The very nature of his role lends an anonymity to his career, but what set him apart was his kindness and humility.
A ballplayer dies; the amount of attention his passing gets is proportional to his career statistics, and he is defined by milestones such as All-Star selections and championships. It is a wholly inadequate way to reflect upon a life and never more so than in the case of Jeff Innis.
A former pitcher for the Mets, Innis died on Sunday, five years after a cancer diagnosis. He was just 59 years old. He spent his final days in a Georgia hospice surrounded by family after a GoFundMe campaign helped bring him home from a Houston hospital, where doctors had done all they could for him. Obituaries mentioned that he pitched seven seasons for New York, from 1987 through ’93, and that he did so as a workhorse middle reliever. Innis pitched in more games in his last three seasons, 212, than any other National League pitcher.
Mitchell Layton/Getty Images
Jeff was so much more. He was a kind, smart, observant overachiever with a psychology degree from the University of Illinois and a master’s degree in wit. Innis of the Illini was nicknamed “The I-Man” and at 6'1" and 170 pounds he looked the part of his signature letter. A 13th-round pick who threw sidearm no harder than 83 miles per hour, his workload spoke to his determination more than his stuff.
Once asked how he was able to pitch so often, Innis replied, “No muscle tissue to get in the way.”
What set Jeff apart was his kindness and humility. Working the Mets’ clubhouse back in those days, you had to navigate tremendous egos, attitudes and sometimes hostility. Innis’s locker was without fail a port of comfort in the storm. He was a big leaguer without a big league attitude. He ate tuna on white every day. He was Everyman. He had all the attributes you would like to think you would have if you had the skill to carry you there. Pride without ego. The empathy to know those in uniform are no better than those who are not. The gift to meet each day with a laugh, especially the difficult ones.
“I’m not a marquee player,” he once said. “I’m painfully aware of that. I treat every game like it’s my last.”
The Mets did not appreciate Innis as much as they should have because he did not throw hard. Manager Davey Johnson used Innis mostly in games New York was losing. From 1987 to ’91, for instance, the Mets were 30–105 when Innis pitched. He was expendable. Whenever New York needed to clear a roster spot, Innis was demoted to Triple A Tidewater.
Innis was known also for his uncanny imitations of people around the team, including Frank Cashen, the team’s irascible general manager. One day near the dugout Cashen said to Innis, “Do you want to see my Jeff Innis imitation?”
Innis didn’t miss a beat.
“I know the Innis imitation,” he said. “Just get on a plane and fly to Tidewater—about 10 times.”
It was a funny line, but it hinted at the difficulty of his career. Innis kept getting hitters out, but his spot was always tenuous.
“When you get sent down as many times as I have, there’s always a cloud,” he said. “And it can rain on you at any time.”
The very nature of his role lends an anonymity to his career. In 1991, for instance, he pitched in 69 games with a 2.66 ERA while allowing just two home runs. In arbitration he asked for $650,000. The Mets countered at $355,000. They argued that Innis neither won nor saved a game all season—the first player in history without a win or save in that many games. The arbitrator ruled in favor of the Mets. During the hearing Innis learned he pitched more times with his team trailing, 56, than any other pitcher.
“I could have been 15–1,” he said, “if we had come back 15 times.”
Innis in 1994 and ’95 bounced among minor league affiliates of the Twins, Padres and Phillies. He never did pitch again in the majors, which put him in select company. Innis posted a 3.05 ERA over 288 games with the Mets. Only 11 other pitchers since 1900 pitched that well and that often for only one team. Eight of them are Hall of Famers: Don Drysdale, Whitey Ford, Bob Gibson, Carl Hubbell, Walter Johnson, Sandy Koufax, Jim Palmer and Mariano Rivera. The others are Mel Stottlemyre, Jim Scott and John Hiller.
Innis was proud to have pitched for only the Mets. He returned to their Fantasy Camp last fall. He is one of only two pitchers to appear in 200 games for the Mets without pitching for another major league team. The other, Pedro Feliciano, died suddenly two months ago at age 45.
Upon retirement, Innis sold commercial insurance. He also devoted time to youth baseball players through his clinic, Jeff Innis Pitching. He was known among the kids and their parents for his humor and humility—no differently than how big league teammates remembered him.
“I used to think being a big league player was a really big deal,” he once said. “But when I look around at some of the guys who are big leaguers, I realize it really isn’t that big a deal.”
The mistake fans make is to conflate achievement with character. We root for players because they help our favorite team win while asking nothing of character, or worse, excusing it. The I-Man was the kind of ballplayer you could root for and feel very good about it.
More MLB Coverage:
• The Outfield of Active Players Closest to the Cooperstown Cut Line
• The Infield of Active Players Closest to the Cooperstown Cut Line
• WAR Is Not the Solution for Baseball’s Labor Woes
• Integrity Still Matters for the Hall of Fame