Arlington, Texas ? David Clyde always wanted to leave a lasting impression on baseball.

With a blazing fastball and nasty curve, the high school phenom was the No. 1 overall pick by the Texas Rangers in June 1973.

Three weeks later, he was pitching in the major leagues, a strapping 18-year-old left-hander shoved into the spotlight to spur interest in a struggling franchise.

Clyde won his debut June 27, 1973, but that magical night before the Rangers’ first sellout crowd in Texas would be the highlight of his career.

Six years later, Clyde pitched his last game in the majors. He was 18-33 with a 4.63 ERA in 84 games for Texas and Cleveland. He later ended a comeback with his hometown Houston Astros, but had left his mark on the game — for the wrong reasons.

“It is probably the classic case of how not to handle a young talent,” Clyde said. “Even though mine’s kind of on the black side of it, I’ve made a contribution. Every couple of years when another young talent comes along, my name gets mentioned, and I hear the satisfying words that, ‘We’re not going to let happen to this young man what happened to David Clyde.'”

Impressive resume

As a senior at Houston’s Westchester High, Clyde was 18-0 and allowed only three earned runs in 1481/3 innings (0.18 ERA). He struck out 328 batters — 100 more than he would in the majors — with just 18 walks and five no-hitters, two of them perfect games.

The Rangers gave him a $65,000 signing bonus and an immediate ticket to the majors — not because Clyde was ready, but because Rangers owner Bob Short was desperate to generate interest and income for the team he moved from Washington a year before.

Former Texas Ranger David Clyde pitches in this 1973 file photo. Clyde was the No. 1 overall pick by the Rangers in the June 1973 draft and was pitching in the major leagues three weeks later.

“I had no idea of everything that was going on. All I wanted to do was play ball,” Clyde said. “They come to us and offer the big leagues. What are you supposed to do when it’s something you’ve dreamed about your whole life? Everything happened so fast.”

Clyde’s debut against the Minnesota Twins got Short a sellout crowd of 35,698. It even caused an unprecedented traffic jam that delayed the start of the game.

“That was the longest 15 minutes of my life,” Clyde said. “I can almost imagine what somebody on death row is thinking. It seemed like an eternity.”

Clyde walked the first two batters, then struck out the next three. He gave up a two-run homer to Mike Adams (three career homers) in the second inning, but that was the only hit and runs he allowed.

Clyde pitched five innings, with eight strikeouts and seven walks, and won.

Greed wins out

Gene Clyde expected his son to get two starts before going to the minors for a chance to adjust to pro baseball. Rangers manager Whitey Herzog concurred, but there was no formal agreement with Short about that.

“He had never been away from home, except for a Boy Scout camp or a Sunday school weekend outing … and he was going into an angry, hostile world,” Gene Clyde said.

The Rangers’ clubhouse was no Sunday school class. It was a team known for hard partying, and the teenager who had never smoked or drank tried to fit in by following his teammates, all of them at least five years older.

Ken Suarez, left, and David Clyde watch as a video is played from Clyde's 1973 debut for the Rangers during a tribute this month at the Ballpark in Arlington. Suarez was the catcher for Clyde's first game, June 27, 1973.

Short’s interest was the bottom line. Fans came when Clyde pitched — an average of 18,187 for his 12 home starts and 7,622 for the other home games — so he remained, going 4-8 with a 5.01 ERA as a rookie.

“There’s no doubt in my mind he was totally mishandled, totally abused, and the only reason he was in the big leagues was because Bob Short needed the money,” said current Rangers broadcaster Tom Grieve, one of Clyde’s teammates in 1973.

Herzog once called what happened to Clyde “one of the worst things I’ve seen in baseball.”

Things got worse when Herzog was fired near the end of 1973 and replaced by Billy Martin, a brash manager never too keen on pitchers, especially young ones. Clyde was 3-0 the next season when Martin, without explanation, didn’t use him for 30 days. Clyde lost his last nine decisions that year.

“I have an awful lot of unanswered questions in my mind having played for Billy,” Clyde said. “That was one of the most miserable years in my entire life.”

With virtually no guidance from Martin or pitching coach Art Fowler, Clyde’s confidence deteriorated.

“Player development is equally as important as talent,” said Drayton McLane, a Rangers fan before he became owner of the Astros. “I’m sure it hurt his career not going through the minors. They were needing something to excite the fans, and they thought it would be this pitcher.”