Sports of The Times

Several years ago, when the Los Angeles Dodgers were in the midst of a National League pennant race. Maury Wills was talking with Wes Parker.

“If it meant the pennant,” Wills said at their adjoin ing lockers in Dodger Stadium. “would you trip a player to prevent the winning run?”

“No,” the first baseman said.

“Not even if it was a player who would trip you in the same situation.”

“No,” Wes Parker repeated.

Now that Wes Parker has retired from baseball at the age of 33 to pursue what he describes as a “more settled life,” many people are baffled by his decision, but Maury Wills isn't.

“Wes almost wasn't cut out for baseball,” Wills was on the telephone from his Los Angeles home. “He's not as crude as most of us in baseball. He's much more polished.”

Parker contends that he's not bitter at baseball, that he merely wants to “enjoy the whole spectnum” of life now.

“I love baseball,” the bachelor son of an industrial real‐estate executive said, “but I love other things, and I want to enjoy them while I'm young. Reading. Writing. I'm writing a book on how to play first base. I hope the publisher still wants it. Bridge. Movies. Concerts. Travel. Golf. I want to ski, I've never skied. I want to go out more, I enjoy dating. But there's no particular girl; that had no hearing on it. I just want a more balanced life. To me, major league baseball is a game for single men in the 20's. It's like being an airline stewardess, If you're in it too long, you're trapped. Baseball was fun for 10 years, but I had enough. I won't be making as much money as I was. I don't even have a job yet, but I'm not worried about that. The human values are more important.”

The Phone Call

But the retirement of Wes Parker also involves the absence of Maury Wills, unconditionally released at 40 last month.

“I'm not hitter at the Dodgers for releasing him,” Parker said, “hut I loved the guy, he was almost like father to tile. I was scared to death when I was a rookie but he gave me tips, clues, told me what to do with certain pitchers, what bases to throw to. I just couldn't look for ward to a season without him. And after I announced my retirement, he was the only Dodger player to call me up.”

As teammates, Parker and Wills often had discussed the human values that baseball prevented them from enjoying.

“We used to talk,” Wills recalled. “about how, from April to October with all our night games at Dodger Stadium, we hardly ever saw the sun set outside the ball park. And we'd talk about how nice it must be to go to the ?? on a ?? or a Wednesday but we never could. With night games, you go to bed late, you get up at noon, by you're on the way to the ball park and you haven't done anything with your life. We used to talk about how nice it must he to get up at 7 in the morning. before the air is polluted. I'm doing that now, and it's beautiful.”

With his guitar and his personality, Maury Wills is arranging a career for himself as an entertainer and actor.

“I've just about given up on the other thing,” he ex plained, meaning his ambition to be the first black major league manager. “It just looks like it's not going to happen. The two best candidates now are Frank Robinson and my self; I can't see anyone else. But if we're passed over, it'll be another 10 years before someone eIse comes along.”

When he was released, the Dodgers offered him a job as a minor league “instructor,” but ?? hirn when two vacancies developed on their coaching staff.

“Danny Otark left to manage the Phillies and Roy Hartsfield also left,” Wills said. “I did make it known that I was interested in being a Dodger coach but I never heard a thing. They promoted Monte Basgall and Tow LaSorda out of the farm system.”

Wills batted 129 last season, but he bad batted 281 the year before when Walter Alston, the Dodger manager, called him a “better shortstop” than at any other time in his career.

“I still think I can play,” Wills said. “I gut all to a bad start this year because of the strike, and I never gut going. I phoned a few clubs recently—Detroit, St. Louis, Oakland. Texas, California. Cincinnati—but they all told me the same thing, that they were going with their younger play ers. I won't make any more calls now, but I wanted to stay in for two reasons. One, I feel I can still play. Two to on the scene if a manager's job opens up.”

Not that Maury Wills would need a reference for a mamigor's ?? but Wes Parker could provide one.

Red Smith is on vocation