Terry Steinbach won one World Series during his 14-year major-league playing career, and while that remains the pinnacle of his ball-playing days, he admits that the circumstances of that championship leave him with conflicting feelings about it.
"The best way for me to describe it is, it's a package deal. It was celebratory for us, for having achieved something that we worked, all of us as a group, literally years for," the Twins' bench coach said. "But at the same time, the humanitarian in you remembers that a lot of people lost their lives, their property, all the damage, so it was hard to feel that a game, a series, was important, with all that was going on around us."
That's because, 25 years ago today, Steinbach and the Oakland A's were at Candlestick Park, getting ready for Game 3 of the Bay Bridge Series, when the Loma Prieta earthquake hit. "It seems like it was a just a couple years ago," Steinbach said. "I remember it like it was."
The A's were a determined bunch that fall, intent upon not letting the previous year's disappointment against Kirk Gibson and the Dodgers repeat itself. Steinbach had been the hero of Game 2, belting a three-run homer off Rick Reuschel, but with Bob Welch scheduled to pitch Game 3 for the A's, Steinbach was told by manager Tony La Russa that he wouldn't be in the lineup that day.
"It was kind of a nice break, because when you're catching, you're always grinding. You're mind's constantly going," he said. "So this was a chance for me to relax for a little while. I thought, 'Yeah, I'll see what this World Series stuff is all about.' "
He was in the A's dugout, chatting with Oakland reliever Todd Burns, about a half-hour before first pitch, when a huge roar interrupted them. Steinbach figured it was a jet, perhaps part of the pregame ceremonies, "but I didn't think they would let planes fly so low. It was really loud," he said. "I looked up for the plane, and noticed that the concrete overhang above the upper deck was shaking, almost pulsating, like it was made of tin. But I knew, hey, that's concrete, and it's moving like you were flipping a jump rope."
By then, the bench he was sitting on had begun jerking violently, and it kept getting worse, "for a good 8 to 10 seconds," Steinbach remembered. Burns, a southern Californian who had felt quakes before, jumped up and shouted, "Earthquake!" He and Steinbach hurried up the stairs to the field as the shaking subsided, and the crowd cheered. "He said, 'Wow, that was a good one,' " Steinbach said. "I think everyone felt like, 'Hey, we survived, no damage. That was really memorable. Now let's go play ball."
Within a minute, however, the scoreboards and sound system suddenly shut off as power was lost in the ballpark. Rumors about damage around the city began spreading, but since cell phones were not yet commonplace and information was hard to come by, reports of a road collapse on the Bay Bridge, for instance, left the players wondering "Is the bridge knocked over into the water? I mean, you just don't know."