Lenny Randle, former Mets and Yankees infielder, dies at 75

Lenny Randle was primarily known for three things.

The first happened in 1974, in what had already been a tense game against Cleveland. Pitcher Milt Wilcox had thrown behind Randle, who decided to improvise his retaliation.

The bunt was a beauty, Wilcox fielded it, and Randle, then playing for the Texas Rangers, veered off the base paths to body-check him into oblivion. The benches cleared, the game went on, and six days later, when the Rangers traveled back to Cleveland, that bunt was considered one of the inciting factors that led to the infamous 10 Cent Beer Night riot at Cleveland Stadium. (The other inciting factor was … well … the 10-cent beer.)

Lenny Randle passed away last night. May he bunt so he can run over the pitcher for the rest of time. RIP pic.twitter.com/avGFUt1QUX

— BaseballHistoryNut (@nut_history) December 31, 2024

The next: During spring training in 1977, he infamously punched Rangers manager Frank Lucchesi after losing his starting job to rookie Bump Wills — an incident that led to Lucchesi’s hospitalization and Randle’s trade to the Mets.

And then there was May 1981. Randle, playing third base for the Seattle Mariners, saw that a slow roller hit by Al Cowens of the Royals that he hoped would roll foul was instead dying on the grass. But in case you haven’t noticed, Randle wasn’t the passive sort, nor did he take himself too seriously. So, he got on his hands and knees and blew on the ball until it rolled foul. (Alas, the umpires didn’t take to the antics, and the runner was ruled safe).

Lenny Randle may have left us yesterday but some of his career highlights will live on forever. Just like when he attempted to blow the ball past the foul line pic.twitter.com/8WL5K0NFMk

— BaseballHistoryNut (@nut_history) December 31, 2024

All these anecdotes paint a certain portrait of Randle, but they're incomplete.

The former Mets and Yankees infielder died Monday in Murrietta, California, at 75. Jay Horwitz, vice president of alumni relations for the Mets, confirmed Randle's death.

“He was the life of the party,” said Bobby Valentine, who played with Randle on the Mets in the 1977 and ’78 seasons. “He was a really good teammate. He cared about the other guys … He had kind of this little black mark on his resume [from the Lucchesi fight] but you would have never known it. He was always excited when he got to the ballpark, always smiling at the umpire. He had a little bit of a temper and you don’t want to be in the middle of the group when the fists started swinging because his were pretty potent, but he was a good teammate.”

He was, as all people are, nuanced. He spoke five languages, had a master’s in adapted physical education from Arizona State University, according to a profile in Rolling Stone, and became the first major league player to compete professionally in Italy, according to SABR, the Society for American Baseball Research. He even moved to the country for a while, bringing baseball to local youth groups, and learned to speak the language fluently. In the majors, he played for five teams over 12 seasons, slashing .257/.321/.335. In Italy, he won a batting title, hitting .477 with Nettuno in 1983.

“He did amazing things in Italy,” Valentine said. “He learned the language, he became kind of a folk hero and a coach in their baseball community, and he’ll be missed.”

Born in Long Beach, California, in 1949, Randle was a two-sport star at Centennial High School in Compton, playing baseball and football. Though drafted in 1967 by the St. Louis Cardinals, he chose to attend Arizona State, where he now is a member of the school’s hall of fame. The Washington Senators – the team that would later become the Rangers – selected Randle in the first round of the draft in 1970 and he made his major league debut in 1971.

After the Lucchesi scuffle, he was sent to a Mets team that finished 37 games out of first place in 1977. But the struggles didn’t change his personality, Valentine said.

“It was good that he didn’t take it too seriously – the fact that the fans didn’t show up and the ones that did were usually booing us,” Valentine said. “He went out and had a good time. I thought that him and I were kind of the goofballs of the group.”

He also seemed to have his hands in everything. There were those big three incidents, sure, but he was also at the plate at Shea Stadium when New York City was plunged into darkness during New York’s 1977 blackout. That, incidentally, was the same summer as the Son of Sam murders.

“I was on deck and that was a crazy night,” Valentine said. “He had levity the entire time.”

Randle’s perspective on being at the plate, in the dark, during a serial killer spree that had the entire city on edge? ““I thought it was my last day on Earth,” he told a TV reporter. “I thought God was calling.”

No, not yet. Instead, he conducted youth clinics in Italy into his 70s, ran a baseball academy in California, and he and his siblings started a non-profit that helps students apply for college scholarships, according to SABR.

“I don’t really think about [my life],” Randle said in an interview with Clubhouse Chatter. “I just do it. I live every day as if it was my last day on earth.”