Welcome To Frequently Asked Questions

At the ballpark, speaking engagements, fan mail and even on the street, fans ask me questions about baseball. This is where you get the answers.  If you have a question, use the link to send it to me in an e-mail. I'll post the answer for everyone to read. Thanks for visiting jerryreuss.com!

Can you sign a few baseball cards for me?

Sure, I can and for free. Just drop one or two baseball cards in an envelope with another self-addressed stamped envelope (self-sealing envelopes are a blessing!) and address it to:

Jerry Reuss
Los Angeles Dodgers
1000 Elysian Park Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90012

The Dodgers are kind enough to forward all mail so give my response some time.

Hey Jerry! Signing cards for free is great! What about baseballs, large pictures or uniform tops that I would love to have you sign?

Sorry, I can't do it through the mail. For one, they're too valuable if they're lost. Two, they require a special trip to the Post Office. The rule of thumb for me is if you can fit it into a business envelope, there's a good chance I'll sign it and return it.

There are some exceptions, however. I'll sign post card size pictures of me but no blank index cards or cash (do you really think I'll return that $100 bill you want me to sign?).

Also, I won't add inscriptions. I include those at the autograph shows.

If I didn't cover the autograph situation in full, send me an e-mail and I'll get back to you.

You played for 22 years in the big leagues. What was your biggest thrill?

That's an easy one. Winning the World Series with the Dodgers in 1981.  I dreamed of playing in a World Series like millions of other kids. I was blessed to have that dream come true.

In second place was my first day in the big leagues with the Cardinals on September 5, 1969. A little over two years earlier, I was in high school paying to watch the hometown Cards play. On that September night, I was one of the Cardinals with my own uniform and locker.

Third, pitching a no-hitter. More about that later.

You played for eight different teams. Was there a favorite?

If I was pitching in the starting rotation, I was happy wherever I played. So, my favorite team was the one I was playing for.

Since I enjoyed my greatest success with the Dodgers and the Pirates, I rank those years as the ones I enjoyed the most. 

What about uniform numbers? Did you choose them? Why did you have so many different numbers?

I wore 49 with the Cardinals as they assigned it to me. The Astros gave me 47 because 49 was taken. I chose 41 with the Pirates because of the way it looked on a highway sign that went through their spring training site in Bradenton, FL. Besides, it was a lyric of a song by the Allman Brothers named "Ramblin' Man." Playing with three teams in three years makes you a "Ramblin' Man."

I stayed with 41 in LA because it was available and I had become comfortable with it. Same with Cincinnati. The Angels already had a 41, 47 and 49. Time for something new. I asked for 44.

I returned to 41 with the White Sox because of the Highway 41 reference. I drove it everyday to the Ed Smith complex in Sarasota, FL during spring training. I played on four different teams in 1987-88. I was really ramblin'!

All of the previous numbers I had worn were taken in Milwaukee. So, I chose 21 to honor the greatest left-handed pitcher in Milwaukee history...Warren Spahn, my manager in Tulsa, OK during my minor league days with the Oilers. To this day, my former teammate and good friend, Jay Johnstone, believes that I wore 21 as a tribute to him. We'll just let him believe that.

Finally, the Pirates gave me 47 for my September call-up in 1990. I changed it to 49 for the last day of the season because I was the starting pitcher for that game. I was a September call-up in 1969 and 1990. Wearing the same number 49 just seemed right. 

The average major league career lasts 4-5 years. Yet, you played in 22 different seasons. To what do you attribute your longevity?

Very good question. Much of it has to do with God-given skill. A lot of it has to do with a willingness to make the sacrifices to be a success. The final part of the equation is just pure luck.

The God-given skill explains itself. I was truly blessed.

The "sacrifices" part has to do with the time spent working those skills. The hours, days, months, years spent practicing and training was a big part of those years from Little League through the Major Leagues. Factoring in injuries and surgeries just to continue playing was also a part. And we haven't even touched on the time spent away from family once I turned pro;

How lucky was I to be born at a time and place where I could hone the skill to throw a baseball. How about my parents who paid the fees and followed my career choice with encouragement. Or the coaches who gave their time to teach. Some credit has to be given to the team sponsors that supplied me with a uniform and the companies that built the fields that I played on;

The same goes for the high school and American Legion coaches who put the time in to teach the game, to schedule the buses and book hotel rooms, purchase the uniforms and equipment and prepare the fields. They did it all because they loved the game and their community;

Luck played a part when I was drafted by the Cardinals in 1967. Who knew the bountiful farm system would supply the expansion Padres and Expos with a number of major league-ready players. That played a big part in my major league debut in 1969 as many of those players were ahead of me on the depth chart in 1968 were somewhere else in 1969. The door was open and the mat said welcome.

Anyone associated with Major League Baseball will tell you that getting to the majors is the easy part. Staying there was a different story. In the minor leagues, you play to develop. In the majors, you play to win. If you can't or don't contribute, you'll move on. What keeps you at the big league level is the ability, not only to play, but to make the adjustments that contribute to the teams' success. Sometimes, even that isn't enough. You still have to find a place for yourself.

For some players, they have a long career because they do something well enough to fill a hole. In my case, I was a left-handed pitcher, who in my later years, could throw strikes. There were many people out there on my side which allowed me to get a job. And that helped. But, toward the end, I was a no longer a front-line pitcher. Still, I served a purpose. I bought some time for the "next big thing".

Understanding the adjustments needed and making it work is how I was able to play my last few years. I went from a prospect at 20 years old to 41 year-old role player who was older than some of my coaches.  That's how I played for 22 years.

What was it like being signed by your hometown team?

First of all, I was surprised the Cardinals were the team that drafted me. Other teams were more aggressive in their approach as the Cardinals just stayed in the background.

I was a 2nd round choice, number 30 in the draft of 1967. I attended my first Major League spring training in 1969. Imagine being a 19-year old kid just two years out of high school dressing next to guys who were in my baseball card collection. It was like the collection came alive. It was a dream come true for me. The dream that every little league player in the St. Louis area had. To play for the Cardinals.

I had a locker like they did, wore the same uniform, stretched on the field with them, did the same drills, ran sprints alongside them. I grew up listening to Harry Carey and Jack Buck tell me about them on the radio. I cheered for them when I went to Busch Stadium. I followed them everyday in the morning and afternoon newspaper. And now...I was one of them. Well, almost. Remember, it was spring training.

What a thrill it was when one of my heroes called me by name. "Hey, Jerry!" the voice said. "Make mine black, with two sugars!" "No problem. I'm on it." I replied. Life as a rookie. No player ever forgets it.