chunky (6 ft., 210 Ibs.), balding veteran of 15 years in the majors, who is one of the most feared long-ball hitters in the game (total career home runs: 428). The very fact that Carew gets on base so often has helped Killebrew pile up 101 runs batted in to lead both leagues.

Carew, 23, who came to the U.S. in 1962 from the Panama Canal Zone, made a name for himself on New York City sandlots. A Twins scout came out to see him play in a doubleheader one day, and Carew responded by whacking a single, five doubles and a grand-slam homer. He soon had a Twins contract in his pocket, was called up to the parent club in 1967 after only three years of minor-league ball. Hitting over .300 by midseason, he was the only rookie picked to start on the American League All-Star team. He wound up the season with a solid .292 average and was a clearcut choice for Rookie-of-the-Year honors.

Out of a Cannon. By the end of last season, Carew was swinging for the fences every time at bat. As a result, he finished the year with a disappointing .273 average. This year, for Carew and the team, statistics are improving notably. And much of the credit goes to their cagey, choleric rookie manager, Billy Martin.

A former Twins coach, Martin took charge this spring and demanded the hustling, hurry-up style of baseball that made him famous in his playing days with the New York Yankees. His team has already reeled off more double plays (128) than it did all last season. He urges speedsters like Carew and Outfielder Cesar Tovar to use their legs more often. The result: 16 stolen bases for Carew, 30 for Tovar. One day in May, Carew completely shattered the Detroit defense by stealing second, third and home in the span of seven pitches. Martin insists that stealing home, despite its rarity, is easier than a theft of second base because a smart runner can get a sizable jump on a pitcher, especially if the hurler is going into a full windup. Carew makes that arguable statement sound unassailable. "Each time he stole home," says Martin, "you'd think he'd been shot out of a cannon."

"We're a lot more alert now than we were a year ago," says Carew. "Martin has given a whole new spirit to the team." Roseboro and Killebrew, the club's elder statesmen, agree. "Martin gets excited and raises a lot of hell," says Roseboro, "but he keeps you on your toes." Says Killebrew: "This is a happy team now. I really think we can win it all this year." If they do, they can attribute their success to the fact that, compared with last year's band of bickering individualists, the 1969 Twins have become downright fraternal.

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