In doing some research on another topic today, I came across a New York Times article from 1981 about the 1978 Giants, a team that I remember mostly as the first Giants pennant contender I was old enough to appreciate, but a team that was also well known for having a significant number of outspoken "born-again" Christians. I'm taking a bit of a cheap shot by excerpting the Gary Lavelle quote below, but I'll also paste the full text of the article. It's a really interesting read, even if only as a time capsule.

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GARY LAVELLE QUOTE:

The born-again Giants claim that most reporters who cover the club regularly were fairer than some columnists. Lavelle recalls: ''One columnist wrote we were not getting anywhere by praying to Jesus and that maybe we should try praying to Satan. I remember that column well. I was not really surprised. The Bay Area is the center of devil worship, radical groups and homosexuality in this country. It is a satanic region.''
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FULL TEXT:

RELIGION BECOMES AN IMPORTANT PART OF BASEBALL SCENE

By GEORGE VECSEY
Published: May 10, 1981

THE God Squad. That nickname has followed the San Francisco Giants since 1978, eventually giving them a reputation of a team somehow weakened by the presence of several ''born-again'' Christians.

The basis for this reputation seems to be a quote attributed to Bob Knepper, now with the Houston Astros, that it was ''God's will'' when he gave up a game-losing home run. Although Knepper and his friends deny he made the statement, it continues to follow him and the Giants, and popped up in several baseball previews this spring.

''The tone of the article makes us sound pacified, but God does not expect us to be goody-two-shoes,'' says Gary Lavelle, a 32-yearold relief pitcher who once pitched in an All-Star Game and is the leader of the spiritual movement in the Giant clubhouse.

As a result of the quote, a few Giants have worried whether their ''born-again'' teammates are intense enough, even though many Giants praise the witnessing players as among the most dedicated of players. The confusion points out the problems in mixing religious beliefs with the simplified perceptions of sports.

Religious witnessing has become more common in all sports in the last decade, particularly in baseball, where chapel meetings are held in the clubhouse every Sunday with the endorsement of Commissioner Bowie Kuhn.

The ''God Squad'' label began in 1978 when the Giants contended for first place until late in the season, but ultimately finished third. Many of the Giants were active in the Baseball Chapel, a Sunday-morning prayer service run by Watson Spoelstra of St. Petersburg, Fla., a retired sportswriter. Several Giants also became deeply involved in Bible study groups on their own time.

The ''born-again'' movement was hardly confined to a few locker rooms in the 1970's, but was a growing religious force in America, based on Biblical evangelical tradition. Evangelicals accept the full authority of the Bible, have made a personal spiritual commitment to Christ, and also accept the responsibility of witnessing their faith to others.

The basis for this commitment is taken from John 3:3, in which Jesus tells Nicodemus: ''I tell you the truth: no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.''

Just as President Carter and many other public figures spoke openly of their faith, so did athletes when given the opportunity. ''A lot of neat things were happening in 1978,'' says Rob Andrews, an infielder on that squad, now a youth pastor and teacher in Concord, Calif. ''A lot of us were having success on the field and finding Christ in our personal lives. As long as we were winning, the Christians were given credit for being a driving force on that team.'' Example of a Teammate

Andrews recalls that he had been traded from Baltimore and Houston with a reputation as a hothead. In the minor leagues he once asked his manager, Joe Altobelli, to install a punching bag behind the dugout so he could punch away his frustrations. He still had personal problems when Altobelli, then managing the Giants, brought him to San Francisco in 1977 and his locker was next to Lavelle's.

''I saw Gary Lavelle go through hard times that would have killed me,'' Andrews recalls. ''But he was always calm. He never preached to me but one day I asked him, 'Gary, what is it?' He said it was Christ.''

In 1979 the Giants never regained the winning touch, and Altobelli lost his job. Rumors began circulating that the Giants had been divided between carousers and born-againers, as if they were two extremes surrounding some kind of competitive ideal.

''Some guys fight like tigers but they always seem calm,'' says Altobelli, now the third-base coach with the Yankees. ''Other guys, Italian guys maybe, talk with their hands, get more physical. It takes all kinds. I had no complaint about those guys. Our problem in 1979 was pitching, not our chapel guys.''

The chief criticism from that year was the ''God's will'' quote attributed to Knepper after he gave up a home run. He says he can neither recall the game nor the quote. Knepper, who has pitched three shutouts this season with Houston, says he originally said, ''A lot of people believe we pray to God for victory and that we say it is God's will if we lose, but we never say that.

''We say God lets you perform. I do believe that as long as I give my best, I can't determine the outcome, but a Christian still has to go out and bust his fanny every day. I believe Christ died on the cross so I would give my best in life. For me to give up a home run and say God made me hang a curve ball is ridiculous. He doesn't play favorites. He gave me a certain amount of talent for me to use the right way.''

Fritz Peterson, a former major-league player now a chapel representative in the Chicago area, says, ''The religion was something that could be used against players, just like when I was pitching and my weight was fine as long as I was winning but I became overweight when I started to lose. Yet I never changed a pound. Some people said these guys were pacifists but they always played tough within the rules. I firmly believe that if Jesus Christ was sliding into second base, he would knock the second baseman into left field to break up the double play. Christ might not throw a spitball but he would play hard within the rules.'' Criticism From the Press

The born-again Giants claim that most reporters who cover the club regularly were fairer than some columnists. Lavelle recalls: ''One columnist wrote we were not getting anywhere by praying to Jesus and that maybe we should try praying to Satan. I remember that column well. I was not really surprised. The Bay Area is the center of devil worship, radical groups and homosexuality in this country. It is a satanic region.''

The evangelical players insist most of the criticism came from the press, but several suggest that Altobelli's replacement, Dave Bristol, was a little less tolerant than Altobelli. Now raising horses in the dogwood spring of North Carolina, Bristol said: ''I saw Rob Andrews turn his life around, and that was great.

''I do think there has to be a line drawn somewhere. The Lord is watching over all of us once the game starts. I don't like to think anybody uses religion as a crutch. It's supposed to make you a stronger person, not a better player.

''But I never said anything about those guys and nobody said anything to me. I didn't always understand Bob Knepper but I liked him a lot. I don't think religion was his problem - it was mechanics - dropping to a side-arm delivery. Bobby is a battler. I never thought he was complaisant.''

Frank Robinson, the new manager of the Giants, says he knows nothing about the issue. Joe Torre, manager of the Mets, says he has seen Pete Falcone become a more controlled adult since his spiritual conversion.

Chuck Tanner of the Pirates points to his intense born-again shortstop, Tim Foli - once known as ''Chief Crazy Horse,'' fighter of teammates, opponents, managers and umpires alike -and says, ''Nobody is more of a battler than Foli. I think religion has a place everywhere. I go to the chapel meetings myself whenever I can.''

Both the Mets and the Yankees hold chapel meetings every Sunday, with Tom Skinner, a former street-gang member-turned-evangelist, coordinating the services for the Yankees. Dave Swanson is the Baseball Chapel representative to the Mets, whose attendance is not as high as some other teams, according to Falcone. Roman Catholic priests occasionally visit both the Met and Yankee clubhouses. Although Torre praised Falcone for his growth since his spiritual experience, the manager said he did not want to discuss whether he had ever seen a player become complacent following a conversion. ''Religion is a touchy subject,'' Torre said.

Did any Giant player feel concern over the zeal of the born-again players? Randy Moffitt, a regular at chapel, says he detected ''a little bit of it a few years ago, but it's all gone now.'' Lavelle says he heard rumors the born-again players took a separate bus on trips.

One Giant said, off the record, two years ago that he thought that a few teammates were spending too much time in prayer and not enough time in practice, but that same player said last week, ''We should probably be more like them.'' Pressure for a Commitment

One Giant who raised concerns recently is Darrell Evans, one of the founders of the Giants' chapel group who says he feels estranged from his evangelical teammates because he perceives ''pressure'' on him to make a stronger spiritual commitment.

''For the last couple of years this club has been frustrating,'' Evans said recently. ''When a game is over, you should reflect on it. I want to see everybody is involved 100 percent. I just don't get good vibes sometimes. I see a guy come off the field, I think, maybe it's just not that important to him. It looks like he just went through a normal day's work.

''This is not a 9-to-5 job. I'm not saying we should throw things around the clubhouse, but a few times in baseball I've seen guys who used to be very intense and are now very placid. You wonder if guys think things are predestined.''

John Montefusco, who was traded from the Giants to Atlanta this season, says his religious beliefs differ from the evangelicals but he praises them strongly.

''When I was pitching for the Giants I hated to come out of a game,'' Montefusco said recently, ''but I always felt better when Gary Lavelle came in for me. You could see he had competitive spirit. He may hold back his feelings, and maybe that's not healthy, but he is one of the finest people I've ever met in baseball. These are good people. They are my friends. I think the press took a few things and blew it out of proportion to make those guy look bad.''

Lavelle says he has tried to avoid the ''religious fanatic'' label by not preaching to people unless they ask him about his faith. He is disturbed that what seems like a positive to him, a stable life, an even disposition, could be described as a potential detriment for a team.

''It seems so natural to me to carry my faith with me into the locker room,'' Lavelle says. ''I'm not asking for things, but I believe my relationship to Christ makes me a better husband, father, ballplayer. To see it turned around the way it has been - it makes me wonder.''