3179
by rusty2
Yankee Ends Real Corker Of a Mystery
By BUSTER OLNEY
Published: April 11, 1999
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Jason Grimsley, a relief pitcher in his first season with the Yankees, was among those who flocked to see the movie ''Mission: Impossible'' in 1996, and as he watched Tom Cruise and an accomplice crawl through an air duct to steal secret information, memories of Grimsley's own impossible mission came back to him.
Grimsley didn't steal government secrets, but he was at the center of a heist that is part of baseball lore for its audacity and ingenuity. For the first time, Grimsley acknowledged last week that it was he who crawled through the innards of Chicago's Comiskey Park into the umpires' dressing room on July 15, 1994, to replace an illegally corked bat of his Cleveland Indians teammate Albert Belle with one that was cork-free.
''That was one of the biggest adrenaline rushes I've ever experienced,'' Grimsley said.
The Indians were in a playoff race with the White Sox as they played in Chicago, and Belle, the Indians' left fielder, was obliterating American League pitching -- when the season was ended by a strike on Aug. 12, he had a .357 average and 36 home runs.
Chicago's manager, Gene Lamont, had been tipped off that Belle might have hollowed out the barrel of his bat and filled it with cork, which makes the head of the bat lighter, increasing the speed of the swing. As is the prerogative of any manager, Lamont challenged the legality of Belle's bat in the first inning, a process that automatically prompted an umpire, Dave Phillips, to take the bat and lock it in his dressing room for later examination.
As the bat was removed from the field, the Cleveland dugout was seized with concern. Belle's teammates knew it contained the illegal substance, and once that was discovered, their best hitter would certainly be suspended.
Grimsley, who was one of the Indians' starting pitchers but was not working that night, said, ''As I was sitting there, the thought came to my mind: I can get that bat.''
Grimsley, whose role was confirmed by an American League official, said he knew that the clubhouse had a false ceiling, with removable square tiles, and he surmised that the umpires' dressing room, on the same level, had the same kind of ceiling. Grimsley walked back toward the clubhouse and down a hallway to do some reconnaissance -- he noted the whereabouts of the umpires' room, and the cinder-block walls that framed the rooms.
If he climbed above the ceiling, Grimsley figured, he could crawl atop the cinder-block walls and work his way from the Indians' clubhouse to the umpires' room. He estimated the distance between the clubhouse and the umpires' room to be at least 100 feet.
Grimsley, who was born and reared in Cleveland, Tex., is 6 feet 3 inches and 180 pounds -- as tall and lanky as a saguaro cactus. He had never done this sort of thing before, but he had never been afraid of adventure. He climbed trees aggressively as a child, loved to ride his bike and his motorcycle over jumps. When he was 12, he ran a motorcycle over a stump and lost his big left toe.
''This was like a puzzle to be solved,'' he said. ''It's like the game we play -- this was a challenge.''
Grimsley, who was the primary operative but said he was aided by another member of the organization who was not a player, procured a yellow flashlight and a cork-free bat, then climbed onto the desk in the office of Manager Mike Hargrove, removed a ceiling tile and climbed on top of the cinder-block wall.
The wall Grimsley had to balance on was about 18 inches wide. A slip and he would fall through the ceiling.
Grimsley aimed his flashlight and located a wall at which he knew he would have to turn. Some light seeped through the tile cracks, but it was very dark, and very hot.