MORE TO THE MAN ROSEBORO'S SKILLS OVERLOOKED.

Byline: STEVE DILBECK

There is much more, of course, but the image remains so striking. It's seared into the memory, wanted or not.

Johnny Roseboro standing at the plate in Candlestick, a 3-inch gash in his forehead. Blood streaming down his face. Juan Marichal holding the bat overhead, looking out of his mind. Sandy Koufax, rushing from the mound to grab the bat.

If you started on three World Series championship teams, were a four- time All-Star, won two Gold Gloves and spent 11 seasons catching one of the greatest rotations in baseball history, you deserve much more than being remembered for getting clubbed over the head.

But Roseboro spent much of his career getting overlooked. If he wasn't exactly unsung, they only hummed his tune. Too busy singing the deserved pitching praises of Koufax and Don Drysdale. Marveling at Maury Wills on the bases. Tommy Davis in the clutch.

These were the new Dodgers, the Los Angeles Dodgers, but in truth, the quiet Roseboro was the first. When the team moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles, it was trying to recover from the accident in the offseason that ended Roy Campanella's career.

The Dodgers played their first game at the Coliseum in 1958 with Carl Erskine on the mound against the Giants and almost 80,000 looking on. A young, nervous Roseboro started behind the plate.

Erskine, used to the easy return throws of Campy, was quickly taken back by the excited Roseboro.

``He shot that ball back to me and almost hit me in the face,'' Erskine said. ``After that happened two or three times, I called time. I motioned him out and we met about halfway between the mound and the plate. I looked at him and his eyes were real big.

``I said, 'John, the catcher is not supposed to throw harder than the pitcher.' ''

Roseboro grinned, felt sheepish. It was never his nature to try to steal the spotlight. He spoke so rarely, players affectionally called him ``Gabby.''

That first year, with Gabby emerging as their new catcher, the Dodgers finished a disappointing seventh.

``It was kind of a tough transition for some of the players known as 'The Boys of Summer' out of Brooklyn,'' Erskine said. ``Most of us had our best years behind us when we came to L.A. But John was one of the young, new bloods. He represented kind of a new era.''

The next season, recognizing they needed fresh support for their aging stars, they began to call up new players like Wills.

``When I joined the ballclub after 8 1/2 years in the minor leagues, they put me in a room with him when I joined the team in Milwaukee,'' Wills said. ``He taught me how not to grab my bag in the lobby and let the porter do it. He taught me how to order room service, which I had no clue.

``But what topped it off was when we came back to L.A. after the road trip at like 3 in the morning, and all the players' wives and sweethearts came to pick them up in their big fancy cars. I was standing on the curb with my suitcase and didn't know where I was going to go. Just lost.

``All of a sudden I saw a car back up. It was John Roseboro and his wife. He took me home with him. And he put me up and fed me in the morning and I've always loved him for that.''

Roseboro was a .249 lifetime hitter, not the kind of number that gets Hall of Fame attention. When he died Monday from multiple illnesses, the wire-service obits led not with what he accomplished behind the plate but how he had been battered at it by Marichal.

That's how it was for Roseboro. A man who did his job. Supported his teammates. Who caught Koufax, Drysdale, Johnny Podres, Claude Osteen and Don Sutton. The quiet member of those Dodgers teams that won with pitching and fundamentals and timely hitting. That won four National League pennants with him behind the plate.

``He was kind of in the background when it came to getting media acclaim only because people went home after the game maybe remembering my stolen bases or Koufax's strikeouts or Drysdale's tenacious pitching or Tommy Davis' hits,'' Wills said. ``That's only normal.

``But all the stuff we were able to accomplish would never have happened without Roseboro there as part of the machine.''

Erskine played only a little over two seasons with Roseboro, but the quiet catcher created such an impression that he called him last week from Indiana when he heard Roseboro's health was failing. Wills visited him in the hospital a few weeks ago.

``When I walked in, he was asleep and didn't look very well,'' Wills said. ``But when I whispered in his ear, he perked up, jumped up and started walking around. That lasted about 10 minutes, and all of a sudden he got weak again.

``Visited for about an hour and got Sandy Koufax on my cell phone. We all talked. It was a great moment. That's the last time I saw him.''

Roseboro was only 69 when he passed away Monday - quietly, no doubt.

It was three days shy of the 37th anniversary of Marichal splitting his head open. An indelible moment, just not one that deserves to be his defining one.

CAPTION(S):

2 photos, box

Photo:

(1) San Francisco Giants pitcher Juan Marichal (27) swings a bat at Dodgers catcher John Roseboro in the third inning on Aug. 22, 1965.

Robert H. Houston/Associated Press

(2) Dodgers catcher John Roseboro, right, celebrates with Sandy Koufax after the Dodgers won the 1963 World Series. Roseboro died on Monday at age 69.

Associated Press

Box:

A FINE CAREER