McCoy: Remembering ‘Gully,’ a Reds Hall of Famer and even better person

Former Cincinnati Reds pitcher Don Gullett suffered a stroke and never regained consciousness, the family said. He passed away in a helicopter on his way from his Kentucky home to a hospital in Columbus. He was 73.

Needless to say, he was one of the best pitchers ever to occupy a pitcher’s mound while wearing a Reds uniform — 91-44 with a 3.11 earned run average during his seven-year run.

He and Gary Nolan were the pitching anchors on the 1975 and 1976 World Series champions.

Even more important, though, he was one of the nicest people ever to wear a Reds uniform. And even though he was a real tough guy, backed down from nobody, he was so quiet in the clubhouse and had zero ego as a player.

I got to know him as a pitcher, but got even closer when he was a pitching coach for the Reds and manager Jack McKeon We spent a lot of time on the road together and trying to get him to talk about himself was not like pulling a tooth, it was like trying to pull an entire mouth full of teeth.

I was always intrigued by his legendary accomplishments at McKell (Ky.) High School, where he scored 70 points in one football game, 50 points in a basketball game and struck out every batter but one in a baseball game. The last batter bunted.

The story was that McKell ran the single-wing and Gullett took a direct snap on every play. It was Gullet wide right, Gullett wide left or Gullett up the middle.

No matter how often I asked, he just smiled and shrugged. I had heard that his football coach at McKell was mad at the other team’s coach, so he turned Gullett loose on that team.

Was that true, Gully? Smile, shrug.

Nor would he talk about the football scholarship he turned down from Alabama.

Injuries prevented him from ever winning the Cy Young Award or be considered for the Hall of Fame.

In 1975 he was 15-4 with a 2.42 ERA, but made only 22 starts due to injuries. He was on his way toward a Cy Young. In 1976, it was worse. He made only 20 starts and was 11-3 with a 3.00 earned run average, also on his way to Cy Young consideration.

After the ‘76 season, he signed with the New York Yankees and was 14-4 with a 3.58 ERA, once again with 22 starts.

Then in 1978 he tore his rotator cuff. That was before rotator cuffs could be fixed with Tommy John surgery, so his career was over.

In nine years, he was 109-50 — 59 games over .500 — with a 3.11 earned run average. That definitely was a path to Cooperstown, but the shortened career threw a brick wall in front of him. He was inducted to the Reds Hall of Fame in 2002.

He was one of the good guys, a really, really good guy. Whomever he pitches for in Heaven, that team won’t lose many when he starts. And the football and basketball teams will be blessed, too.

The rule of thumb for a professional writer is that you don’t fraternize or get close to the people you cover and write about.

When you cover a team for 50 years, when you associate with players on a daily basis for all of spring, all of summer and parts of autumn, it is impossible not to forge some personal relationships.

And that was the way it was with Gullett and me. Not only was he arguably the best pitcher ever to wear the wishbone-C on his chest, he might have been the nicest person I ever covered.

He ranks right up there with Sean Casey, Jose Rijo, Bronson Arroyo, Buddy Bell, Billy Doran, Dave Collins, Doug Bair and a few other high-class players with whom I became close friends.

We writers are supposed to be thick-skinned, unemotional perimeter observers. Cry? Never.

Well, when I received the phone call informing that Gullett was gone, I unashamedly bawled my eyes out.

On the mound, Gullett was The Silent Assassin. He spoke softly, if at all, and took away the big sticks of opposing hitters. His credo was that he was paid to do a job and keep his mouth shut. He did both.

When he was pitching coach, we became close. During spring training. We lost money together at the Sarasota Kennel Club. Gully liked to wager on the long shots and once hit a $1,600 trifecta.

On the road, McKeon, Gullett, coach Harry Dunlop and I often went to dinner, went to mass, rode together to the ball parks. And the laughs were rampant.

After he retired from baseball, I only saw Gully once a year, at the Portsmouth Murals baseball dinner, and I cherished that time.

I knew something was amiss when he missed this year’s dinner in January. He never missed. I didn’t call him and I shall regret that forever.

Former Reds scout Gene Bennett spotted Gullett when he was 14. He invited him to a camp and had him pitch to some college players.

Gullett struck out the first six and Bennett said, “That’s it, I’ve seen enough.” Gully said, “I can get those other three, too.” So Bennett let him go and he struck out those three, too.

Gullett was too young to sign then but told Bennett he would sign with the Reds when he came of age.

Bennett also was a basketball referee and worked one of Gullett’s games. He called two quick fouls on Gully and he said to Bennett, “You better swallow that whistle or I won’t sign with the Reds.”

So, Gene, what did you do? “I swallowed my whistle,” he said.

Bennett, one of my closest friends, is gone. Now, so is Gullett. It is hell to be 83 and hear about so many friends leaving.

But I got to be part of Gullett’s life and I’m a better man for it. Anybody who crossed his path, as long as they weren’t carrying a baseball bat, are better for knowing Don Gullett.

Rest in peace, No. 35, rest in peace. Now pardon me while I take the house phone off the hook.