That's how former Atlanta Braves baseball star Dale Murphy sums up his stellar 18-year career. So what if he picked up two National League MVPs, belted 398 homers, snagged five Golden Gloves and was a seven-time All-Star. Big deal if he reigned as one of the game's most dominant players in the mid-1980s.
Forget about his legendary off-field goodness. How he signed autographs long after other ballplayers retreated to their lockers. About the Corvette he once bought but was too embarrassed to drive to church for fear of showing off. Or his post-baseball stints as an LDS mission president in Boston and in other high-profile church assignments.
"I look back on some of the years and say, 'Man, I could have done better,' '' Murphy says.
Indeed, no one is less impressed with Murphy than Murphy.
"He's almost too good to be true," former Brigham Young athletic director Glen Tuckett says about the 49-year-old former slugger who now lives with his family in Alpine. "He's the most humble and unaffected celebrity I've ever met."
"Murph" hasn't morphed from his all-American, nice-guy self since he hung up the cleats in '93. By all accounts, he's the same person about whom ex-Braves and now-Yankees skipper Joe Torre once gushed: "If you're a coach, you want him as a player. If you're a father, you want him as a son. If you're a woman, you want him as a husband. If you're a kid, you want him as a father."
Please, Murphy chuckles nervously. "I kind of cringe whenever I hear that. People often use that quote when they introduce me someplace and I'll say, 'Joe went a little over the top with that.' "
But he spends little time dwelling on the past. In fact, Murphy would rather glory in the accomplishments of his wife, Nancy, and their eight children, ages 11 to 24, than recount his glory days. He has moved on.
"You must have a foundation, some kind of understanding that you were lucky to be part of all that, but it's not you anymore," he says. "People are going to forget and stop patting you on the back and wanting you to wear their shoes and drive their cars."
That's part of Murphy's message in The Scouting Report, a primer he and Nancy - the "gifted writer" in the family - are penning for pro athletes. It highlights retirement and financial planning, picking an agent and being a role model, giving back to society and balancing family and career, among other topics.
"It's not like I have any great secrets," Murphy says. "This is like, 'Here's my experiences and I hope this helps you.' "
Murphy knows of what he writes about, particularly family. He coaches his 13-year-old son's baseball team and did the same for nearly all of his sons.
"His schedule is designed around his kids' activities," says longtime friend Walt Schwarz.
Aside from time with family and close friends, Murphy is a sought-after motivational speaker and attends occasional autograph signings.
Last year, Murphy even flirted with the idea of running for governor. Would he ever put his name on a ballot? "People talk to me about it occasionally and the question comes up," he says. "I don't know if I would ever say yes."
No matter what he does, his friends say, he never changes.
"What you see is exactly the way he is all the time, even at home," Nancy says. "His kindness isn't restricted to someone in high position or who can do something for him. He's kind to everyone he knows. He's a devoted dad. All the kids' friends know him as the dad who will do anything for them. He'll take a whole team of 14-year-olds to Colorado for four days and sleep on the floor. He's such a good sport."
Not one to be outdone, Steve Young, family friend and former BYU and NFL star, calls Murphy the "sweetest man he knows."
"If I have daughters," the football Hall of Famer wisecracks, "I want them to date Dale Murphy."
Enough already. No one is that good, for goodness' sake.
Well, Murphy can be forgetful. He loses keys, wallets, cell phones.
"One time . . . Nancy gave me his airline ticket because she was afraid he would lose it," Schwarz laughs.
He's been ribbed about his size-13 feet and his ample appetite.
Vance Law, BYU's baseball coach and a former big-leaguer, recalls a ball he hit to Murphy in center field. Law tossed the bat in disgust, figuring he had just flied out. But trotting to first base, he noticed Murphy appeared to have lost the ball in the lights. The ball landed 30 feet behind the outfielder and rolled to the stadium wall as Law rounded third and scored his only inside-the-park home run.
"Once I got back to the dugout, the bullpen phone rings," Law recalls. "I pick it up and it's one of our catchers. He says, 'That's the worst [case] I've ever seen of a Mormon helping a Mormon.' "
Tuckett dishes out the nearest thing to dirt on Dale. He recalls watching him change a baby's soiled diaper in the day and then bashing a homer that night.
"He's a dad and a loving husband," Tuckett says. "Then he goes to the stadium, and all of a sudden he turns into superman."
OK, Murphy was good but was he good enough for Cooperstown? Critics argue the star's stats fall short of Hall of Fame caliber. A bad knee and other nagging injuries caused his numbers to nose dive after he left Atlanta for Philadelphia and then Colorado. But supporters point out that Murphy was a long-ball star on a Braves team woefully short on talent. ESPN's Rob Dibble, says the slugger "played the game how it's supposed to be played - with class."
"The Hall should open its doors to Murphy on personality alone," he writes, "because he's first-class all the way."
Murphy gets the last word, another chance to state his case for Cooperstown. Modest to the end, though, he balks.
"It's a hard place to get into - and it should be. If it happens, it would be a great thing."
Editor's note: Tribune Assistant Sports Editor Jay Drew is an editor of Dale Murphy's forthcoming book.
meddington@sltrib.com
Murphy file
Height: 6-foot-5
Age: 49
Family: wife, Nancy; children: Chad, 24; Travis, 23; Shawn, 22; Tyson, 19; Taylor, 17; Jacob, 15, McKay, 13; and Madison, 11.
Hobbies: Baseball, golf, drawing, eating.
Home: Alpine


