Johnnie LeMaster was part of the notorious “God Squad” of the SF Giants in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Here is an excerpt about LeMaster from my book, The God Squad: The Born-Again San Francisco Giants of 1978.
The boos began in 1978 for Johnnie LeMaster, a born-again Christian, who played in the Major Leagues for 13 seasons, the first 10 with the San Francisco Giants. Baseball writer Sam Miller wrote how booing him began: “The Giants had ace John Montefusco on the mound, and he pitched beautifully, but his teammates managed only a single hit. LeMaster made a throwing error that led to a run, and the Giants lost 1–0. The fans booed LeMaster, and they just . . . never stopped. They developed a habit and never bothered to break it.”
Later, Glenn Schwarz of the San Francisco Examiner reported: “The first chorus of boos drifted out from the Candlestick stands and reached Johnnie LeMaster’s ears a week ago. By the weekend, you didn’t need a scorecard to know who was coming to bat for the San Francisco Giants. As the catcalls increased, LeMaster bit his lower lip and told himself to ignore the noise.
Johnnie LeMaster: ‘It’s something I have to live with. The fans pay their money and can boo when they want. You just can’t let it get to you.
It was no coincidence that it began after LeMaster made a throwing error behind John Montefusco, leading to an unearned run for Atlanta and a 1–0 defeat for the “the Count” (as they called Montefusco back then), “I would say the error had a little to do with the boos. Maybe a lot,” LeMaster said, “But I haven’t hit yet either.”
The Giants had a great year in 1978, challenging the Dodgers and Reds for the division title until a September swoon. Still, when the Giants returned to their losing ways in 1979 (71–91 record), the fans, for some reason, directed their displeasure at LeMaster. As Miller put it, “It would be too emotionally draining, too real, for Giants fans to hate all 25 players on their losing club, so they invented a myth that LeMaster alone was the scapegoat.”
“The only thing I could figure out is I would make an error at the wrong time of the game or maybe not get a base hit at the right time,” LeMaster said. “Our record wasn’t the greatest the whole time I played there. Maybe they needed somebody to let their frustration or anger out.”
His wife, Debbie, kiddingly suggested he change his name to “Boo.” LeMaster ran with the idea and asked equipment manager Eddie Logan to make a jersey with “BOO” on the back in place of his last name. After a couple of weeks, on July 23, 1979, at Candlestick Park, LeMaster got up the courage to wear it in a game. The only teammate who knew LeMaster would pull the stunt was Rob Andrews.
Manager Joe Altobelli didn’t have the best eyesight and asked Andrews why LeMaster had “Bob” on the back of his jersey. That broke up everybody in the dugout. The caper was short-lived. LeMaster only got to wear the jersey in the field in the top half of the first inning before General Manager Spec Richardson intervened, fired the equipment manager, and ordered LeMaster to put on his regular jersey.
“But, when the game was over,” LeMaster related, “where do you think every newspaper reporter and TV camera in the San Francisco Bay Area was? And I mean, I had mikes in front of my face like you wouldn’t believe. But here’s the thing about it. The fans loved it. The reporters loved it. They ate it up. My general manager fined me $500 for being out of uniform. But it was the best fine that I’d ever had. Eddie Logan got his job back, and everything ended well.”
LeMaster had no regrets. Years later, he told the high school baseball players he coached, “Every once in a while, it’s not bad to do something a little bit crazy. Sometimes doing something a little crazy makes people realize you’re as human as they are.”
