Naturally, Terry Collins remembers playing with Dave Parker.
How could anyone not?
Parker was electricity incarnate, a 21-year-old budding superstar patrolling center field for the 1972 Salem Pirates of the Carolina League and honing the five tools that would eventually propel him into the Baseball Hall of Fame.
But Parker, who died on Saturday at age 74, carried through life an even stronger memory of Collins, a scrappy infielder on that club who would go on to become the longest-tenured manager in the history of the New York Mets.
Parker’s 2021 memoir Cobra: A Life of Baseball and Brotherhood (written with Dave Jordan), contains this anecdote about an experience that year with Collins, 23 at the time, and another teammate, Ron “Satch” Mitchell:
“After a day game, me and Satch were walking through Salem with Terry Collins, that feisty, skinny kid from up north. He generally didn’t look for trouble, but he wasn’t afraid of it, either. We just wanted a quick meal without going all the way back to Roanoke. As we made our way through town, these young men -- they were both actually pretty tall - sitting outside a general store yelled over, ‘You two don’t belong here.’
I wasn’t in the mood for a fight, and neither was Satch. But that didn’t stop Terry.
“What the hell does that mean? Ol’ Collins got right in their faces.
“I’m from Michigan! People don’t talk to other people like that!”
“I ain’t talkin’ to you. We’re talking to Leroy over there.”
Back then “Leroy” was the name racists used when they were tired of the N-word.
“You’re talkin’ to me now, and if I ever --”
At this point, Satch quietly dragged Terry away from the guys. Collins sure had some balls on him. What a good dude.”
Reached by telephone on Monday from his home in Port St. Lucie, Florida, Collins said that he had not read the passage in Parker’s book. But he remembered the incident well.
“I was appalled by what I heard,” Collins said. “I had heard stories about how [Black players] were treated in the Carolina League, but to see it in person -- I was shocked. Plus, Dave was my friend. He was my teammate.”
Collins remembers that Parker told him that he was crazy, and that the men probably had guns in their store. But Collins was the guy who won the Pirates “Red Ass of the Year” Award in ‘72. That honor came with a trophy of a donkey. He was not going to allow a few menacing racists to speak to his friend that way.
More than half a century later, Collins remains in awe of Parker’s talent.
“He could fly,” Collins said. “And I saw him hit a line drive off a pitcher’s shoulder, and that guy never pitched again. From then on guys would flinch when they threw the ball to him.”
The following year, Parker jumped from A-ball to Triple-A to the big leagues. He and Collins remained in touch.
In 1997, when the Anaheim Angels named Collins manager, Collins received a call from his friend Tony La Russa. La Russa was managing the St. Louis Cardinals and had earlier won a World Series in Oakland with Parker on his roster.
“Do yourself a favor and hire Dave Parker [as a coach],” La Russa said, unaware that the two had once played together. “He’s the best clubhouse guy I’ve ever had. I would hire him myself if I had room.”
Collins loved the idea, and made Parker his first base and outfield coach. The following year, La Russa brought Parker to St. Louis as his hitting instructor.
Parker and Collins remained in loose contact for a few years, then mostly lost track of one another -- with the exception of a time when Collins’ Mets were playing in Cincinnati, where Parker lived. Parker made a point to come to the ballpark to say hello to his old buddy.
“He was a fun-loving guy with a great sense of humor,” Collins said. “He was a great dude, just a good guy. And he had tools up the ass.”
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