John Rocker, a name synonymous with both pitching prowess and explosive controversy, burst onto the baseball scene with the Atlanta Braves, captivating fans with his blistering fastball and equally fiery personality. However, it was his off-the-field remarks, as much as his on-field performance, that cemented his place in baseball lore, making him a figure of intense debate and scrutiny. This is the story of John Rocker, the man who became a lightning rod in America’s pastime.
Rocker’s journey wasn’t always smooth sailing. Even a simple minivan on an Atlanta highway could ignite his notorious temper. Driving his Chevy Tahoe, frustration boiled over at a slow-moving minivan. “Stupid bitch! Learn to f—ing drive!” he erupted, a glimpse into the impatience that seemed to simmer beneath the surface. A toll booth encounter further fueled his ire. Fifty cents turned into a battle with malfunctioning machinery, culminating in a barrage of expletives and a defiant spit at the toll machine – a minor incident, yet illustrative of his explosive reactions to everyday annoyances. “Hate this damn toll,” he muttered, encapsulating a broader impatience with anything that inconvenienced him.
Even engagements that might seem routine for a public figure were met with Rocker’s characteristic lack of enthusiasm. En route to speak at Lockhart Academy, a school for learning-disabled children, when asked if he enjoyed speaking to children, his blunt reply was, “No, not really.” Traffic, however, was a different beast altogether, claiming the top spot on his list of dislikes. “I have no patience,” he confessed, the speedometer creeping to 72 mph. Behind blue-tinted sunglasses and a backward baseball cap, he seethed at fellow drivers. “So many dumb asses don’t know how to drive in this town,” he fumed, as Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind” played ironically on the radio. A beige Toyota triggered another outburst. “Look! Look at this idiot! I guarantee you she’s a Japanese woman.” The driver turned out to be white, prompting a further generalization: “How bad are Asian women at driving?” These unfiltered thoughts, uttered without hesitation, foreshadowed the larger storm brewing around John Rocker.
The true tempest erupted in the aftermath of the 1999 National League Championship Series. Game 3 at Shea Stadium became the epicenter of a media firestorm that would engulf John Rocker. Called in by Atlanta Braves manager Bobby Cox to close out a 1-0 lead against the rival New York Mets, Rocker, a formidable presence at 6’4″ and 225 pounds, possessed a 95-mph fastball and a devastating slider. As the bullpen gate swung open, a wave of boos washed over him, escalating with each stride towards the mound. “A–hole! A–hole! A–hole!” The chant reverberated through the stadium, uniting 55,911 fans – a diverse crowd, unified in their animosity towards John Rocker.
John Rocker, pictured with Braves pitching coach Lee Mazzone, faces the animosity of Mets fans, a central theme of the controversy surrounding him.
The animosity hurled at John Rocker wasn’t confined to the stadium stands. Online forums became battlegrounds, with Mets fans expressing their outrage in no uncertain terms. “You are a disgrace to the game of baseball,” wrote “Metsfan4Life” on www.rockersucks.com, a website that became a digital hub for anti-Rocker sentiment. “Maybe you should think before you shoot off your big fat mouth. You are an immature punk who is lucky to be in the majors. Get some class!” Another poster, “Ed,” escalated the vitriol: “You are a low-class, ignorant piece of scum who doesn’t care about anything or anybody. You are the Neanderthal. Maybe this upcoming season Mike Piazza or any other Mets player will hit you in the head with a line drive.” These online attacks were a reflection of the raw emotions Rocker’s persona and actions had ignited.
John Rocker’s opinions were, to put it mildly, controversial. Unfiltered and unapologetically politically incorrect, he seemed to relish expressing views that often crossed the line of acceptable public discourse. His infamous comments about New York City and its diverse populace became the centerpiece of the controversy. When asked about the prospect of playing for a New York team, Rocker didn’t mince words: “I would retire first. It’s the most hectic, nerve-racking city.” He painted a vivid, and deeply offensive, picture of the city’s subway system: “Imagine having to take the [Number] 7 train to the ballpark, looking like you’re [riding through] Beirut next to some kid with purple hair next to some queer with AIDS right next to some dude who just got out of jail for the fourth time right next to some 20-year-old mom with four kids. It’s depressing.”
His disdain extended beyond the subway to the city itself and its international character. “The biggest thing I don’t like about New York are the foreigners,” Rocker stated. “I’m not a very big fan of foreigners. You can walk an entire block in Times Square and not hear anybody speaking English. Asians and Koreans and Vietnamese and Indians and Russians and Spanish people and everything up there. How the hell did they get in this country?” These comments, laden with xenophobia and prejudice, sparked widespread condemnation and transformed Rocker from a baseball player into a national symbol of intolerance for many.
While his generalized disdain encompassed various groups, John Rocker reserved a special level of animosity for Mets fans. The rivalry between the Braves and Mets was already intense, but Rocker’s inflammatory remarks escalated it to a personal feud. Even after the Braves defeated the Mets in the NLCS, advancing to the World Series (where they were ultimately swept by the New York Yankees), Rocker’s bitterness towards Mets fans remained palpable. Attempts to steer conversations towards neutral topics like hunting, women, or family invariably circled back to the hostile atmosphere of Shea Stadium during those playoff games. Bottles hurled, beer dumped on his girlfriend, and a barrage of crude insults – these were the memories that seemed to fester in Rocker’s mind.
John Rocker embodied a certain strain of American discontent, a willingness to “bitch and moan and shred things,” as the original article described it. His deep, intimidating voice and perpetually scowling demeanor seemed perfectly suited to expressing negativity. When asked about the upcoming 2000 season, his focus remained fixated on the Mets. “Heeeere’s Johnny…,” the article quipped, invoking a menacing tone to preface more controversial statements.
His criticisms extended to Mets manager Bobby Valentine. “The guy is not professional,” Rocker declared, referencing an incident where Valentine was ejected from a game and returned to the dugout in disguise. “Could you see [Yankees manager] Joe Torre or Bobby Cox getting thrown out of a game and then putting on a Groucho Marx disguise and sneaking back into the dugout? If a player got kicked out of a game and did that, Joe Torre would probably suspend him for a week. Bobby Cox would probably demand that the player be traded and tell him not to come back to the team. The Mets’ manager did it! That, and his college rah-rah s—? I don’t like it.”
Rocker doubled down on his condemnation of Mets fans, painting them as uniquely vile. “Nowhere else in the country do people spit at you, throw bottles at you, throw quarters at you, throw batteries at you and say, ‘Hey, I did your mother last night–she’s a whore.'” He seemed to take a perverse pride in provoking their ire. “I talked about what degenerates they were, and they proved me right. Just by saying something, I could make them mad enough to go home and slap their moms.”
Game 4 of the NLCS became a focal point of Rocker’s grievances. The fans were particularly hostile, the night was cold, and the Braves were on the cusp of reaching the World Series. Rocker entered in the eighth inning to protect a 2-1 lead. With runners on first and second and two outs, John Olerud, a Mets first baseman with a history of struggling against Rocker, hit a ground ball up the middle. Ozzie Guillen, Atlanta’s reserve shortstop who had just entered the game, misplayed the ball, allowing two runs to score and the Mets to win. Rocker dismissed Olerud’s hit as “one of the more cheaper hits I’ve given up my entire life.” He further deflected blame onto Guillen: “If Walt is playing shortstop instead of Ozzie, that’s not a hit, and we win. But we had a 38-year-old guy [actually 35] playing shortstop, and he can’t make that kind of play.”
Throughout the series at Shea Stadium, John Rocker amplified the drama. He spat at fans, flashed obscene gestures, and engaged in provocative antics during batting practice. He recounted an incident where he deliberately threw a ball at a protective net separating fans from the field, boasting, “If there wasn’t a net there, it would have smoked ’em right in the face. But they’re so stupid, they jumped back like the ball would hit ’em.”
Despite the escalating controversy, Braves manager Bobby Cox publicly stated that he had spoken to Rocker about toning down his behavior. However, Rocker refuted this claim: “That never happened. Bobby never talked to me about it, and I never talked to him. Why would he? We were winning.”
John Rocker during one of his off-season hunting trips in Macon, Georgia, highlighting his passions outside of baseball.
The online vitriol continued, often descending into personal attacks. “You are the most hideous man I have ever laid eyes on,” wrote “Michelle” on rockersucks.com. “Hope your baseball career is short…just like your intelligence.” Rocker himself seemed to acknowledge a perceived lack of intellectual depth. While his father asserted he graduated high school with a 3.5 GPA, Rocker’s behavior sometimes made it “hard to argue” against the notion of limited intelligence, as the article suggested. He reportedly referred to a black teammate as “a fat monkey.” Asked about Latrell Sprewell, the NBA player infamous for choking his coach, Rocker responded with disgust: “That guy should’ve been arrested, and instead he’s playing basketball. Why do you think that is? Do you think if he was Keith Van Horn–if he was white–they’d let him back? No way.” These incidents further fueled accusations of racism and prejudice. “I’m not a racist or prejudiced person,” Rocker claimed, “But certain people bother me.”
Sports were always central to John Rocker’s life. Beyond baseball, he was passionate about football, basketball, and outdoor pursuits like hunting and fishing. Baseball, however, was his primary focus. By his senior year of high school, he was throwing at 91 mph, attracting attention from scouts. The Braves drafted him in the 18th round of the 1993 amateur draft. Described as a hard-throwing but wild starter, he also displayed nervous and eccentric tendencies. During his time in the minor leagues, he developed a reputation for unusual habits, including biting baseballs and allowing catchers’ throws to hit him in the chest. “He can get crazy,” teammate Kerry Ligtenberg noted. “He’s got a real short fuse. When it goes off, it’s probably better not to be around.”
Rocker’s early minor league career was statistically unremarkable. By the end of the 1997 season, with a 5-6 record and a 4.86 ERA at Double-A, the Braves considered converting him into a reliever. Initially hesitant, Rocker was sent to the Arizona Fall League to pitch exclusively in relief. This experience proved transformative. “I learned that everything’s about attitude,” Rocker explained. “I used to worry over every pitch, every batter. The coaches in Arizona talked to me about just going out and throwing. Don’t worry, throw.”
This shift in mindset paid dividends. The following season, Rocker made the Braves’ major league roster as a reliever. In 1999, after an injury to Ligtenberg, he became the closer, achieving 38 saves with a 2.49 ERA and 104 strikeouts in 72 1/3 innings. Despite his on-field success, it was his outspoken nature that garnered the most attention, drawing comparisons to Dennis Rodman. “Some of the more stoic guys on the team probably get annoyed by me,” Rocker admitted. “But the younger, fiery guys–we get annoyed at their stoicism. There needs to be more atmosphere in our clubhouse. I don’t mean loud music and hooting and hollering. But I don’t think having the atmosphere of a doctor’s office helps.”
In the aftermath of Game 4 of the NLCS, as Rocker vented his frustrations in the locker room, teammate Mike Remlinger, a veteran reliever, offered a more measured perspective. “The thing is,” Remlinger said, “baseball is a game of humility. You can be on top one minute, as low as possible the next. When you’re young, you don’t realize it. But sooner or later you learn–we all do. Be humble.”
John Rocker in action on the mound, showcasing the pitching talent that was often overshadowed by controversy.
Despite calls for humility and reflection, the animosity towards John Rocker showed no signs of abating. “My mouth is watering for that day when Rocker steps foot in Shea once again,” declared “Metswin” on rockersucks.com. “(This time I’m bringing D batteries.)” This online threat encapsulated the intense and often volatile reaction John Rocker provoked, forever branding him as one of baseball’s most controversial figures, a player whose talent was inextricably linked to the firestorm he created.
Fast Company: National League Strikeout Leaders (Minimum 15 Save Opportunities)
| CLOSER, TEAM | K’S/9 IP |
|---|---|
| Billy Wagner, Astros | 14.9 |
| Armando Benitez, Mets | 14.8 |
| Matt Mantei, Diamondbacks | 13.6 |
| John Rocker, Braves | 12.9 |
| Ugueth Urbina, Expos | 11.9 |
“I talked about what degenerates [Mets fans] were,” Rocker is quoted as saying, “and they proved me right,” a final defiant statement that encapsulates his combative relationship with fans and his enduringly controversial legacy in baseball.
