Sandwiched between Boog Powell and Eddie Murray in Oriole first base lore, Lee May was a slugger known as “the Big Bopper.” But years later, his teammates recalled him more for the person he was.
At the Orioles’ spring training camp in Miami in 1977, veterans Pat Kelly and Lee May were standing in the outfield shagging flies one morning after taking their batting practice cuts. A rookie had followed them into the batter’s box and was hammering pitches over their heads and over the wall.
“Pretty good,” Kelly said.
“I’ll say,” May replied.
“Wonder where he plays,” Kelly said.
As they continued to watch, the rookie, a 21-year-old switch-hitter from California named Eddie Murray, completed his hitting session, put down his bat, picked up his glove and took his position in the field.
First base.
May’s position.
“Oh, Lee,” Kelly said, turning to his friend sympathetically.
Ken Singleton laughed as he told that story years later when I interviewed him for my book on Orioles history. He was recounting it because it signaled the arrival of Murray, a future Hall of Fame selection who would bash 504 home runs and drive in 1,917 runs for the Orioles and four other teams over the next 21 seasons. But Singleton also told the story because it was momentous for May, his good friend — that fateful moment every player eventually experiences, when you realize your replacement has arrived to take your job.
If Murray hadn’t joined the team, May’s job as the Orioles’ everyday first baseman never would have been in jeopardy in 1977. The Orioles had acquired him from Houston in 1975 to replace Boog Powell in the heart of their batting order, and he had done just that, producing 45 home runs and 208 RBIs over two seasons. Although he was 34 years old in 1977, he was still a premier player.
In fact, he was so good that manager Earl Weaver kept him at first base for most of that season, breaking Murray into the major leagues as the Orioles’ primary designated hitter. They were a potent pairing. On a Baltimore team that won 97 games, May produced 27 home runs and 99 RBIs, and Murray was named Rookie of the Year in the American League after hitting .283 with 27 home runs and 88 RBIs.
As the season wore on, though, Weaver played Murray more and more at first base, moving May to DH. Then that switch became permanent the next year. And the player who mentored Murray throughout it all, teaching him the nuances of playing first base in the majors, was the player he was replacing.
“Lee took Eddie under his wing. Lee was great. He didn’t mind working with Eddie at first base even though Eddie obviously was going to take his job,” Elrod Hendricks told me years later in his Bird Tapes interview.
“Lee had some good qualities and tried to show me the right way to do things … and not do things,” Murray recalled in his Bird Tapes interview. “Like, always listen. If someone tells you five things, you might use two but that’s two more than you had. And he said, ‘If you sit down and break bread with someone, you should be able to pick up a check.’ So not just baseball things. Being a major leaguer.”
I didn’t interview May for my book, which was published in 2001, and I’ve regretted the glaring omission. May hit 354 home runs in 2,071 major league games over 18 seasons with the Reds, Astros, Orioles and Royals. He would have been sought-after in today’s analytics-driven game — he tried to hammer the ball as hard as he could with every swing, a tendency many clubs now preach.
Although May is sandwiched between first base icons Powell and Murray in Oriole lore, many of his teammates praised him in their interviews for my book, as much for his personality as his potent bat.
“Lee had a strong personality,” Singleton said. “When you look at baseball teams, there are certain guys that everybody kind of leans on and goes to for advice. That was Lee. He was a terrific addition to the team.”
Doug DeCinces added, “Lee just had infinite wisdom in so many areas. He and Don Baylor had the most authority in the clubhouse of anyone I was ever around.”
According to many, May was especially generous with younger players such as Murray, going so far as to buy them their first suits to wear on the road.
“He was fantastic, like a father figure,” Hendricks told me. “He nurtured the rookies until he felt they could be on their own. He’d see them doing the wrong things and say, ‘Hey, hey, son, come here, we have to talk. You just don’t do that, you know.’”
As a youngster in Birmingham Alabama, May was big for his age and a standout athlete who starred in football and basketball as well as baseball. According to a Society of American Baseball Research profile, he kept a copy of his birth certificate in his back pocket for when opposing coaches doubted his age.
Coming out of high school in the early ’60s, he turned down a football scholarship to the University of Nebraska to sign with the Cincinnati Reds. After a steady rise through the minors, he became the Reds’ first baseman in 1968. He hit 38 home runs in 1969, 34 home runs in 1970 and 39 home runs in 1971. A nickname his teammates had given him stuck: “the Big Bopper.”
In 1970, May watched from the opposing dugout as the Orioles’ Brooks Robinson devastated the Reds in the World Series with a legendary series of defensive stops. Hendricks and May went out for dinner one night during the series — they had played winter ball together — and Hendricks recalled May just shaking his head in wonderment. “No matter where you hit it, he’s there,” May said of Robinson.
The Reds traded May to Houston in 1972 and the Astros sent him to Baltimore three years later. He immediately became a mainstay for Weaver and there was no end in sight until Murray arrived.
Weaver, in his Bird Tapes interview, told me, “I had to play Eddie [in 1977]. He didn’t say boo, but he could play. Lee had done nothing wrong [in 1976], drove in his hundred runs, made three errors all year. You just don’t displace a veteran like that until you find out if Eddie is going to be able to hit. But Eddie got in the lineup and never got out. Lee was a great person and he could see the writing on the wall. So Eddie got to start playing a little more first base, a little more first base, and he had much more range than Lee, and Lee was intelligent and accepted it.”
As evidence of the respect he engendered for his play and clubhouse impact, May remained with the Orioles for four more years after Murray arrived. He appeared in 124 games, mostly as the DH, on the pennant-winning team in 1979.
“Great player and just good people,” Murray said about May. “When Earl would scream at someone, Lee was the one who would come along behind Earl and pat the guy and say, ‘Way to go, keep your head up.’ They were almost a team that way, Earl and Lee. Earl was making his point. And Lee was, too.”
Subscribe to The Bird Tapes here: birdtapes.substack.com/subscribe
You’ll receive instant access to vintage audio interviews with Orioles legends, including:
And many more to come, added weekly
BALTIMORE--What happened? Two of the most prominent acquisitions of last December played key roles in…
BALTIMORE—Orioles manager Craig Albernaz doesn’t think slugging first baseman Pete Alonso is pressing. Alonso is…
Through 28 games, Oriole starting pitchers have a 4.56 ERA, 22nd in baseball. The good…
Question: Why did the Orioles' High-A affiliation team switch from Aberdeen to Frederick? From: Jacob…