The Short Man

"Throwing a baseball is an unnatural activity," says lanky, crew-cut Don Elston. 32. "It stretches and strains the muscles." But, as top relief pitcher for the lowly Chicago Cubs, Journeyman Ballplayer Elston is doing what comes unnaturally--and doing it uncommonly well. Trudging in from the Wrigley Field bullpen with monotonous regularity, he has appeared in 18 of his team's 43 games, won five of its 17 victories, and saved five other games--three last week alone--for hard-hit Cub starters. Says an admiring teammate: "Don Elston is the best 'short man' in the business."

The job of the "short man," or "fireman," is the most exacting in baseball. He works on no regular schedule, must constantly be ready for his manager's call. On a team well supplied with dependable starters, he may dawdle unnoticed day after day on the bullpen bench, get his exercise only by pitching batting practice. Not on the floundering Cubs. Elston pops up and down like a jack-in-the-box during games, warming up, anticipating a frantic signal from the dugout. He is called in most often when the Cubs' predicament is most precarious--e.g., in the late innings, with men on base, the score tied and the opposing team's power hitter at the plate. "The main thing," says Pitcher Elston, "is temperament. A starting pitcher can make mistakes and get away with them. If I make a mistake, it's the ball game." Though his tactics are complex. Elston's strategy is simple. Called to the mound with men on base and nobody out, Elston tries desperately to strike out the first batter. "You can't be afraid." he says, "to throw a strike in an important situation--to a guy you know can hit the ball out of the park." With one out. Elston deliberately aims his pitches low in an effort to force the hitter to ground into a double play. With two out, he will settle for retiring the batter in any way possible. Occasionally, with a free-swinging power hitter at the plate, Elston will pitch dangerously high, try to provoke a popup. "He doesn't care who's hitting," marvels Chicago Catcher Sammy Taylor. "He believes he can beat anybody."

Elston's unshakable calm and concentration make him the most successful relief pitcher in the National League. But the frequency with which he works takes its toll. "There are times." says Elston wearily, "when the physical strain is such that I just can't pitch." Still, Fireman Elston has no desire to quit the bullpen for the regular rotation of a starting pitcher. "I don't want to be a starter," he explains. "I'm a success in the job I'm doing now."

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