The Nuclear Bomber

Harmon Clayton Killebrew, 28, is 6 ft. tall, weighs a meaty 213 lbs., and keeps very quiet about the whole thing. He won the American League home-run crown with 48 in 1962, did it again last year with 45. But that was nothing. The righthanded slugger already has 39 this summer, is swinging at a pace that could set a new major league record.

Which record depends. Ever since Commissioner Ford Frick accepted both the home-run marks of Babe Ruth (60 in 154 games) and Roger Maris (61 in 162 games), statistics-crazed fans have been in a quandary. Nobody knows whose pace to follow. Result: the once-consuming pastime of charting the progress of the current slugger has declined. Now Killebrew may settle it once and for all by knocking both records out of the park. At the end of last week he was 7 games ahead of Ruth's pace, and within striking distance of Maris. Killebrew this year is averaging one homer every 9.9 times at bat, compared with Ruth's lifetime average of 11.8. He is leading the slugging Minnesota Twins, who have lofted 177 homers in 111 games, on a pace that will almost surely make them the home-run-hittingest team in the history of baseball.*

Free Swinger. A house painter's son from Payette, Idaho, Killebrew signed for $30,000 in 1954, was the first bonus baby in his club's history (the Twins were then the Washington Senators). For five years a combination of unsteady fielding and a zest for bad pitches ("I'm a free swinger") kept him on the bench or in the minors for all but 113 major league games, where a .224 batting average did little to encourage a promotion. But in 1959 the Senators posted a vacancy notice at third base, and Killebrew somehow beat out nine rivals for the job. His batting average did not improve much (.242) and his fielding got worse (he led the league in errors), but he also whacked 42 home runs. This tied him with Rocky Colavito for the league home-run title. It also guaranteed him a job. Killebrew has even become an asset on defense. Having wandered to and from every position in the infield, he has finally found a home in leftfield. It is just right for his medium speed, average agility, good hands and reasonable right arm.

Killebrew is so quiet that sportswriters have given up trying to jazz up his image with nicknames like "Killer" or "Hammering Harm." His private life is equally taciturn. At its most dramatic, it would include such events as the day he moved his wife and two children from their home in Payette across the border to Ontario, Ore. The towns are six miles apart.

Just Hitting. A successful knee operation last winter indicated that Killebrew was ready for the best season of his life this year. Instead, he lapsed into an inexplicable spring slump, on May 9 took his .167 average and sat down on the bench. Four days later, Manager Sam Mele put a rested Killebrew back on the field. Zot! Bam! Phoom! In 16 games, Killebrew walloped ten home runs and added almost 100 points to his batting average. His team is still deep in fifth place, but his average is at a peak .300.

Everyone has an explanation. Some say it is because Killebrew no longer lunges as he swings, thus lifting his head and losing sight of the ball. Manager Mele says, Killebrew has finally learned to wait and just try to meet outside pitches rather than trying to pull them. The only person without a theory is Honest Harmon. "I'm not swinging any differently, using new bats or doing anything I wasn't doing when I was in the slump," he says. "I'm just hitting."

* The Twins have 51 games to break the New York Yankees' major league mark of 240.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.