Remembering Paul Splittorff

Paul Splittorff, the tall, durable and crafty left hander who was a pitching mainstay for several Kansas City Royals championship teams from the mid 1970’s to the early 1980’s, died this year on May 25th. He was 64 years old.

A Royal All The Way. Splittorff joined the team’s starting rotation in 1971. One of his best seasons came shortly thereafter, when in 1973 he threw 262 innings, won twenty games and pitched three shutouts. Other successful seasons would follow. In his fifteen year career, all spent with the Royals, “Splitt” became well-known for his exhaustive preparation. He was the thinking man’s pitcher, an artist on the mound, a finesse guy who worked the corners, altered his velocity and varied his pitches in an effort to find and exploit a hitter’s weakness(es).

My View. I got a pretty got read from watching him pitch on a few occasions. I attended a game he won against the Yankees in the Bronx during the summer of 1977. He had a lead going into the sixth but was taken out when two men got on. A reliever came in and put out the fire, and Splittorff got the win. When I recall his arsenal, breaking stuff comes to mind. The fastball was pretty good, too. He had a knack for beating the Yankees in the playoffs and had success against Yankee slugger Reggie Jackson.

Broadcasting Years. A starting pitcher appears in thirty-three games a year, give or take a game or two. Splittorff was a dependable team player for fifteen years and had the support of the fans. But it was as a play-by-play announcer and a color commentator for  the Royals that he truly won their hearts. During his twenty-four seasons behind the microphone he became part of the team’s fabric, as identifiable to Royals fans as their  ballpark, Kauffman Stadium, was. He called a good game. He wasn’t reluctant to criticize a home town player when he thought it was appropriate to do so.

Now Pitching In The Bottom Of The Ninth. The Royals are leading a critical, must-win game by one run. Tension fills the air. There’s a man on second, and the opposing team’s best hitter steps into the batters box. On the pitcher’s mound, the loneliest place in the ballpark, the seasoned veteran studies him for a moment, contemplating, calculating, calibrating. There’s no need for concern, Royals fans. Paul Splittorff has already won the game long before he throws a pitch; his pitch, the pitch he knows will get the batter out, one last time.