Denver Nuggets fans everywhere are saddened by the loss of legendary head coach Doug Moe last week. Doug’s legacy on and off the floor will never be forgotten. He might not have ended up as the winningest coach in Nuggets history, but he was most certainly the most notable. Everyone in professional basketball adored and admired Doug Moe.
Personally, my interactions with Doug were limited, but the best ones happened nowhere near a basketball court. Instead, I got to know Doug Moe, the baseball fanatic.
It was during Spring Training around 1990, and as a member of the Milwaukee Brewers at the time, I received a post-practice, locker room visit from the late, great Les Shapiro, then with Denver’s Channel 4. I wasn’t scheduled to participate in that particular spring contest, so Les invited me to join him in the stands for a bit after I’d showered and was ready to leave for the day.
Waiting for me in the stands near the third-base dugout were Les and Doug, whom I’d never met, but who treated me like a celebrity. As a Nuggets fan, I was obviously happy to sit down with Doug and hear some of the legendary stories I’d heard so much about. Instead, I started getting peppered with baseball questions from the Hall of Fame basketball coach.
It turned out that Les and Doug were making the rounds of the spring training locales in the Phoenix to gather intel for their upcoming fantasy baseball season. Doug had to know all about the Brewers and everyone else I’d seen play so far that spring. I got questions about the health of future Hall of Fame teammates Paul Molitor and Robin Yount, among others. I was the subject of a full-scale interview.
With Doug asking the questions, it was a really fascinating couple hours.
A few summers later, in 1995, after I’d been retired for a couple years, another Denver sports legend, the late, great Irv Brown, solicited me and several other retired sports and media figures to participate in an exhibition baseball game at newly christened Coors Field. We were to provide the opposition for the Coors Silver Bullets, a newly formed, all-female baseball team that was touring the country. Among many others, Irv convinced Doug to play as well. Looking back, I’m sure he didn’t have to do much arm twisting. Doug was well-known for his love of playing in the various adult men’s baseball leagues around town.
I was going to be the starting pitcher and Doug was going to play first base the next day when we gathered at Denver’s South High school for a “practice” session. I’m no hitting coach, but Doug’s approach at the plate was…suspect at best. He was lunging at the ball and lifting his back foot completely off the ground when he tried to make contact. I offered some advice, even though all I really knew about hitting was that it hadn’t looked all that tough from where I’d been standing on the pitchers mound.
Nonetheless, Doug tried what I told him, and was very pleased with the results. “You gotta come early tomorrow so we can hit in the cage,” he told me excitedly, in his famous Brooklyn accent. “This is great.”
I don’t remember exactly how much extra BP – if any – Doug got in before the game against the all-female squad, but I do remember that he got a hit, what should have been a triple down the line at Coors Field. He made it all the way to first base on his rickety old knees. By his reaction, it must have felt better than beating the Lakers, or venting in his own expletive-filled style at Nuggets players like Bill Hanzlik. Hollering or not, his players – and his baseball teammates – adored him. And we’re all going to miss him… a lot. It’s not just a loss for the basketball world. It’s a loss for the sports world.
