Playboy Interview: Mike Piazza

The best-hitting catcher in baseball history gets off on speed metal, Rolling Rock, belt-high fastballs and women with excellent breasts. He says he is not gay—you may have picked that up from the "excellent breasts" comment. But he mentions it because a tabloid paper made news with a rumor about his sexual orientation. In fact, Mike Piazza is the only ballplayer ever to hold a press conference to discuss his sexuality.

Piazza, 34, has hit 347 home runs in 10 big league seasons. His .321 career batting average, astounding for a slow right-handed hitter, beats those of Barry Bonds, Willie Mays, Derek Jeter and Pete Rose. His .362 average in 1997 is the highest ever by a catcher. Piazza could quit tomorrow and be a lock for the Hall of Fame. But the New York Mets star is nowhere near quitting. He says he's just hitting his stride.

Pretend you're Piazza for a night. You hammer a homer or two, then find your way to a club in Soho or Tribeca, with every sports fan in sight trying to buy you a beer and girls jostling to sit on your lap. If you weren't careful, your helmet size might swell a bit. But Piazza ? "Dude, I just laugh," he says. "I remember when nobody wanted me."

He was born in Norristown, Pennsylvania and in 1988 went to Florida's Miami-Dade Community College, where he was grabbed by the Los Angeles Dodgers. Well, not grabbed. Piazza was selected in the 62nd round of that year's draft of high school and college players, the 1390th player chosen. The slow junior college first baseman might not have been taken at all if it weren't for Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda, a family friend who persuaded the team to use a draft pick on the kid. Five years later, after converting to catcher, Piazza reached the bigs with a bang. Thirty-five bangs, 112 RBI and a .318 average made him Rookie of the Year. Waving one of the National League's biggest bats as if it were a swizzle stick, he has intimidated pitchers ever since.

A model of consistency good for about 35 homers and a .320 average every year, Piazza is also a magnet for controversy. In 2000 he was beaned by Yankees headhunter Roger Clemens, then had a bizarre face-off with him in the World Series. Tabloids and trash TV reported on his many romances, then turned around and questioned his sexuality.

We sent Kevin Cook to meet with Piazza in Florida as spring training began.

[Q] Playboy: You got a raise this season, from $9.5 million to $14.5 million.

[A] Piazza: A raise? It's really just the way my contract is structured. Some players' deals are front-loaded, some are back-loaded, some get their money deferred.

[Q] Playboy: You're loaded. You get a pay-check every two weeks for $618,557.85. Do you plan to buy something you've been holding off on?

[A] Piazza: Nah, I'm not extravagant. Some people get fanatic about cars, like the hip-hop guys—they've got six or seven rides with cool tires and rims. Cool houses, too. I'll admit that I have a sick fascination with Cribs on MTV.

[Q] Playboy: You have two Cribs in Florida—a house in Boynton Beach and a condo in Miami—plus an apartment in New York City.

[A] Piazza: But they're modest. So I might have Cribs inferiority. I bought a big house when I got traded to the Mets. It was in Alpine, New Jersey. Suburbia. I got a little bored sitting out there in 12,000 square feet. There were rooms I never went into.

[Q] Playboy: With your raise you could buy it back, put in some stripper poles and call Cribs.

[A] Piazza: No, I'll just watch. You know what amazes me on that show? The security systems that some guys have. I don't want to think about what they're filming with all those cameras.

[Q] Playboy: A little over a year ago, the big story in baseball was your sexuality: The tabloids said a Mets star was gay. People thought it was you, and you called a press conference to say it wasn't.

[A] Piazza: I didn't call that press conference. A newspaper writer came up to me and said, "Mike, it's none of our business, but are you gay?" I said no, but the story wouldn't go away. There was this weird buzz around the team, so the Mets called a press conference. I just went and told the truth: I'm not gay. And from now on, when I hear that Actor X is gay, I'll have a healthy doubt about it.

[Q] Playboy: So you won't gossip about Tom Cruise?

[A] Piazza: No. But maybe Cruise should stand up and talk about it. Maybe his gossip keeps going because he never addressed it.

[Q] Playboy: Has your experience made it easier or harder for gay players to come out?

[A] Piazza: Harder. They can't help seeing what a huge deal those rumors were. It's too bad, because it shouldn't be an issue.

[Q] Playboy: Do you have any gay friends?

[A] Piazza: Yes, and they were supportive. They were glad I was honest.

[Q] Playboy: Let's assume there's a gay ballplayer reading this. Should he come out?

[A] Piazza: That's his decision. But if some guy in our clubhouse is confident enough to come out, I'll support him. If he does his job on the field, I'll regard him as a regular guy.

[Q] Playboy: You've dated Darlene Bernaola, Playmate of the Millennium. What did she make of the gay rumors?

[A] Piazza: Darlene stood up for me. She said that we had a very healthy sex life. Wasn't that nice of her?

[Q] Playboy: Darlene isn't the only Centerfold you've gone clubbing with. What is it with you and Playmates?

[A] Piazza: People also ask rock stars why they date Playmates. I heard one of them say it's like the old joke about why a dog licks himself: "Because he can."

[Q] Playboy: Do you still have Darlene's initials tattooed on your ankle?

[A] Piazza: [Showing off his bare ankle] Not anymore. Now I've got this.

[Q] Playboy: It's a unicorn.

[A] Piazza: It's a stallion. With a horn. Isn't it cool?

[Q] Playboy: The Italian uni-stallion?

[A] Piazza: Darlene's initials are under it.

[Q] Playboy: Answer a stats question. What's your career sex-partner total?

[A] Piazza: Do I have to give a number?

[Q] Playboy: Well, since it's you, a ballpark figure will suffice.

[A] Piazza: More than five, fewer than 100. I'm not macho about having a lot of girlfriends at one time. There were years when I had three or four at a time, but I'm selective. I try to be faithful when I'm in a relationship. Of course there are the girls you know here and there who you don't have relationships with, but they're not just friends, either.

[Q] Playboy: Friends plus sex?

[A] Piazza: Right. Friends with benefits.

[Q] Playboy: Are you in a relationship now?

[A] Piazza: I am, and she is without a doubt the most beautiful girl I've ever dated. And you know what? The first part of my life was totally focused on baseball, but I've grown up a little. Living through September 11 in New York, that has to change you. I'm thinking the next chapter is settling down, starting a family.

[Q] Playboy: With your current girlfriend?

[A] Piazza: That's a tough question. Maybe. I hope so.

[Q] Playboy: Tell us a little about her.

[A] Piazza: Geez, I'm nervous now. Her name is Alicia Rickter.

[Q] Playboy: A Playmate! Miss October 1995.

[A] Piazza: And she's an actress. We met in LA last October. I don't want to spin it or jinx it by talking about her too much, but she is a great girl. She's got her career in LA, and I'm in New York, but we're having fun. Let's just see what happens.

[Q] Playboy: Most fans don't know it, but every spring a doctor goes around to major league teams, lecturing the players about safe sex.

[A] Piazza: It's not a scolding; it's informative. The FBI comes around, too, and tells us about drugs. That's how I first heard about ecstasy.

[A] Guys need to hear the sex stuff. Lenny Harris used to say, "When I was younger, you didn't worry about nothing. Now you gotta wrap that thing up." I'm not implying Lenny was promiscuous, just funny. "You go out tonight," he says, "something can jump into your system and kill your ass."

[Q] Playboy: How about you? Do you practice safe sex?

[A] Piazza: Absolutely.

[Q] Playboy: What's your favorite brand of condom?

[A] Piazza: God, I hope my mom doesn't read this. Trojans work for me. The ones in the blue package. Trojan large—they're fine. It's tricky, though, putting on a condom.

[Q] Playboy: Your hero Ted Williams called hitting a baseball the hardest task in sports. Is it tougher to put on a condom than it is to hit?

[A] Piazza: [Laughing] It definitely takes coordination.

[Q] Playboy: Do you have a favorite home run? In 1997 you hit one out of Dodger Stadium. It was only the second time that ever happened.

[A] Piazza: That was cool, but my favorite might be one in Philadelphia. I hit a fastball off Mike Williams and it just kept going. It went into a tunnel in the center-field seats, a couple of levels up. I'm glad I got that one, because Williams developed a nasty split-finger pitch. Now he's the Pirates' closer, and I don't think I've had a hit off him in three years.

[Q] Playboy: Do fastballs go the farthest?

[A] Piazza: Sometimes an off-speed pitch travels far because you hit it in front of you. And since I tend to swing down a little, I'll put backspin on the ball. Backspin makes a ball carry.

[Q] Playboy: Ted Williams had terrific vision. His eyesight was 20-10. What's yours?

[A] Piazza: Same. But for me, hitting is all feel. I never watch myself on tape. I just step into the box and let it flow. I try to slow everything down. I'll take my time, make the pitcher slow down.

[Q] Playboy: You're deliberate at the plate. Is that a message to the pitcher?

[A] Piazza: Not consciously. But if I project my confidence, it's OK if he sees it.

[Q] Playboy: You're a psych artist.

[A] Piazza: I'm not. I'm relaxed. But if the pitcher sees I'm in the mode, he might not feel so confident.

[Q] Playboy: What goes through your head when he throws a 95 mph fastball? Is it words? Images?

[A] Piazza: More like music. Last year there was a stretch when I was hot and I was hearing Led Zeppelin's No Quarter in my head. The stadium's full of noise, but all I could hear was Robert Plant going, "The dogs of doom are howling more!"

[Q] Playboy: You're an amateur drummer, a heavy metal fan.

[A] Piazza: I discovered it in high school. I went to hundreds of concerts: AC/DC, Van Halen, Iron Maiden, Metallica. At school I was this weird metalhead-jock. I had the jeans and boots and black concert T-shirts, but then I'd go to baseball practice. Maybe that's why I never got any chicks—the metal negated the jock. I didn't have sex until I got to college.

[Q] Playboy: So you were your high school's home run—hitting metalhead virgin?

[A] Piazza: Funny, huh? I didn't date much, didn't even go to the prom. Then in my freshman year of college, I finally had sex with a girl. It was alcohol-enhanced. We started drinking, and then boom.

[Q] Playboy: How did you perform?

[A] Piazza: OK, I guess, but—I was really nervous. I come from a pretty conservative Catholic family, and I'm proud of my faith. So I had a moral problem, the idea that what we were doing was wrong.

[Q] Playboy: So premarital sex is a sin?

[A] Piazza: Yes, of course it is.

[Q] Playboy: Do you still think that?

[A] Piazza: It's definitely not right. But on the same note, sex is a natural progression in a relationship. You meet a girl and fall in love and it happens. It's natural, but I was taught it's wrong.

[Q] Playboy: After you have sex with a girl, do you go to confession and tell a priest?

[A] Piazza: Yes, I do.

[Q] Playboy: You stick to your beliefs.

[A] Piazza: I struggle with this. I think an intimate relationship is better if you care about the girl. But as a man, you want to get physical.

[Q] Playboy: You must have had some one-night stands.

[A] Piazza: Yeah, and I admit I felt a little numb afterward.

[Q] Playboy: What's the penance for premarital sex?

[A] Piazza: It depends on the priest. There's been a lot of negative stuff about priests lately, but there are some cool, hip ones. I've got friends who are priests. If I confess to them, they'll say, "Hey, we teach that you should wait for marriage, but if you care for the girl, that matters, too." They might not condone it, but they understand it.

[Q] Playboy: Have you ever had sex and said, "That was worth 10 Our Fathers"?

[A] Piazza: Of course. There's always part of a man that's ready to launch into animal instinct.

[Q] Playboy: So we're all sinners?

[A] Piazza: Life is all about forks in the road. Too many of us look to others for direction. You need to follow your own heart, and if what you do isn't popular, do it anyway. But I'm not one to judge anybody. If you don't believe what I do, I might think you're missing something, but you choose your own road.

[Q] Playboy: Do you still go to Mass every Sunday?

[A] Piazza: I miss a few, but then I go to confession.

[Q] Playboy: In July 2000, the Yankees' Roger Clemens beaned you with a fastball. After you got out of the hospital you said you'd lost respect for him.

[A] Piazza: I felt he'd insulted me. Sure, I could have said, "It's part of the game," and getting hit is part of the game. It looms over every hitter. But there were variables with him. I had swung the bat well against him.

[Q] Playboy: In your 12 career at-bats against Clemens you were hitting .583.

[A] Piazza: And he is a tremendously precise pitcher. He knows where the ball is going. So he hit me and I called him on it. End of story, I thought.

[Q] Playboy: Then came the 2000 World Series, the Yankees—Mets Subway Series. Your first time up against Clemens was the most hyped at-bat of the year. You swung and broke your bat, and it bounced toward the mound. Clemens picked up the barrel of the bat and threw it at you.

[A] Piazza: Surreal. The ball went foul, but I didn't know that. I jog toward first and the bat goes whizzing by me. So I yell at him: "What's your problem?" I had to see if it was calculated. But he says no. He says, "I thought it was the ball." He was obviously jacked up. In essence, I think he kind of cracked.

[Q] Playboy: You were calmer.

[A] Piazza: I can't play all jacked up. I don't think that way and I could never hit that way. I would freakin' spin myself into the ground. Some people called me out and questioned my manhood—why didn't I go out and fight him? Like I need to prove my macho in a World Series game. If I had thought he was lying, I'm sure we would have fought. But he was all excited and he thought it was the ball. And what if I fight and get thrown out of the game? So I prove my manliness—does that help my team? No. I stayed in the game and hit a home run in the ninth inning. It's one of the proudest homers in my life, and it would not have happened if I had gone out and punched the pitcher. It's amusing to me—and typical—that in all the hype and coverage, my thinking about that was never discussed.

[Q] Playboy: You were thinking ahead.

[A] Piazza: As Russell would say, "That's just it, mate."

[Q] Playboy: Russell?

[A] Piazza: Russell Crowe. He's a cool dude, man. Met him backstage when I went to see his band, 30 Odd Foot of Grunts. Russell is obviously a great actor, and he's just a good dude.

[Q] Playboy: You must be the only person who hangs with both Russell Crowe and Fabio.

[A] Piazza: Fabio and I hung at a Super Bowl party. We both love hi-fi equipment. My brand is Krell: class-A amplification for people who demand the most out of music and movies at home. I get off on that. I have a killer home theater. Come over and watch Patton or Ben-Hur or Glory with me. You'll think you're in the movie.

[Q] Playboy: Some players call you Pizza Man. Do you have other nicknames?

[A] Piazza: Skull. Eric Davis and I were taking batting practice, trying to hit homers, and I said, "You gotta drop the skull on it." The head of the bat. So he started calling me Skull.

[Q] Playboy: There used to be a lot more clubhouse pranks—rookie hazing, hotfoots, putting Heet ointment in a guy's jock. Is baseball less fun than it was when you came up?

[A] Piazza: There is not as much hazing. There's so much player movement you may not know the other veterans, so you don't have the sort of cohesion you need to gang up on the rookies. But we do what we can. Last year we made the rookies dress up on a road trip to Montreal. One kid had to walk through the airport dressed as Superman. Jim Malone, our strength coach, is a 250-pound guy who looks like Goldberg—we dressed him up as a ballerina. A lot of people stared at him in shock, but the Customs agents had seen it before. They look at Superman and Jim the ballerina and they say, "Oh. Rookies."

[Q] Playboy: You were with the Dodgers when Chan Ho Park got hazed. He found his clothes cut to shreds and went ballistic. Park is from Korea. He didn't know about the tradition.

[A] Piazza: I think he knew. He just wasn't very accommodating. We were trying to get him to lighten up.

[Q] Playboy: Here's a heavy topic: switching to first base. Catching is brutal. Your knees ache, you had groin and thumb problems last year. You're not a great defensive catcher. Why not switch and prolong your career?

[A] Piazza: One day I'll switch, but not this year. Mo Vaughn's our first baseman.

[Q] Playboy: You were still with the Dodgers when the issue first came up. Did it enter your mind that Eric Karros, one of your best friends, was their first baseman?

[A] Piazza: Of course it did. But I also look at how I help the ball club, and that's by being a catcher who hits. OK, I don't throw runners out like Ivan Rodriguez, but who does? I hit more than some .220 hitter who bats eighth in the lineup, and I do my best on defense. Just don't compare me to Johnny Bench, because nobody compares to him.

[Q] Playboy: Are you saying Bench was better than you? He hit 389 home runs inhis 17-year career. You started this season with 347. His career batting average was .267. Yours is .321.

[A] Piazza: I'm not discounting myself. I help the team more than a guy who throws out 10 percent more runners and hits 10 homers.

[Q] Playboy: Bench had huge hands. He could hold seven baseballs in one hand. How many can you hold?

[A] Piazza: Probably two. He had meat-hooks, but I have small hands for a catcher. Small hands don't help.

[Q] Playboy: When you're catching, do you talk to the hitters?

[A] Piazza: Not much. I don't like guys talking to me when I hit, so I give them the same space. Funny things happen, though. There was one hitter—Tim Wallach, a good dude—who swung at a pitch and farted. From that day on he was known as Stinky.

[Q] Playboy: What goes on during mound conferences?

[A] Piazza: They're not clean.

[Q] Playboy: You and Mets pitcher Al Leiter are buddies——

[A] Piazza: One night I called time and went out to Al on the mound. We looked around at the guys on base and I did the Chevy Chase bit in Caddyshack: "You're not that good," I said. "You suck." When it comes to mound conferences I always think of John Roseboro, a great old Dodgers catcher who was one of my first catching coaches. "Sometimes, babe," he told me, "sometimes you gotta go out there and let the wind blow a little bit."

[Q] Playboy: Let the wind blow?

[A] Piazza: Make the next hitter wait. That's how you take away the other team's momentum. You let them wait and think. You stand out on the mound and let the wind blow.

[Q] Playboy: Pretty Zen.

[A] Piazza: One time Mark Cresse, another catching coach, was teaching technique—footwork, weight shift, getting the ball from the mitt to your throwing hand, making an accurate throw to second. Johnny Roseboro is standing on the baseline, smoking a cigarette, and he says, "Babe, here's my catching lesson: There's 50,000 people in the stands—don't let them see you throw it into center field."

[Q] Playboy: You used to catch Tom Candiotti's knuckleball.

[A] Piazza: That's a catcher's nightmare. But we had our moments. One night we had a big lead. Candiotti wants to have some fun, so he decides to throw nothing but fastballs. His slow fastballs. So we try it, and the hitters are puzzled. We get a couple of outs, but then they figure it out and they're just teeing off, hitting rockets all over the lot. Candiotti calls me out. We kick a little dirt around and let the wind blow. He says, "Forget plan B."

[Q] Playboy: Didn't you hit Candiotti with a throw to second base?

[A] Piazza: My rookie year. We're ahead 10 to 3 and Ozzie Smith was trying to steal second.

[Q] Playboy: That's bad form.

[A] Piazza: The pitch was down and away. I should have just eaten the ball, but it's annoying that Ozzie is stealing, so I throw off-balance and hit Candiotti in the butt. The next day our pitchers all showed up with targets taped to their back pockets.

[Q] Playboy: Catching is dangerous. You've got base runners crashing into you, foul tips off your meat hand.

[A] Piazza: My right index finger is crooked. It's probably broken, but I just tape it up. A nicked hand is better than getting hit in the head with a bat. Gary Sheffield followed through on a swing and hit me with his bat, cut my head wide open.

[Q] Playboy: In the course of a season, how many days are you pain free?

[A] Piazza: First day of spring training. After that, you're never pain free.

[Q] Playboy: How does a hot streak feel?

[A] Piazza: You're so dialed in you can feel the power in your hands. It's musical. Sexual. But it's not bump and grind—it's more karmic, like walking on the beach with a girl.

[Q] Playboy: Music and sunsets? But hitting is violent.

[A] Piazza: Only when you swing. Then it's four one-hundredths of a second of controlled violence. That's when I'm trying to hit the ball so hard it takes the third baseman's dick off.

[Q] Playboy: What's your worst moment on the field?

[A] Piazza: My rookie year, in a tie game with a guy on third, I called time out and went to the mound. But players can't call time, the umpire has to do it, and the ump didn't give me time. Runner comes home, we lose. After the game I grabbed a pack of cigarettes from somebody's locker and started chain-smoking.

[Q] Playboy: You were a smoker?

[A] Piazza: No, I was just punishing myself. Smoking five or six cigarettes in a row, saying, "Man, I fucked up."

[Q] Playboy: Who was the pitcher?

[A] Piazza: Orel Hershiser. He knew that I had made an honest mistake, but he was bummed out. I didn't expect him to say, "Here, have a Lifesaver, kid."

[Q] Playboy: Name a hitter you admire.

[A] Piazza: Barry Bonds. He's such an enigma. If I could be another ballplayer for a day, I would want to be him. He just brims with confidence, and there's nothing he can't do on the field. At an age when a lot of ballplayers are slowing down, he elevated his physical presence and got better. He's one of the top three or four players of all time.

[Q] Playboy: Doesn't it annoy you when he hits a home run and stands there admiring it?

[A] Piazza: Bonds is exempt. But when a rookie stands and looks, it really gets under my skin.

[Q] Playboy: Some people claim that Bonds is on steroids.

[A] Piazza: That's a broad brush. In the past couple of years a few guys have done amazing things, and because everybody lifts weights, people say it's steroids. But hitting isn't just strength. If it were, you would have Mr. Olympia contestants coming off the stage and hitting homers.

[Q] Playboy: A lot of hitters look like Mr. Olympia contestants.

[A] Piazza: And a lot of pitchers aren't doing the job. Some of diem give up on getting guys out. They're thinking, I don't care if I make a good pitch—if the guy's on steroids, he'll hit it out of the park.

[Q] Playboy: You're blaming the pitchers?

[A] Piazza: I am not denying that some guys use steroids. But when you see a lot of home runs, it's not just steroids. It's the way the game is changing. There's so much emphasis on power. Guys are working out and getting strong, and homers are bound to go up. You've got leadoff hitters who aren't ashamed to strike out 100 times a year, because hitters get paid for homers and RBI, nothing else. "Oh, I struck out 100 times and hit .250, but I hit 30 homers. That's good for $6 million or $7 million a year." Nobody cares if you get the runner from second to third with no outs.

[Q] Playboy: Baseball now has a steroid-testing plan. It's more of a survey, really. The players union says it wants to see if there's a problem before any serious testing starts.

[A] Piazza: It's a first step. But once you open that door, where does it end? Some guys drink a pot of coffee before a game. Is that performance-enhancing? Guys have used greenies—amphetamines. It's amazing how selective enforcement can be. Painkillers don't carry the same sort of stigma, but they can be abused. Teams are worried about steroids, but they'll load up a pitcher with an anti-inflammatory so he can pitch.

[Q] Playboy: What do you take?

[A] Piazza: Vitamins. Ripped Fuel is kind of cool. I've used creatine, but I'd rather eat a good dinner. From what I've read, there's more creatine in eight ounces of salmon than two tablespoons of powder.

[Q] Playboy: One drug that's caused trouble is GHB. You had a friend who died, supposedly from abusing it. GHB has been used as a nutritional supplement, but it's also a date-rape drug.

[A] Piazza: Everyone's always looking for a new kick. People were doing a lot of GHB a few years ago. They could slip it into your drink and you wouldn't know.

[Q] Playboy: And then you would wake up without your wallet.

[A] Piazza: I'm careful when I go out. If somebody hands me an open beer, I say thanks and go get my own. I've had guys say, "What, my beer's not good enough for you?" I say, "If you want to buy me a beer, let me see the guy open the bottle." It's not an insult, it's just being smart.

[Q] Playboy: For a club-hopping superstar, you're low-key.

[A] Piazza: I don't have a posse and I never try to pull rank. I don't try to get a table by saying, "Do you know who I am?" Of course, that doesn't stop me from sitting there looking like a puppy dog, like, "Perhaps you might know who I am."

[Q] Playboy: You're one of the game's top power guys, but you've never struck out 100 times. Is there anything you hate more than striking out?

[A] Piazza: Getting hit in the nuts. One time I took one on the cup and my left testicle turned purple. And people laugh! It pisses me off when that happens and guys laugh. That's when I really wanted to grab somebody, because it's not funny.

[Q] Playboy: Let's go back to your boyhood. How did you learn to hit?

[A] Piazza: When I was 11 my dad built me a batting cage with a pitching machine. I would hit every day after school. In the winter I'd warm up the baseballs on a wood-burning stove—you had to heat them or they felt like cueballs—and put pipe insulation around the handles of my bats. I'd hit for hours after school. It became an addiction. I dreamed about the major leagues, but it was really more about Little League. The more I hit, the better I did in Little League. By the time I was 13, I'd made the all-star team. In 10th grade I got cut from varsity but made JV. I was 16 the day Ted Williams came over. He was doing an autograph show in Valley Forge and had a couple of hours to kill. So this scout, a friend of my dad's, brought him by to see me hit.

[Q] Playboy: Did Williams give you advice?

[A] Piazza: He told me, "Don't let anybody change your swing." And then, walking out of the cage, he said that hitting the ball is only half the battle. He taps his head and says, "The other half's in here. It's working the count, thinking ahead, reacting to the pitcher's deception." He told me to read his book. So I run upstairs to get my copy of The Science of Hitting. He signed it for me: "To Mike. Follow this book. As good as you look now, I'll be asking you for tickets in 1988." So he undershot by five years.

[Q] Playboy: Your father was close friends with Tommy Lasorda, the longtime Dodgers manager.

[A] Piazza: My dad knew lots of people. He was a car salesman and a driven man. He's almost 70 now and still works on his farm. He's got 80 acres in Valley Forge (continued on page 150)Mike Piazza(continued from page 62) and about 15 head of buffalo.

[Q] Playboy: How do you raise buffalo?

[A] Piazza: Stay out of their way and let them graze.

[Q] Playboy: Vince Piazza is a self-made millionaire, but his father—your grandfather—was a welder, an immigrant from Sicily. Ten years ago, baseball held your dad's heritage against him when he was part of a group that tried to buy the Giants. The owners rejected him. They said he had a "background" problem, which was code for a Mafia problem.

[A] Piazza: That's the stereotype, isn't it?

[Q] Playboy: Major league baseball ended up paying your father a multimillion-dollar settlement.

[A] Piazza: It was bizarre, but my dad was vindicated.

[Q] Playboy: In 1988, as a favor to your father's buddy Lasorda, the Dodgers drafted you in the 62nd round. You were the 1390th pick. How could several hundred scouts think you sucked?

[A] Piazza: I was slow. I played some bad high school games when the scouts camearound. I'd hurt my hand, and maybe I was pressing. When the Dodgers drafted me, it was a courtesy pick, a favor to Tommy. Even then I had to change positions. They figured I'd never make it as a first baseman, because first basemen are good hitters. So Tommy said, "Would you draft him if he was a catcher?" They said yes. He said, "OK, he's a catcher." I worked my butt off learning to catch. For months I was like a Labrador retriever, running back to the backstop after every pitch. I went to the Dodgers' training complex in the Dominican Republic, where I could catch every day. This place was 45 minutes from Santo Domingo, out in the jungle.

[Q] Playboy: And not the Jim Rome jungle.

[A] Piazza: It was the jungle. There were tarantulas in the complex. They never bit me, but you don't want to wake up with one. I was 19, the only player who spoke English. We drank sugarcane juice, which is brown and tastes like extra-sweet iced tea. Breakfast was poached eggs, bread and a little ham. To the Dominican kids, it was a feast.

[Q] Playboy: Some of them start out with cardboard gloves.

[A] Piazza: I caught one kid who was 14 or 15, really small, but he could bring it. I said, "How the hell can this little guy throw so hard?" It was Pedro Martinez. But I didn't last long down there. I got sick from the food and lost 25 pounds.

[Q] Playboy: You had to fight for playing time in the minors. Some of your teammates and managers thought you were Lasorda's pet.

[A] Piazza: I was frustrated and hurt and I quit. Left the team. But after a couple of days I went back, and one day we had an intrasquad game in the same complex with minor league teams from the Mets and Orioles. I got hit with a pitch and complained, so this other catcher, a guy I didn't get along with, says, "Stop being fussy and hit." I said, "Fuck you." Unfortunately, another guy—a big guy—thought I said "fuck you" to him. He charges me. I tackle him. We're rumbling around and we're all fighting. The other teams look at us and say, "What the hell is wrong with the Dodgers?"

[Q] Playboy: Is Lasorda the most profane man in the world?

[A] Piazza: Never with women around. And Tommy can be so funny. One year we were struggling and he gave us a speech. "If you don't like me because I want you to win for this organization and for yourselves," he says, "and if you don't like me because I want you to concentrate on the field and do your best, and if you don't like me because I tell you to stop running around all night, then fuck you! I don't like you either!" We all busted out laughing at that.

[Q] Playboy: Can you cuss at an umpire without getting tossed?

[A] Piazza: Yes, if you don't turn around and face him. You can't show your displeasure to the fans. And you can't make it personal, either. You can look out at the mound and tell the umpire, "That was a shitty call," but you can't say, "You're shitty."

[Q] Playboy: Does it bother you that New York is the Yankees' town and the Mets just play there?

[A] Piazza: Maybe a little bit. You might roll your eyes a little because we all know they're great and they know they're great, but what can you do? I remember when a friend of mine sold Russell Crowe a car—that's how I met Russell. My friend says, "You've got to meet my man Mike Piazza." So what does Russell say—this guy from Australia? He says, "I'm more of a Yankees fan."

[Q] Playboy: When you signed with the Dodgers as a courtesy pick, what was your signing bonus?

[A] Piazza: I got $15,000, which is pretty good for a guy they didn't really want.

[Q] Playboy: How did you spend it?

[A] Piazza: I've still got my bonus. I save my money, man.

[Q] Playboy: Now that you're worth $14 million a year, what are you driving?

[A] Piazza: BMW 745.

[Q] Playboy: Do you drive fast?

[A] Piazza: No, and a lot of witnesses will attest to that. My friends all say I drive like a senior citizen.

[Q] Playboy: They want you to speed up?

[A] Piazza: But I won't. I'm a cautious driver. I haven't won a World Series yet.

[Q] Playboy: You got a star perk when you played drums onstage with Motörhead and Anthrax.

[A] Piazza: I don't remember much about those nights.

[Q] Playboy: Do Anthrax groupies actually have anthrax?

[A] Piazza: I wasn't with them enough to qualify for groupie treatment. But there were a couple of baseball groupies who flashed me one night. I was driving out of the players' parking lot at Dodger Stadium, surrounded by fans, and two girls pulled up their shirts. I'm thinking I should stop and get their phone numbers, but if I stop a thousand kids will converge on the car.

[Q] Playboy: Note to Piazza flashers: Write your number on your chest.

[A] Piazza: Or they could pass it to me like a baton.

[Q] Playboy: Are you still a metalhead?

[A] Piazza: I love Guns n' Roses. And Slayer—I've seen them 10 times. You know Zakk Wylde, the guitarist? I'm his kid's godfather. Zakk plays for Ozzy Osbourne and I sang on his last album.

[Q] Playboy: You sang?

[A] Piazza: One word. I sang "Yeah."

[Q] Playboy: From the metallic to the sublime: Last winter you had an audience with the Pope.

[A] Piazza: That was humbling. He's very frail. I mean, he's 80. But he has an aura. I took him one of my Mets jerseys but didn't know if I should give it to him. Is that proper? But there was a gentleman next to me who said, "That's your hammer. Be proud of your craft. Give it to him." So I was proud and euphoric and I gave the Pope my jersey. He put his hands on my head.

[Q] Playboy: What did he say?

[A] Piazza: I know only a few words of Italian, but there was an American cardinal there to introduce me. The cardinal said, "This is Mike Piazza. He is a baseball player in the United States." I knelt down and kissed the Pope's ring and the Pope said, "God bless Michael Piazza, the baseball player."

[Q] Playboy: That must be a memorable moment for a good Catholic boy. You bet. I sure like that last part. "Michael Piazza, the baseball player."

If some guy is confident enough to come out, I'll support him. I'll regard him as a regular guy.

Mike Piazza's Greatest Hits

A superstar's decade in the big leagues proves there's danger, revenge and plenty of crying in baseball

Game: Dodgers vs. Cubs, 9/1/92

The Shot: With his dad in the stands, Piazza doubles in his major league debut. He adds two singles and a walk and finishes his first day as a big leaguer with a batting average of 1.000.

The Upshot: The following spring, Mike beats out Dodgers catcher Mike Scioscia (now the Angels' manager) and goes on to hit .318 with 35 homers. The 1993 Rookie of the Year signs a then-huge three-year, $4.2 million contract.

Game: Dodgers vs. Rockies, 9/21/97

The Shot: In the third inning at Dodger Stadium, Piazza launches a moonshot off Frank Castillo. His 478-foot homer lands in the parking lot, making him only the second player to hit one all the way out of the Dodgers' home park.

The Upshot: The next day's Los Angeles Times reads Piazza's Homer Dents some Cars. His .362, 40-homer, 124 RBI season is the best ever for a catcher.

Game: Mets vs. Yankees, 7/8/00

The Shot: A rising Roger Clemens fastball beans Piazza, who drops like he's been fired upon and goes to the hospital with a concussion. Infamous headhunter Clemens shows no remorse.

The Upshot: At a press conference, Piazza says that he no longer respects Clemens, while Mets manager Bobby Valentine pines for revenge. "I hope someday he'll pitch in the National League, so we can pitch to him."

Game: Mets vs. Yankees, 10/22/00

The Shot: Facing Clemens in game two of the World Series, Piazza swings and breaks his bat. The barrel spins toward Clemens, who grabs the bat and hurls it at Mike. Knowing a fight might get him ejected, Piazza keeps cool, stays in the game and clubs a ninth-inning homer.

The Upshot: Roger sticks it to Mike and Mets says New York's Daily News. The Mets lose the game and the Series but win over a few million fans.

Game: Mets vs. Braves, 9/21/01

The Shot: The first pro sporting event in post-9/11 New York comes down to one at-bat: Piazza's two-run homer off Steve Karsay gives the Mets a 3—2 win.

The Upshot: Pitcher Karsay kicks himself for walking the previous hitter: "You don't put a guy on base in front of Piazza." In the Mets clubhouse, Lenny Harris watches cheering fans in Shea Stadium and says, "Whoever thought this raggedy old place could look so good?"

I knelt down and kissed the Pope's ring and the Pope said, "God bless Michael Piazza, the baseball player."

Hear exclusive audio of this interview at Playboy.com.