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Murphy brings fire to diamond, life


He isn't the type of guy who smiles when he doesn't feel like it.

And he isn't the kind of guy who holds back if things aren't going his way. He'll tell you to your face that you're an idiot or a slacker. If a reporter asks him a stupid question he might tell him to "go smoke some dope."

That's just the way Pat Murphy is, and if you can't take it, he really doesn't care.

Murphy, 45, brought his hard-driving style to ASU nine years ago from Notre Dame, where he had coached for seven years. He took the place of two respected and beloved longtime coaches at a school where success is defined as winning a national championship -- and nothing less.

So far, he has come up tantalizingly short, twice coming within one game of making it to the College World Series, and once getting within a game of the title, but never clinching it.

The team's performance on the field -- and Murphy's demeanor off of it -- have angered alumni, put off parents and prompted some players to leave ASU.

Many players defend Murphy, saying that while he's tough, he's a hell of a coach. Major league baseball player Craig Counsell, of the Milwaukee Brewers, goes so far as to say that he would never have made it to the big leagues without Murphy.

But none of the chatter -- be it positive or negative -- seems to faze Murphy, even as he sifts through hate mail from people who just can't figure out why ASU baseball is not playing in the national championship game each year.

"We finish seventh in the country and everybody still thinks we suck; that's a good experience," Murphy said. "That's how life is, no one really cares."

A Dream Realized

When he was a kid, Pat Murphy wanted nothing more than to be a part of Notre Dame. His friends in Syracuse, N.Y., called him the Notre Dame kid.

His walls were filled with posters and banners. He read all about the team, and he knew every stat on every player, all the games and all the legends.

As a student Murphy had tried four times to get into Notre Dame, but was rejected every time. So he went to Florida Atlantic, and then landed a job after graduation at Claremont University in California.

But it wasn't until years later, when Murphy was coaching football and baseball at a small college in Claremont, Calif., that he would have his shot.

A few weeks after his second season at Claremont, a Notre Dame baseball player came to visit his sister, who played volleyball at the school, and his sister introduced him to Murphy.

He told Murphy that Notre Dame's coach had resigned just days before and that the program was in danger of being dropped.

That was all Murphy needed to hear. Within a day, he was on the phone to Notre Dame's athletic office, pitching himself as the next head coach for the university's struggling baseball program.

This time, he was not going to give them a chance to say no.

"I called Gene Corgan, the athletic director, and said, 'I'm your next baseball coach,' " Murphy said. "I said, 'I don't want you to drop the program. I know Notre Dame; I love Notre Dame; I'll do it for nothing. I don't give a damn, I just want to be there.' "

Murphy overnighted his resume and bought himself a plane ticket for the next day, hoping for an interview.

Notre Dame was impressed, and within a few months, Murphy was named the new head coach. He soon found out that he had his work cut out for him.

With a coaching salary of only $7,000 a year, he had to teach P.E. classes to get by. And when it came to the team, there were only two athletes on the entire squad who had been recruited to play on scholarship.

The one thing Murphy did have was a passion for the university and a drive to turn the baseball program into a winner.

In 1987, the year before he showed up, Notre Dame had a record of 15-29. In the three previous years combined, it had posted a combined record of 65-80.

Demolition Man

The first thing the new coach did was turn practices into competitions, forcing players to either play hard or go home.

"I remember being a freshman doing a drill [at practice] and a junior cheap-shotting the hell out of me and being injured for two weeks," said ASU assistant coach and former Notre Dame player Mike Rooney. "But it was great -- that's what made us good.

"Guys that played at Notre Dame, they knew this is not just sign up for your 300 at bats and have a heck of a time," Rooney said. "You better love competing. You better love the fire. You better love people firing back at you."

Murphy found hidden gems like current major league player Craig Counsell, a guy whose skills had been overlooked by other schools.

And he got the most out of guys who were not superstars physically, but whom he pushed to be better.

John Flanagan, a former player who was on the team when Murphy arrived, said Murphy transformed the team.

"It was a very laid-back program [before Murphy arrived]. We were just used to having our nice, easy practice and go out and have somebody kick our ass and take it with a smile," Flanagan said. "He came in, and it was a completely different way of going about business. He taught us what it meant to have to prepare to win.

"The intensity was jumped up about 10 notches. It was kind of culture shock for the guys that were in the program."

By Murphy's second year [1988], the Irish were in the NCAA tournament for the first time since 1970. By his seventh season, he had guided Notre Dame to five straight conference championships.

But with success came frustrations. He had guided the Irish program to success so quickly that the university was slow to react.

Murphy found himself raising money for scholarships on his own, and he was determined to get a new park to replace the one that had been around since the 1950s. He canvassed Notre Dame alumni for donations, but it became clearer and clearer to him that at Notre Dame, it was football, not baseball, that came first.

By the time Notre Dame joined the Big East Conference, Murphy felt he had to move on. He had already turned down offers to coach at Miami and Tulane, both established programs, but when an offer came from ASU, he decided to accept.

Murphy knew he would be following in the footsteps of two legendary coaches, the most recent of whom had died at the end of the prior season.

He would be taking over a program that had been to the College World Series and had managed to rack up five No. 1's in the world of college baseball.

He would face those No. 1's [symbolizing the program's past national championships] every day hanging on the right field fence across from the Sun Devils' home dugout at Packard Stadium. But again, Pat Murphy wasn't fazed.

"In coaching, you don't have an opportunity all of the time to challenge yourself and some coaches opt not to do that," he said. "Who wants that job? Who wants to follow a legend, a guy that dies? I chose to do that. I don't know what that says about me. Am I stupid?"

The Wake

Former ASU Athletic Director Charles Harris wanted a man who could come in with his own vision, someone who would shape the team for the future.

"We needed to not look for the next Jim Brock," Harris said. Brock had coached at ASU from 1972 until his untimely death in 1994, in which time he led the program to two national championships and 13 College World Series appearances,.

"You look at what Jim Brock accomplished, and I think it says an awful lot about Pat to not only be able to adjust, but to be unwavering in what he believed was the right thing to do for the program," Harris said.

But Murphy had a strike against him from the start: He had not been the choice of Brock's family. They had wanted someone else to take over the program, someone who had been involved in the program when Brock was there.

He also quickly came up against some alumni who expected to win year in and year out.

It all made for a rocky first couple of years.

"I made a lot of enemies, and I didn't take advantage of what I had here," Murphy says now. "I didn't take advantage of the energy; I fought the energy.

"You get a job like ASU and come in and think you know everything, and everybody is against you because you came in with the wrong mindset," he added. "It was about fighting these demons and being better than them, and you don't know what the hell you're doing. You [should] come in and be yourself and do the same thing you've been doing."

It would have helped if his team had been winning.

Even though the Sun Devils were coming off two straight College World Series appearances, Murphy failed to make it into the NCAA tournament his first two years on the job. In his third year, he came tantalizingly close [one win away from the College World Series].

In 1998, the team made it to the College World Series despite an unspectacular regular season and came within a game of the national championship.

ASU swept through the CWS, winning every game on the way to the championship game. But unlike the current format, where a team must lose twice in order to be eliminated, the championship was in the form of a one-game playoff.

The Sun Devils lost in the most high-scoring championship game in CWS history, a 21-14 slugfest that helped push along the rules change regarding aluminum bats [the differential between weight and bat length was decreased].

ASU's loss went down hard for the players and the fans. As for Murphy, he'll tell you he was shafted by the NCAA, which changed the rules governing how a team is eliminated from the championship the very next year. That's just one example in a slew of bad experiences with the NCAA for Murphy.

Perhaps one of Murphy's most frustrating moments came last season. Boasting a team ranked in the top five with a record of 50-14, Murphy was once again dealt a tough hand by the NCAA.

Rather than getting one of the eight super regional sites that their ranking would have justified, the team was forced to play in the same super regional as Cal State Fullerton, which at the time was ranked No. 2 in the country.

Despite that, the Sun Devils were once again only a game away from the College World Series, yet the team lost the road series two games to one.

Although the team finished seventh in the nation with over 50 wins, it wasn't good enough for some of the boosters in Tempe.

Murphy says many of those fans don't understand that things have changed since the glory days of ASU baseball.

Winning a national championship wasn't easy back when Brock and Bobby Winkles coached, Murphy argues, but it's harder now.

"When Bobby Winkles was coaching [1959-1971], we would be playing Air Force and Idaho in order to get to Omaha -- that's a little different," he says. "Not that Bobby wasn't a great coach, but it was a little different road. He was evaluated differently. Here it is a different time in college baseball."

Taskmaster

There is only one way to play for Pat Murphy, and that is all-out. Whether in practice or in a game, Murphy demands both effort and desire. And if he doesn't get it, there is going to be a price to pay.

Current and former players describe a season with Murphy as "grueling." They say Murphy is "brutally" honest with his players about their weaknesses and always looking to improve their strengths.

Mark Sopko, a pitcher on last year's team and now playing in the Toronto Blue Jays farm system, said that although there were times when he did not agree with some of Murphy's methods, he appreciated them later.

"He would pretty much talk to you one on one and tell you whether you were horseshit or not." Sopko said. "He expects a lot of out his players. One day he'd like you; the next day he would be on you. He'd ride you, but that was only to get the best out of you."

Counsell said, "Every day there is a challenge for you to become a better player. It's just something that you become accustomed to. The challenges he presents you every day make you so mentally tough. I don't think I'd be in the big leagues if I didn't have four years with coach Murphy."

Other players, like senior Ryan Schroyer, who transferred from ASU to San Diego State at the end of last season to get away from Murphy, see it differently.

"I didn't like seeing what happened with my teammates," Schroyer said. "The way he treated them, the way he gave no respect to any of his players. It was just a constant, never-ending nagging and psychological games."

Although he would not cite any specific examples, Schroyer said he didn't like the way teammates like Rod Allen were treated. Allen had been a star outfielder for the team, but had gotten less and less playing time after a stellar freshman year. After hitting .389 his freshman year, his stats dropped off considerably in his sophomore and junior campaigns.

Allen, who transferred to Oklahoma State to play this season, did not want to comment, saying that he was still upset about what happened at ASU.

Murphy and his coaches say Allen brought it on himself, that they were not going to hand him a position he hadn't earned, and he was replaced as the starting center fielder a quarter into the season last year.

"I treated that kid great; he had outside influences [telling him] that I was screwing him," Murphy said. "You've got to take responsibility that's yours.

"Those types of things are the reason a team breaks up and doesn't win a national championship when they could have. He hit .360 his first year he came in here, and then he started working with his dad, so I'd say he ought to fire his hitting coach."

But Allen wasn't the only one to leave the team. Just this season junior Frank Mesa quit midseason because baseball was not fun anymore.

Assistant Coach Mike Rooney says the same thing happened when Murphy coached at Notre Dame -- some players thrived and others couldn't take it and quit.

"I'm still friends with both parties, and they all say the same thing: that was a great experience," Rooney said.

One thing is for certain: his style wins games. The proof is his 772 career coaching victories in just 19 seasons and NCAA record 506 games [all at ASU] without a Murphy team being shut out.

Growing up

In many ways, Murphy was shaped by his father, both positively and negatively.

His father, Ty Murphy, was a hard-driving, hard-drinking real estate agent whose interactions with his sons revolved around sports. He and all four boys would huddle around the radio and, later, the television to watch Notre Dame football.

Ty also pushed his kids to play sports, and Pat, the youngest by almost five years, took to football, baseball and boxing.

By his own admission, Murphy was a bit of a rough kid. When he wasn't playing sports, he was hanging out with other kids in the streets.

If you were to ask an old high school acquaintance what Murphy would be up to, they may say the same thing his friends are up to: one now drives a truck for a living, another is serving time in jail.

Murphy remembers a father who couldn't control his drinking and a mother who didn't seem to know how to deal with it.

"We had the police at our house, we had plenty of fights, plenty of rough holidays and plenty of chaos," Murphy said. "When you're in an alcoholic home, the alcohol runs the home."

By the time he was 12, he was spending most of his time away from home, avoiding his father as much as possible.

"When you grow up in that environment, you learn to fend for yourself," Murphy said.

He insists that his father "loved us intensely; he just had his way of showing it. People try to make you be angry at that stuff, but I don't hold it against him."

After high school, Murphy went to Bowling Green University in Ohio to play baseball, but was unsuccessful.

Then, he headed for Florida to see if he could make it as a professional boxer. On his way, he saw a sign on the side of the road: "Florida Atlantic."

Pulling over to see the school, Murphy met the man who would change his life, Steve Traylor, the new coach of a brand new baseball program.

Traylor remembers the day Murphy walked into his office.

"His first question was: Do you have a baseball team?" Traylor said.

Traylor did, and he was willing to give Murphy a try. All Murphy had to do was enroll in classes, something he did right after he left Traylor's office.

"I don't know if I gave it much thought until I went out on the field and there he was," Traylor said.

Soon Murphy was playing all over the field for FAU.

"I couldn't find a coach that could deal with me -- and Traylor gave me that," Murphy said.

Traylor also saw something in Murphy that made him think he could be a good coach. Murphy listened, and after graduation, he took a head coaching job at Division III Maryvale in Tennessee, then went back at FAU as a graduate assistant to Traylor.

It was Traylor who helped him land the job at Claremont, where Murphy coached both football and baseball.

Looking ahead

A couple of years ago, Murphy was offered over $300,000 a year to coach at Hawaii University. He turned it down, despite the fact it would be less pressure and fewer headaches.

"I plan on being here, there's no reason not to be here," Murphy said. "I haven't achieved what I want to achieve here. I want [ASU] to be an elite program."

He also has family in the Valley including a 3-year-old son, Kai, who he spends as much time with as possible. Murphy often brings him to practice so that Kai can work on his batting and fielding skills. Kai runs around with his right-handed glove on his left hand.

Sometimes after games, Kai runs the bases as his father looks on.

Murphy is divorced from Kai's mother, his second wife. He also has a daughter in Tennessee, from his first marriage.

"I would have screwed her up if she had to go through my shit," Murphy said with a smile.

Now, when he eats pretend sandwiches made by his son (always with American cheese), Murphy is at ease in a way that he rarely is with anyone else.

"I feel so blessed; I just enjoy him every day," he said. "The greatest thing I have ever achieved in my life is to have the opportunity to be a parent on a daily basis."

Reach the reporter at matthew.schubert@asu.edu.


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