CHICAGO — On either side of a highly successful but controversial NBA front-office career, Jerry Krause was a passionate and focused baseball scout determined to find the extra skill or character flaw that would dictate whether to complete a major acquisition.
That’s how I prefer to remember Krause, who has been poked more than a pincushion during “The Last Dance,” ESPN’s 10-part documentary on Michael Jordan and the 1997-98 Bulls.
I understand the frustrations of Bulls fans who felt deprived of a shot at another title by Krause’s mission to tear down a roster he believed had grown too pricey and too old to retain.
And Krause’s reputation for being abrasive wasn’t limited to basketball; one baseball scout told me he didn’t like Krause showing him up in a staff meeting after he recommended a veteran catcher who Krause thought was over the hill.
But there was no gray area with Krause, and a waffling scout serves no use to his bosses.
I noticed Krause’s focus and firm beliefs when I met him 36 years ago through Merv Harris, a longtime California writer who knew Krause from his days covering the Lakers in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Harris was covering high school sports at the time, and Krause — then scouting for the White Sox — alerted him that he would be scouting a junior college game in San Mateo, Calif., in the morning and a UCLA-Stanford game in the afternoon, specifically to watch Bruins outfielder Shane Mack.
Krause, wearing a fedora and trench coat, stood out among the area scouts wearing mesh caps and flannel shirts or Ocean Pacific jackets.
Despite the overall lack of prospects in the junior college game, Krause had little time to reminisce with Harris and was more focused on finding a player with a draft-worthy skill.
After the game, I asked Harris if I could follow him and Krause (who was out of listening distance) to Stanford.
Harris lifted his signature beret and said: “Sure. You’re going to be in for a surprise.”
Harris and Krause arrived at Sunken Diamond, Stanford’s home park, about five minutes ahead of me. Between outs, Harris and Krause relived their NBA days, with Krause crediting Harris for earning the trust of Wilt Chamberlain (you can look it up in Chamberlain’s 1973 autobiography), who was seeking a trade to the Lakers that happened a year later.
Krause joked between innings about the then-record $42 million divorce settlement between former Lakers owner Jack Kent Cooke and his wife in 1979. Krause re-enacted his phone call with Lakers coach Bill Sharman, who thought Cooke’s ex-wife deserved more money.
But for the most part, Krause’s eyes were locked on several players, particularly Mack. Three months later, the Padres selected Mack in the first round of the 1984 draft, well before the Sox’s first selection, but Krause identified a bigger prize a few months later.
Krause wasn’t convinced Scott Fletcher was the long-term answer at shortstop and concluded the path of 20-year-old Ozzie Guillen to the Padres was blocked by Garry Templeton. Krause watched Guillen for 17 consecutive games in four ballparks and even stayed in the same hotel as Guillen and his Triple-A Las Vegas teammates.
After the season, Krause persuaded his bosses to acquire Guillen, which they did in December 1984 in an eight-player trade centered on Cy Young Award winner LaMarr Hoyt. Guillen became a dependable shortstop for the Sox for 13 seasons before managing them to the 2005 World Series title.
The following spring, the Bulls hired Krause as their general manager, prompting a telephone conversation between me and Harris filled with laughter and disbelief.
But we should have known better, given Krause’s persistence as a basketball and baseball evaluator.
Six years earlier, Krause validated his nickname, “The Sleuth,” by wandering onto a minor league field at the Phillies complex in Florida during the Instructional League and identifying a third-year Class A first baseman named Greg Walker.
Krause persuaded then-Sox owner Bill Veeck to spend $12,500 on Walker in the Rule 5 draft, and Walker developed into the team’s starting first baseman for the better part of seven seasons.
I became reunited with Krause shortly after my arrival in Chicago in 2005, two years after Krause resigned as Bulls GM. Before a Sox home game, I introduced myself to Krause, which prompted an apprehensive pause.
But Krause warmed when I mentioned Harris and the doubleheader scouting mission, and he would greet me the same way in subsequent gatherings.
My dealings with former Sox pitcher and scout Bart Johnson were similar but not as frequent, and Johnson’s recent death reminded me of another gem.
Before one Sox home game, Johnson wasn’t around the back of the press box, where scouts often prepare for their assignments, staying out of the sun and hydrating properly.
But sitting at a table with me and few other talent evaluators, a veteran scout in a distinct voice praised the observations of Johnson, who apparently balked at the idea of first-pitch change-ups.
“You’re going to throw a change-up off what?” the scout said.
The scout? Krause, who spoke with full conviction.
I can attest to Krause dressing sharp. We ran into each other at a wedding nearly 10 years ago and laughed about wearing tuxedos and the oddity of meeting somewhere other than a ballpark.
Nevertheless, we had an enjoyable 20-minute discussion on baseball while our spouses drifted happily to another corner.
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