John Blanchette: Comstock pitches in with timeless tales

The roster of the 2007 Spokane Indians stands at 28 players – all aiming to be the next, oh, Ian Kinsler, one of four recent alums now playing for the parent Texas Rangers.

But the bigger issue is, who’s going to be the next Keith Comstock?

Players come and go, but someone has to be the caretaker of all the stories.

This is not a duty spelled out in Comstock’s contract – he’s the pitching coach of this year’s Indians – but more an avocation, a calling, an honorary distinction both self-assumed and well-earned over the course of 30 years as baseball’s accidental tourist.

For instance, the new Indians uniform is the 26th different outfit he’s modeled as a professional player and coach – not counting a few others in winter ball.

And one he never got to wear.

“Once in Venezuela, I got released when I stepped off the plane,” he said. “White courtesy phone, please. I guess my reputation had preceded me.”

Well, that was a reputation with many sides. Comstock was a left-handed reliever capable enough to appear in 144 major league games with the Twins, Giants, Padres and Mariners and escape with a career ERA less than 4.00. Guys like that name their price today, often with six zeroes attached.

But he was also released by 10 different teams in five countries – though he collected the various indignities and embarrassments as badges of honor.

Like the game early in his rookie year with the Twins, when he came on after Pete Filson was ejected for throwing at the Angels’ Doug DeCinces and the benches had emptied.

“I’m 28 years old, but I’m an intimidated puppy – I was pitching to names and not hitters,” Comstock said. “Reggie Jackson hits a walloping line drive to second and Tim Teufel makes a diving catch for a double play and I run off the field. My brothers and my wife have all flown in and I’m feeling great.

“Then Billy Gardner, the manager, comes over and says, ‘What are you doing, you stupid SOB? There’s only two out.’ So I’ve got to go running back on the field, pretending to fiddle with my glove like something was wrong with it.”

That gaffe wasn’t the reason, but the Twins released him at year’s end and his career took a hard left turn – to Japan, where he played for the Yomiuri Giants, “the Yankees, Dodgers and Cubs of Japan, all rolled into one.

“My manager was Sadaharu Oh,” Comstock said.

Oh?

“Yeah, that’s what I said. And he said, ‘Yeah?’ “

So much for the “Who’s on First?” of Japan.

It was Oh, the revered home run legend of Japan, who once offered Comstock the wisest of counsel.

“I’m hitting with the bases loaded and nobody out and Oh-san comes up to me in the on-deck circle and puts his arm around me and goes, ‘I think you’re going to strike out.’ “

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Comstock thought.

“So maybe it’s better if you do strike out,” Oh went on. “Because if you hit into a double play, it’s two outs. So don’t swing.”

That’s not really my style, Comstock countered.

“OK, swing one time – but if you miss, then strike out for me,” Oh said.

So naturally Comstock swung at the first pitch – and hit into a double play.

“He wouldn’t talk to me for two days,” Comstock laughed.

As with the best storytellers, it’s sometimes difficult with Comstock to tell where the facts end and the fantastic begins. Surely it couldn’t be the-truth-and-nothing-but that he once refused to join his Yomiuri teammates on a visit to a Buddhist temple for blessings, after which the team lost nine in row and Comstock found himself being showered with salt by fans – and teammates – hoping to cleanse the “curse.”

Or that Oh-san went on national TV – “interrupted all the soap operas,” Comstock said – to plead for people to stop it.

Doesn’t matter. It’s too priceless for either humbug skepticism or nitpick editing.

A blown-out shoulder ended Comstock’s playing journey in 1991, a circumstance he blames on his own impatience with rehab programs and fear of losing the bullpen spot he’d carved out so nicely for himself in Seattle. But that ability to accept and pass along lessons made him a perfect candidate to instruct in the minors, which he’s been doing since 1993 in three different organizations. He also managed for four years, including here in the Northwest League in 1998 when Salem-Keizer won the pennant and he was named Manager of the Year.

And every Opening Day is a reminder of how much his young players don’t know.

Like the pitcher a few years back who was warming up in the bullpen. Comstock wanted him to slow down, so he gave him the signal – an arcing motion with his hand, like a whale cresting the water.

And the kid threw the ball over the fence.

“Same kid, I go to the mound once and tell him I want him to pitch around the guy at the plate,” Comstock said. “Well, the first pitch literally goes around the guy.”

That pitcher is long gone. But for Keith Comstock, the story’s a keeper.

They all are.