RICK LEPRE

We at The McHale Report can't fathom the arguments against admitting BISD baseball and softball coach Rick Lepre into the Rio Grande Valley Sports Hall of Fame. Nobody achieved his brief greatness in the history of major league baseball.

But let's save the best for last.

Raised in the Bronx and born with Yankee stripes covering his body as if he were the product of two zebras, Lepre was a high school and college phenom. He is in the New York Prep Stars Hall of Fame. A Dodger hater, he paid for his antipathetic karma when Los Angeles drafted him in 1972.

He quickly rose through the minors, beginning with the Bakersfield Dodgers in the California League before ascending to the Waterbury Dodgers in the Eastern League. He went to Vero Beach for spring training in 1974, but manager Walter Alston felt he needed more seasoning and assigned him to the Triple A Albuquerque Dukes in the Pacific Coast League where he tore the cover off the ball, but he remained in New Mexico until late August. Max Maxwell, dean of the RGV sportswriters, explains Lepre's failure to get an earlier call.

"This was an outstanding Dodger team that included hurlers Don Sutton, Tommy John, Al Downing, Charlie Hough, Rick Rhoden and Andy Messersmith, both Joe Ferguson and Steve Yeager behind the plate, Bill Buckner, Manny Mota and Jimmy Wynn in the outfield and the greatest infield in the team's history with Steve Garvey at first, Davey Lopes at second, Bill Russell at short and Ron Cey at third," commenced Maxwell.

"This club beat back the Big Red Machine during the regular season, defeated the Pittsburgh Pirates for the NL championship before falling to the Oakland A's in the World Series against the likes of Catfish Hunter and Reggie Jackson. These nines were baseball at its finest and finding a place on the bench, let alone in the starting lineup, was not an easy task. As a result, Lepre found himself stuck with the Dukes.

"But one player's bad luck can be another's good luck. Mota, if he's alive could be hitting from a rocking chair, pulled a hamstring and Alston elected to summon Lepre. On August 28, 1974, the manager placed Lepre in left and batted him second so he could advance the lead-off batter Lopes. The Dodgers were playing the Cubs who were at the bottom of the standings and would lose 100 games in '74. The wind was blowing out at Wrigley Field as it often does in Chicago. The rest, as they say, is history."

Lepre, who is an assistant softball coach for the Brownsville Eagles even though he has retired from the BISD, frequents El Hueso de Fraile whenever Doc Scully and "Delta" Dave Handelman are on stage together and throws back a few foreign beers. It was during one of these shows that Lepre related to Maxwell the details of his remarkable debut.

"UT's Burt Hooten, who would later become a Dodger, was on the mound," recalled Lepre. "Lopes struck out to start the game, so I could swing away. I took a strike and then swung at a high fast ball that I thought was little more than a pop-up. To my surprise, it sailed over the ivy and into the stands for a homer. In the third Hooten was still throwing. I swung at the first pitch and got more wood on the ball, but I never thought it would land in the left-field bleachers. Two home runs in my first two at-bats in the majors put me in a dream state. The rest of the contest turned into a fantasy.

"We were pounding the ball. With Sutton on the mound and cruising with a 6-0 lead, I stepped into the batter's box in the fifth with no outs and Lopes on first. I expected a bunt sign from the third-base coach, but his break-dance performance was a show to keep the Cubbies guessing. Ray Burris was in relief of Hooten. He threw three straight balls. Once again I looked at the third-base coach, but his meaningless gyrations meant I had the green light. I told myself that if Burris grooved a pitch over the middle of the plate, I would drive it. Thinking I would be taking, he served me a fastball waist high and I crushed it. After two solo shots, I smacked one with a runner on.

"In the seventh and leading 8-2, I was facing Dave LaRoche. The Cubs were going through the motions. LaRoche, his shoulders slouched, was lackadaisical in his delivery. He threw two curves in the dirt. I knew I would get a pitch to swat. Sure enough, he threw another curve, but this one hung and I hung it out to dry. I knew the minute I connected it was gone.

"The fray had turned into a rout. Up 11-3 in the ninth, Jim Todd was mopping up with probably no other thought than the cold beers waiting for him in the clubhouse. I was flying high and the next thing I knew the ball was flying high over the 375 mark in left field. I couldn't believe my good luck. Nobody had hit five homers in a game before and nobody has hit five homers in a game since.

"My luck turned bad that night. I was celebrating into the wee hours with by buddies who had come from New York to see me play. One of my friends was driving along Michigan Avenue and lost control. The car flipped over several times and I broke my back. I was paralyzed for two months. Fortunately, I learned to walk again, but I could never bat without an excruciating pain streaking down my spine."

Lepre, a stoic at heart, takes his rejection with a fatalistic attitude.

"If someone had told me that I was going to rip five homers in my only major league appearance, I would have said no way," he offered as he ordered a round of beers for Doc and Delta. "If someone had told me I was going to be in the Hall of Fame, I would have said no way. I was gratefully wrong about the first and I have no regrets about being right about the second."