Mike Krukow says the worst part is falling down.
“There is nothing more humiliating than falling in front of people,” says the longtime Giants broadcaster. “The biggest, most stressful thing is thinking about being on the field and falling in front of 40,000 people.”
It seems unbelievable. The former pitcher spent 14 seasons in the big leagues, with stops at Chicago, Philadelphia and San Francisco. A strapping 6-5, 200-pound right-hander, he won 124 games, had a 20-win season in 1986 and pitched over 2,100 innings.
Now he says the slightest stumble can knock him off his feet.
Krukow, 62, has kept his condition a secret, but now he’s ready to reveal that he’s suffering from a degenerative muscle disease called inclusion-body myositis. IBM causes progressive weakness in the muscles of the wrist and fingers, the front of the thigh, and the muscles that lift the front of the foot. There’s no cure and no solid theory for what causes it.
When he got the diagnosis eight years ago, he says, the doctor gave him a medical version of good news/bad news.
“He said, ‘You’re going to need a cane and then you’re going to need a walker,’ ” Krukow recalls. ” ‘And eventually you may be that old dude riding around in a scooter.’ “
The good news?
“You have a muscle disease,” he said. “But it is not life-threatening.”
Still, it was a jolt.
“It pisses me off every day,” Krukow says.
How does a person – especially an athlete, used to depending on a strong body – respond to such news?
Krukow handled it the same way he used to deal with injuries – pretend it’s not a problem and hope it goes away.
“Being the strong, muscular athlete he was, this was very difficult to face,” says Jennifer Krukow, Mike’s wife. “I think he thought, if I just ignore it, it won’t get worse. But it has definitely gotten worse.”
In the past year, Krukow has begun to wear braces on his legs for support. He carries a walking stick for balance. That’s telling, longtime teammate and broadcast partner Duane Kuiper says, because the last thing Krukow wants is to call attention to the disease and become the object of public sympathy.
“You are talking about a guy who used to run the steps at every major-league ballpark,” Kuiper said. “Now he can’t even go up steps. Guys would ask what’s going on, and he’d say, ‘Oh, it’s my back. Or it’s my knees. I’m just an old pitcher.”
For the rest of the story visit the SF Chronicle where it was originally published