Boston's Conquistador

There is no other delivery like it in baseball. After winding up with a spasmodic ensemble of twitches, hesitations and jerks, Boston Red Sox Righthander Luis Tiant turns his back to home plate, kicks toward third, then spins around to ward the batter like a pirouetting ballerina high on amphetamines. As if that were not enough, Tiant finally releases the ball anywhere from over his head to just above his knee. The motion is so wild that Comedian Don Rickles has incorporated it into his act. "I think I confuse the hitters," Tiant explains. "They can't tell where it's coming from."

He is so right. The latest team to swing at Tiant's pitches was the California Angels. Like nine blind mice, they managed to scratch out only four hits and no runs last week. That gave Tiant his 18th victory, practically assuring him of a second consecutive season as a 20-game winner, with a good shot at 25 victories by October. By no coincidence, at week's end the Red Sox had a firm hold on first place in the American League's Eastern Division.

Being one of the best pitchers in baseball is not bad for a man whose age is ofiicially listed as 33 but could be 36, 37 or whatever. His success is even more remarkable for a pitcher who was floundering in the minor leagues only three years ago. Excess weight and a cracked shoulder blade had apparently ended Tiant's career after several solid years in the majors, including one 21 -victory season with the Cleveland Indians.

Being signed by the Red Sox in 1971, he says, "was like coming back from the dead." He brought back with him a high-octane fastball-- still his best pitch--a good knuckler, curve and a blooper ball that floats by hypnotized batters. At the same time, he began refining the twists and twitches that he has now developed to a rubbery art. The gregarious Cuban also brought along an inexhaustible sense of humor, a special brand of English and an omnipresent cigar that he smokes, or chews, even in the shower. Red Sox teammates used to douse Tiant's glowing stogies in the whirlpool bath; currently, they are more respectful. "Now that Luis buys those expensive 8-inch Colombians," reports Outfielder Tommy Harper, "we can't dunk 'em like we used to."

Tiant now eases along on a salary of $75,000 a year. But it is not only money that keeps him going. His father, now a gas-station attendant in Havana, was a star pitcher for the New York Cubans in the old Negro Leagues. "Baseball is part of my life," says Tiant. "For us Latins, baseball is in the blood." After all, he adds, "I can't complain about this game. I have good life."

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