By Jeff Faraudo
#WCChoops Columnist | ARCHIVES
2020 WCC HALL OF HONOR PROFILES
 
Former BYU baseball coach Gary Pullins was more than merely relieved, he was ecstatic. Nearly 40 years ago, Pullins offered a scholarship to a prospect he had never seen, based simply on the recommendation of a single scout who watched the player in one game 1,800 miles from the Cougars’ campus.
 
And now, at last, he cast his eyes for the first time on 18-year-old Wally Joyner. 
 
The moment unfolded in the BYU campus quad, where Pullins was greeted in the late summer of 1980 by Joyner and his parents, who had driven across the country from Georgia in the family station wagon. “We looked like the Griswolds on vacation,” Joyner said.
 
Joyner didn’t want this to be a big family event. He had tried to convince his mother, Carma, that he wanted to meet Pullins by himself, and that everyone else should head to the hotel. But Mom said no, so the public introduction was happening.
 
“My Mom is yelling, `Coach Pullins, we’re here!’” Joyner recalled. “He looks at us and he’s trying to be nice, but I know for a fact he’s wondering, `Who’s here?’ She says, `It’s the Joyners.’ “
 
And then Pullins sees a tall, sculpted young man with broad shoulders, and he gets excited. 
 
Problem is, it wasn’t Wally. It was his older brother, Brent, but Pullins didn't know that.
 
“He’s got this big smile on his face and he gives my mom a cordial handshake, but he doesn’t take his eyes off my brother,” Joyner said. “My brother’s trying to interrupt and finally he says, `Coach, I’m not Wally. I’m his brother.’
 
“And he points over to me. I’m this little, non-athletic looking kid. To this day, coach Pullins and I laugh about it. But it was a classic moment. The smile goes off his face and panic sets in.”
 
Pullins, retired and living in Texas, concedes his first up-close impression of his young first baseman was not encouraging. 
 
“The thing to understand here is Wally coming out of high school had a pear-shaped body and was already losing his hair,” Pullins said. “He looked like anything but an athlete.
 
“The story changed when we put a bat in his hand.”
 
Now 57, Joyner turned out to be everything Pullins thought his brother might become. He is BYU’s 2020 inductee into the West Coast Conference Hall of Honor, an award that leaves him flattered and excited. “When I was given the call, at first I thought they made a wrong phone call.”
 
Before assembling a splendid Major League career, Joyner played three seasons for the Cougars and was their starting first baseman from the start of his freshman campaign. He batted .419 for his college career, slugged 67 doubles and 43 homers, and drove in 206 runs in 179 games. He rarely struck out, was an adept if not speedy baserunner and a very good defensive player, Pullins said.
 
And in 1983, as a junior, he was the centerpiece on the best team in school history. The Cougars’ roster included six players who would go on to reach the Majors, including Cody Snyder and Rick Aguilera. The Cougars’ right-handed pitching ace, Scott Nielsen, set an NCAA record with 26 consecutive victories.
 
Joyner batted .462 in his final year as a college player, hit 23 homers and drove in 95 runs to earn second-team All-America honors for a team that was 54-9 in the regular season. 
 
Because the Cougs didn’t have a lighted field at the time, they could not host games in the NCAA tournament and were shipped to Tempe, Ariz., to face Arizona State in the first round.
 
Joyner went 3-for-5 with a home run and two RBIs and BYU jumped out to an 8-0 lead. But ASU rallied, led by a freshman batting in the No. 9 spot who singled, doubled, homered and drove in four runs. His name was Barry Bonds.
 
“He showed us what he had,” Joyner said of Bonds, recalling the Cougars’ 19-11 loss. BYU lost to Fresno State on a scorching afternoon the next day and its season was over.
 
“We were as good as anybody that we faced that year, probably better than anybody. We had tremendous talent and we had the right mix. We loved playing the game,” Joyner said. “Then, before we knew it, we were out. It was devastating.”
 
Joyner’s baseball career was just getting started, of course. He played 16 seasons in the Majors, although it didn’t happen overnight.
 
Joyner was invited to his first Major League spring training with the California Angels in 1985 and he was terrific. But manager Gene Mauch sent him down to Triple-A just before the season began.
 
“Son, you’re an impressive ballplayer. You’ve opened up a lot of eyes in camp. “I know you hit over .400, but it doesn't matter if you hit .400 or .700,” Mauch told him, before pointing to Rod Carew’s locker. “As long as he’s here, he is playing first base.”
 
Joyner played winter ball in Puerto Rico after the ’85 season and won the Triple Crown by hitting .356 average with 14 homers, and 48 RBIs in 54 games. He also spent every morning at the gym, lifting weights and eventually adding 10 pounds of muscle to reshape the pear.
 
Carew retired after the 1985 season, and Joyner took over with a bang. He hit 22 home runs and drove in 100 runs, became the first rookie to start in the All-Star Game and finished second to Jose Canseco in Rookie of the Year voting.
 
Joyner became a phenomenon. ESPN’s Chris Berman referred to him as Wally “Absorbine” Joyner, and Anaheim Stadium became known as “Wally World,” an homage to National Lampoon’s “Vacation” movie franchise.
 
Joyner was even better in 1987, slugging 34 home runs with 117 RBIs. He played in the 1998 World Series with the San Diego Padres and finished his career with a .289 batting average, 202 homers and 1,106 RBIs.
 
These days, Wally and Lesly, his wife of 37 years and a former BYU gymnast, live in Mapleton, Utah, just 10 miles south of Provo, where they raised four daughters and Lesly still raises horses. Joyner does philanthropic work, helping to organize charity events. His only complaint: Utah’s snowy winters.
 
“When it gets white here, I get grumpy and I try to find a warm place,” he said, referring to annual jaunts down to Cabo San Lucas. But the pull to return home is made stronger by five grandchildren — a sixth coming in June — all of whom live nearby.
 
Joyner is anything but grumpy about his baseball career. “More than I ever expected,” he said.
 
And more than his former coach expected that first day they met in Provo. At least until Joyner picked up a baseball bat.