MLB

Frank Viola on his coaching future, favorite mentor, steroid era

PORT ST. LUCIE — This past Wednesday morning, in the Mets’ clubhouse at Tradition Field, I had a conversation with Frank Viola, the Long Island native, St. John’s alumnus and former Mets pitcher who won the 1988 American League Cy Young Award while with the Twins.

The Mets promoted Viola to pitching coach of their Triple-A Las Vegas affiliate in what will be his fourth season back in the organization. He spent the prior two years as the pitching coach for Class A Savannah, and in 2011, he worked the same job for Class A Brooklyn. Viola was out of professional ball from his retirement following the 1996 season through 2010, coaching high school and college players during that time.

KD: Are you now aspiring to get a major-league (coaching) job?

FV: If you would have asked me that four years ago, I don’t know what my answer would have been. But after doing this for three years, I know I can handle it. I guess that’s the best way I can put it. But there’s only 30 jobs available. The best part about this gig is that I love being able to work with the kids, at any level. They need you. If you could tell them, and lead them, and guide them where they could take care of themselves through words that you say, you’re doing a good job.

And the thing I love, and the thing I remember more than anything, was people talking the mental part of the game. Everybody’s got the physical tools. It’s the mental part that separates the good big-leaguers from the guys who make the majors. And that’s my strength.

And so if I’m able to share that, if you give me the opportunity to share that, if you’re willing to listen, hopefully that’ll help them out a little bit. I think that’s the biggest reason why I got back in the game, because that meant everything to me. The Mets have been great as far as moving up the ladder. We’ll see where it takes me.

KD: Who was your favorite pitching coach when you were a pitcher?

FV: That’s a tough question. I guess from the mental part of it, it had to be Johnny Podres. He was a lefty. He taught me the changeup. But he really guided me as far of the mental part of the game like we were discussing. I also had a pitching coach at St. John’s by the name of Howie Gershberg who was phenomenal — Johnny Franco and I both had him — and he helped us so much with the mental part of the game, too. So I would say those two helped most with the mental. Dick Such, who was with me in Minnesota, and Mel Stottlemyre were just tremendous to just talk to or work with. And you always had to have a rapport. And those guys were great. I was very fortunate. I had some really good ones.

KD: Where did you have Podres?

FV: With the Twins, when I started.

KD: OK. I didn’t remember that.

FV: He was there with Billy Gardner, back in the early ’80s.

KD: Pre-Tom Kelly.

FV: Exactly, it was Billy Gardner, and then Ray Miller took over for a year and was a disaster, and then Tom Kelly took over.

KD: And then Ray got another job in Baltimore, and he was a disaster there, too.

FV: He should’ve stuck where he knew best, as a pitching coach.

KD: He did, eventually. I wanted to ask you, Frank, given the time you pitched in the big leagues and your success, it was the time when Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire were coming to be. Did you have any idea what was going on in terms of steroids?

FV: I was so naïve. I was so naïve. But after everything was said and done, I was pretty proud of myself for what I accomplished during the time. I can look you in the eye and say I did it the right way. But you know what? It’s not here nor there. That’s part of the game. There were no rules or regulations. They did what they did, and you just have to live with that.

Was that right or wrong? Of course it’s wrong. It’s cheating the game. But nobody made a big deal out of it. But to be able to do what I did for a period of time, I’m proud of it.

KD: Yeah. I was just curious whether the way the ball started coming off the bats of certain guys, you ever…

FV: I gave up homers anyway. It didn’t matter. Dead ball, live ball, it didn’t matter. But it was fun.