Author: Larry Dierker

SUNDAY, JUNE 29 ● Chicago, vs Cubs

It was difficult to find a comfortable position for sleep, so I propped myself up and read for a while. I am enjoying my new book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. It is a journal of sorts about Savannah, Georgia. I’m only halfway through the book, and I already know that its cast of characters will be hard to match — even in the wacky world of major-league baseball.

I drifted into sleep, but I sure didn’t arise that way. The wakeup call jarred me, and I felt a sharp pain as I tried to move my right leg. I had been sleeping with it bent, and now it was stuck bent.

I didn’t even try to answer the phone. Judy got it on the fourth ring. It took me a full five minutes to straighten my leg. All the while, I was thinking: I hope I don’t have to go out and argue with the second-base umpire. I might get the first delay-of-game penalty in professional baseball.

The leg loosened, and by the time I got to the ballpark, I was able to take the steps up to the clubhouse with a little pain, but with no fear. Everything is going to be all right.

In chapel, we talked about The Lord’s Prayer and the four parts of praying: praise, supplication, entreaties, and exaltation. It was short and sweet.

Afterward, I asked our guest speaker about thy kingdom come. 

“Does it mean the same as may thy kingdom come?.”

“No,” he said, “the kingdom is here already, just as it is in Heaven. It is more an acknowledgement of that fact.”

I confess, I’m not too good at religion. I am generally open to ideas and philosophies, but the emotional part of religion is hard for me. Supplication comes naturally enough, but praise, entreaties, and exaltation come hard.

I have cleared one hurdle. I expect the next will be taller.

I expect the next week of baseball will present tall hurdles, as well.

 

We got off to a good start, routing Terry Mulholland with six runs in the fifth inning. Our starter was Tommy Greene, just up from New Orleans to take Donne Wall’s spot in the rotation. Yesterday, Cubby asked me if I wanted to list Tommy as one of the extra men. “I know he can hit,” I said. “You don’t have to put him on the list.”

Sure enough, Tommy got the big blow to get us going, a double into the well in left field. Later, Ausmus cleared the bases with a three-run double.

Greene was pitching a powerful game, too. He had seven strikeouts, and the Cubs had no runs in the first four innings.

In the bottom of the fifth, Tommy hit the wall.

Matt Galante noted on his transfer form that Tommy had not pitched effectively past 90-100 pitches. He had only 78 pitches as he took the hill, trying to win a major-league game for the first time in two years.

It was not to be.

He retired Scott Servais, then Rey Sanchez homered. This seemed to unnerve Tommy, and he walked the pitcher, Turk Wendell. Three more hits and an error later, I limped to the mound to take him out with a pitch count of 95.

Tom Martin came in a gave up a couple more hits. Then Blas Minor came in and got a line-drive out.

Before Lima came on in the seventh, I told him to relax and concentrate.

“Down in the zone for outs,” I said. “Up-and-in for effect.” This has been my advice for him since spring training, and he really put it to use in the seventh. He got them out 1-2-3 without a murmur.

We came up and iced the game with three runs in the eighth. Actually, we should have had four runs, but Derek failed to move up when Sosa missed the cutoff man on a throw to third.

When Lima went out to the mound in the eighth, Vern asked if I wanted him to finish the game or have someone else pitch the ninth.

“Let’s let him finish,” I said. It’ll be a good confidence-builder.”

One single, two doubles and a home run later, I brought Wagner into the game and put Ricky Gutierrez in at third in a double-switch. The timing was perfect. Sosa smashed one down the third-base line, and Ricky dove to his right and backhanded it on one hop. He bounced to his feet and threw Sosa out by a half-step.

I think Sean Berry could have caught the ball, but I don’t think he could have made the throw.

Now it was 10-7, still a comfortable lead, with Wagner in the game. But the Cubs refused to die. With two outs, Servais doubled; Sanchez and Jose Hernandez singled. The tying run was on base when Glanville grounded out.

It’s never easy these days.

 

We lit down in Houston just moments after the Indians, our next interleague opponent. As we got on the bus, Barry Waters told me that the bags would be delayed because there was only one conveyer cart available, and the Indians were already using it.

The thought of the Indians getting the upper hand on us was disquieting. The way we’re pitching, we’re no match for this hard-hitting ballclub.

SATURDAY, JUNE 28 ● Chicago, vs Cubs

Up and at ’em for Fox again. The game starts at 12:15, and Dave Labossiere and I hit the road at 8:00. The wind seems the same, but I think it will be warmer today. Might even touch 90 degrees. As we approached Belmont Avenue, I yelled at Dave, “Do you want to check the horse?”

He was wearing a headset, gliding along to the rhythm of the beat. He didn’t hear what I said, but he knew I had spoken to him. He skated on, and when we stopped to cross the highway, he asked what I had said and I told him, but it was too late to go back. 

The horse is part of a statue. It is rearing up on hind legs, with General Sheridan astride.  Back when I was playing, the team bus always drove past this statue and someone on the bus would say, “Don’t look at the horse’s balls. You’ll go 0-for-4.” Cheo Cruz always got a kick out of this. He would scream out, “Don’t look the balls horse.”

In recent years, the rookies of practically every major-league team are charged with painting the balls in team colors. If we came in behind the Phillies, for example, the balls would be maroon; we would paint them gold. The next day, the veterans would find out which rookie actually did the deed, and enlist a ballpark cop to come into the locker room and make the arrest.

When this happened to Todd Jones a few years ago, he cried. Several others have been handcuffed and led to the door before the team finally started laughing. It’s a great way to make the rookies earn their stripes. Brings everyone closer together.

I imagine the city of Chicago is probably wise to this by now. I doubt they do any cleanup work until after the season.

 

I went over to talk to Drayton in the owner’s box just before the game. He invited me to join him and his friends from Temple, Texas, for dinner.

“Judy is with me,” I said.

“Bring her along,” he said. “We all have our wives along too. They’re spending all our money on Michigan Avenue this afternoon.”

“Well, Ryan is here, too.”

“Bring him along.”

“My brother and his wife are here, too.”

“Bring them, too. The more, the merrier. We’re meeting in the lobby at 6:45.”

This was an offer I could not refuse. I just hoped for a win, so that dinner would be more pleasant.

Because this was a Fox game, we didn’t start right at 12:15. Instead, the umpires started the game when they got a cue from the producer of the telecast. We started at 12:17.

But actually, we never started at all. It was one of the ugliest games of the year from an Astros point of view.

Ramón Garcia got a pitch up and out over the plate to Mark Grace in the first inning, and Grace gave himself a 33rd birthday present by hitting it into the bleachers. After that, Ramon settled down and pitched a fine ballgame, despite four errors behind him.

Our hitters were once again baffled by an unfamiliar pitcher. Jeremy González was throwing hard, but seemed to be hanging a lot of off-speed pitches. We were timing the ball well, but swinging under it, popping up. There was a lot of frustration in our dugout, and some destruction down the runway, where furious ballplayers screamed obscenities and smashed their bats.

It was 3-0 when we came up with our big rally in the seventh. Two walks, sandwiched around a single, loaded the bases. Ricky Gutierrez hit a fielder’s-choice ground ball, and we scored a run. I pinch-ran with James Mouton, and he immediately stole second. When the ball got away, Ausmus streaked home. Now we were within a run.

Two more walks loaded the bases for Bagwell. Kent Bottenfield came into the game and struck Bagwell out.

In the bottom of the eighth, Sosa homered off John Hudek, and that was that. We lost 5-2.

 

The writers asked if the four errors bothered me. I didn’t even remember four errors. A couple of them were tough plays. Maybe I thought they had been scored hits. As it was, we got only two hits in the game.

“I don’t know about the errors,” I said, “but I can tell you this: you don’t win many games with two hits at Wrigley in the summertime.”

Bagwell told the writers he didn’t feel good at the plate.

“I’m not swinging real well right now,” he said. “It’s frustrating. I don’t think anyone in this clubhouse is happy with the way we’ve played this year. But you look at the flip side, and we’re still in first place.”

We won’t be there long, if we keep playing like this.

 

Skating back from the game was almost as frustrating as the game itself. Great hordes of humanity swarmed the lakefront. The hike-and-bike trail was an obstacle course.

I wanted to skate fast and blow off some steam; instead, we had to weave our way through the traffic. It was so crowded that I was barely able to sneak a peek at the lake. Couldn’t even check the action on the volleyball courts.

As we approached the stoplight at Michigan Avenue, just a block from the hotel, it was red. I slowed down, stood up, and was rolling slowly to a stop when a young couple took a hard right and cut right in front of me. I tried to make a sharp turn to the right, but I hit a crack in the sidewalk. Down I went, in a heap of anger. I felt a small click in my right knee, and screamed several epithets as my assailants scurried away.

I immediately knew my knee was injured, though there was no pain — just the click. I had a similar fall on the ski slopes a few years back. It didn’t require surgery, but it did cause some discomfort for a couple of months. Dave checked it out and told me to call him if it started to swell.

When I returned to the room, Judy had left a voicemail message that she and Ryan had gone to the aquarium and would be back at 6:30. I did a little writing and when 6:45 came with no Judy in sight, I called Rick and invited him to dinner and that I would meet up with them later.

When I got to the lobby, Drayton and Elizabeth, and their friends from Temple were waiting. Drayton was in good spirits.

“Where’s Judy?” he asked.

When I told him, he suggested that I wait a little longer and bring her along. “Bring your brother and his wife, too,” he said.

I wasn’t going to argue. And when I got back to the room, Judy was there.  We hustled to get ready, and we joined the dinner party just as the appetizers were being served.

I was fearful this dinner would be a jury trial, with me defending myself and the team. The outsiders — his and mine — saved me. The only thing that was grilled was the fish. It was an altogether pleasant evening.

 

After dinner, Rick suggested we go to the Days Inn to see if we could watch the Holyfield vs Tyson fight. It wasn’t on in the lobby bar, so Rick and Ryan started walking the floors, looking for an open door. When they came back disappointed, I said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a show, anyway. Boxing is only one step above pro wrestling. It’s a joke.”

I’ll be darned if I wasn’t right. Mike Tyson bit Evander Holyfield twice, and was disqualified in the third round. As we finished our beer, the debacle was reported on ESPN.

It was the first time I had guessed right all day. I limped back from the Days Inn, knowing it would be hard to sleep.

FRIDAY, JUNE 27 ● Chicago, vs Cubs

Sammy Sosa signed a new four-year contract today for $42.5 million. The Cubs will have to win a pennant to justify his salary. The odds are squarely against them.

Sosa is a player of rare talent, but he is not a first-tier player. He strikes out often, walks seldom. He will drive the ball over the fence 35 to 40 times a year, but he will not be on base often when one of his teammates connects. If he got on base 45 percent of the time, like Jeff Bagwell, it would be different. 

As it is, it’s a waste of money. The Tribune Corporation, after years of fiscal sanity, has joined the asylum of bewildered owners who gamble on winning.

Yesterday, Wayne Huizenga put the Marlins up for sale. He claims that he will lose $30 million this year, despite the fact that attendance is up 35 percent.

Huizenga became impatient with the player-development process of his GM Dave Dombrowski after watching the big-ticket Braves win the NL East every year. Instead of waiting for the farm system to produce the talent, he decided to go on a free-agent spending spree.

Now he has a powerhouse team, but still in second place behind the Braves. He said that he thought the fans would pour into Pro Player Stadium and fill his bowl day after day to witness the exploits of his star-studded lineup. As it is, he will have trouble drawing three million fans for the year.

Three million! That’s still a lot of fans. By historical standards, it is fantastic. But it is not good enough to stem the flow of red ink.

He was prepared to lose a few million, but not prepared to drown. He said that it was not the players’ problem. Not the fans’ problem.

“It’s Wayne Huizenga’s problem,” he said. “If I had used the principles I use in my other business, this never would have happened.”

How can the Cubs read this story in the paper and then offer Sammy Sosa 42.5 million dollars the same day? That’s their problem.

My problem is to get Derek Bell to hit like Sammy Sosa, so that we can justify our four-year, $16 million deal. Derek has every bit as much talent as Sammy, but he does not play nearly as hard.  

 

This morning I bladed to the ballpark with Dave. Normally I don’t like working out in the morning, but skating along Lakeshore Drive is so much fun, it doesn’t feel like a workout.

The only problem is that Dave has to be the first one at the ballpark; he arrives even earlier than the coaches. We left the hotel at 8:30 and arrived at Wrigley Field at 9:00. I left tickets for my cousin, Bob Reich, and for Rick.

Judy is going to take the day off from the ballpark. I don’t blame her. She doesn’t get a whole lot of time to herself. Rick and Ryan will be ballpark buddies. Perhaps they will meet up with Bob and his son, Bobby.

 

The first thing we do when we enter the stadium — even before we go to the locker room — is to check the flags to see which way the wind is blowing. I knew from blading that the wind was not strong. Turns out it is blowing from right to left. The day is warm and sunny, however, and it should still be a hitter’s day.

Mike Hampton is going for us, and Kevin Foster for them. I feel pretty good about our chances with Hamp. He has been inconsistent, but he did win his last game, and he has pitched well here at Wrigley. Foster is a fly-ball pitcher. If he’s not extra fast today, we should launch a home run or two.

When the lineups came out, Biggio was in and Servais was out. Even with the catcher’s gear, it is better to hit than to be hit.

Hampton had some first-inning trouble today. Doug Glanville opened with a single and went to second on a balk. Replays showed that he did not balk, but I didn’t see the move well enough to say anything about it. Couldn’t have argued it anyway, without getting thrown out. You can argue about the interpretation of a rule; you cannot argue a judgment call. The umpires know the rules; when they make a mistake, it is almost always an error in judgement.

As a practical matter, you cannot argue much at all anymore without being tossed out of the game. I waited a couple of innings and then asked umpire Jerry Layne about the call between innings. He said that Mike did a slide-step toward home and then threw to first. This didn’t make sense to me, because if you slide-step to the plate and then throw to first, you will most likely fall down; Hampton didn’t even look off-balance. I checked the replay later, and Hampton did not balk.

It didn’t make much difference, because McRae walked, Sosa reached on a fielder’s choice, and Dunston doubled. The two runs would have scored anyway.

We came back with a run in the second, and Hampton settled down. He ended up pitching into the eighth inning without allowing any more runs. Unfortunately, we didn’t do anything against Foster. We kept getting hanging breaking balls to hit, and kept popping them up. Turk Wendell closed the game for the Cubs, and he was sharper than I have ever seen him.

It’s hard to take a 2-1 loss on a hitter’s day at Wrigley.

Sosa got a hit and stole a base. He is hitting .256 now, with 15 homers and 52 RBI. Bagwell is hitting .320 with 22 homers and 72 RBI. I’m glad we don’t have to re-sign him anytime soon. He’s tied up for the next four years at the bargain price of $7 million per annum.

Skating back from the park was more fun than skating over. The wind was against us, but the scenery was great. Bathing beauties, beach volleyballers, hikers and bikers, children with Popsicles®. Ladies with sun hats, street musicians, chess players, amateur preachers, and poets. Even a septuagenarian on blades.

I could live in downtown Chicago — during the summertime.

We went over to Harry Caray’s restaurant for dinner. Harry was there, and Ryan seemed to enjoy meeting him. Harry complimented Ryan on his shirt, a vintage Reyn Spooner Hawaiian model, with scenes from the ballpark.

The food was superb, the company better. Rick and Ryan spent part of the morning watching the commodities trading at the Chicago Board of Trade before going to the ballpark. Sounds like they had more action than we did. There were traders with coats of many colors.

Ryan showed me the symbols they used to convey the amounts to be bought and sold. One sign was three fingers on the bicep and a raised fist. Ryan demonstrated. It looked a lot like the universal sign that means “up yours.” We got a good laugh about that one.

“Maybe I’ll make that our bunt sign,” I said. “But then again, maybe not. Some of the guys might take it the wrong way.”

THURSDAY, JUNE 26 ● Chicago, vs Cubs

I arose at 9:00 this morning, feeling better. At 9:10, the phone rang, and it was Gerry. We had talked about sending Donne Wall down and bringing up Tommy Greene. Gerry wanted me to discuss it with Vern and call him this morning. Vern and I talked on the airplane, and neither of us had a problem with the move.

Donne just isn’t pitching well now, and the report is that Tommy Greene has added some velocity — which is what we were hoping for when we sent him back at the end of spring training. 

True to form, Gerry wants to get on with it. He asked me to call Donne up to my room and give him the news, then have Donne call Barry Waters and make his travel arrangements, then call Rob Matwick to arrange the press release.

Tommy Greene will be here in the morning, and he will take Donne’s turn in the rotation on Sunday. Gerry wants Donne to pitch on Sunday in New Orleans.

I hope Donne takes it well, but I’m not optimistic. He has not pitched well, but like most players, he feels that he will get back on track. He will likely think that he didn’t get a good-enough chance. He may decide not to report to New Orleans right away.

Funny how that works: when you call a guy up, he gets there the same day. When you send him down, it sometimes takes a week to complete the journey.

 

I got Judy and Ryan up, and rushed them out of the room. I called Vern to come up and assist me. Then I called Donne, and he wasn’t in his room, so I left him a voice message to call me. It was about 9:45 at the time.

Vern came up, and we reviewed what we would tell Donne. When he still hadn’t called at 11:00, I told Vern to take off.

“I’ll call you when he calls me,” I said. “If you’re not in, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it myself.”

           

I waited around until 1:30, hoping there would be something resembling lunch at the ballpark. The phone rang, and it was Donne. I called Vern, and he arrived with Donne about 1:35.

Sometimes, these guys slay you with their tenuous grasp of reality.  Sometimes, though less often, they face the facts and don’t make excuses. Donne was a true professional.

When we cut him at the end of spring training, he was mad. He didn’t think Sid Fernandez should make the team ahead of him. He was right: Sid made one start and then headed for the disabled list. Who knows what would have happened to Donne if we had picked him instead, and put him in the rotation?

All we know now is that he pitched well for the Zephyrs and then made one good start for us before he pulled a hamstring. After that, he just couldn’t get it together.

“I know I’ve been horseshit,” he said. “I was sort of expecting this. I just wish it could have happened in Houston, before I came all the way up here.”

We told him what we thought he needed to do to get back. It pretty much jibed with what he knew he had to do: get command of his fastball and changeup. He asked when and where to report, expressed interest in making his next start, and vowed to be back.

Why is it that guys like this are seldom blessed with great ability?

 

What a ballpark! The weather was perfect, and so was Wrigley. Built in 1916 for the Chicago Whales of the Federal League, it is still the best park in the league. Hippo Vaughn and Fred Toney pitched the only double-no-hitter here. Gabby Hartnett hit his “homer in the gloamin’.” Ernie Banks hit his 500th home run.

And then there were lights.

This was a night game, and much more. It started at 7:05 ,with right field bathed in sunlight. It ended 3 hours and 45 minutes later, in darkness for the Cubs and in hopeful victory for the Astros.

 

As with most great games, you never could have predicted it at the beginning. Chris Holt started for us, Frank Castillo for them.

They grabbed a 1-0 lead in the second. We bounced back in the third. At the time, Bill asked me if I wanted to do anything with Tim Bogar on first with one out.

“No,” I said. “I want Bidge to pick a pitch to hit. I think we’re going to launch one off this guy.”

Three pitches later, Biggio hit one onto Waveland Avenue. 

Chucky Carr, in his first game wearing Astros livery, walked and stole second and came home on a single by Luis González.

The Cubs came back to tie the game in the fourth. They had runners on second and third, and Scott Servais due. Scott has hit us hard since we traded him to the Cubs. The next hitter was Castillo, one of the weakest-hitting pitchers in the league. The Cubs’ leadoff man, Brian McRae, was 0-for-his-last-25 at-bats.

Normally, I don’t walk the 8th hitter in this situation; I try to get him out so that we can face the pitcher leading off the next inning. In this case, I was sure Holt would get Castillo out, and I didn’t mind McRae leading off the next inning, so I ordered an intentional pass. Castillo lined Holt’s first pitch into right for a two-run single.

We went up 4-3 in the fifth on Carr’s RBI double. We added a run in the sixth on a homer by Ausmus, and another in the seventh on an RBI single by Bell.

Holt was scuffling through the game, as he often does. In the seventh, he just couldn’t find the plate. He got behind pinch-hitter Dave Hansen, who singled. Then he walked McRae and hit Brant Brown.

I brought José Lima into the game and he pitched well, allowing only one of the runs to score.

Ryne Sandberg and Dave Clark singled off Lima to open the eighth. When the count went to 2-2 on Servais, I had an ominous feeling. We were leading 6-4 when I went to the mound and brought Billy Wagner into the game. Servais fouled a few pitches, then hit a looping single to center. Now it was 6-5, and the Cubs had runners at first and third.

Back to the mound I trekked.

The infielders wanted to know where to play. Ausmus wanted to know whether to throw through on a steal attempt. I said to play back and throw through.

Well, what do you know? My instinct was right. Biggio didn’t complain about playing back, especially after McRae hit a high chopper to short for a double play. If we had been playing in, the ball might have bounced over Bogar’s head.

But this was a day when Wagner didn’t have it. The Cubs got an RBI double from Mark Grace in the ninth to tie the score.

We were three-and-a-half hours into the game as we turned to the tenth inning. Luckily, we scored a run on four consecutive singles. The last one was a shot by Bagwell that got to leftfielder Glanville in a hurry, giving him time to throw home. He was so deep in left that I thought Biggio would score easily, but the throw was strong and true. Bidge slid in, and seeing that he was out, popped up and hit Servais with a forearm shiver. Servais not only held the ball, he miraculously sat up and threw to third to get Carr on a tag play. It was the best and most-exciting play of the year so far.

We were up 7-6 now, but Wagner was finished. I held my breath while Blas Minor closed out the victory.

 

We didn’t get back to the hotel until almost midnight, and with a day game tomorrow, there was scant time for celebration. I did meet Rick and Susan, Judy, and Ryan for a beer and a snack. They seemed to enjoy Wrigley. 

It was quite an introduction to this ballpark — a park that has seem some of the wildest games on record.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 25 ● Pittsburgh, vs Pirates

I said hello to Biggio this morning. He did not acknowledge the greeting.

Nice start. 

At least we have Darryl “The Dependable” Kile going for us. Their pitcher, Steve Cooke, is a soft-tossing lefty — the kind of pitcher who drives us crazy. Still, I felt good about my lineup. It always looks better with Bidge leading off.

 

Chuck Carr came in with Gerry, and we spelled out what we expected from him. I told him that he would start most of the time for the next two weeks, and then we would evaluate his performance and the team’s needs.

“I want you to know going in that you may end up as a part-time player,” I said. “I can’t guarantee that you will be the regular centerfielder. I know this has been a problem elsewhere, but we can’t have that problem here. Is that understood?”

He said it was.

Gerry explained that Bobby Abreu was going out for a rehab assignment, and that he would be playing some center field when he came back.

Everything was hunky-dory with Chucky. What could he say?

 

Lance Berkman’s father, Larry, came in with Gerry a few minutes later. We had a nice visit. His father is a big, strong, rawboned man, which suggests that Lance might get a little stronger still. He hit 41 home runs at Rice this year, so he is pretty strong already.

Larry Berkman expressed his happiness with the way we handled the negotiations. He is excited about coming to see his son play major-league baseball. The family lives in New Braunfels, Texas, near San Antonio, only a couple of hours away. With our power shortage this year, I am hoping he progresses speedily through the system. We have only one problem if he does: his best position is first base, and we happen to have a pretty good first-baseman by the name of Bagwell.

Lance will start in the Florida State League. He will be a left-fielder.

 

The game today ran true to form. Cooke was only throwing 83 MPH, throwing even slower pitches, curves, and changeups, quite a bit. We were barely getting the ball out of the infield, and we were down 1-0 on an RBI double by Jose Guillen as we came up to hit in the seventh inning.

At this point, I made an unusual move: I used Ricky Gutierrez to pinch-hit for Tim Bogar leading off the inning. Ricky grounded out. With one out, the next move would be to hit for Kile. But I didn’t want him out of the game. He struck out.

Biggio reached second on Dale Sveum’s throwing error, and went to third on a wild pitch. I signaled for Cubby to alert James Mouton to the possibility of a bunt hit. James took the initiative, and he dropped it down perfectly; Biggio scored to tie the game.

When Biggio came into the dugout, I reached out my hand to congratulate him, and he ignored me while slapping hands with everybody else. Bill looked at me and smiled.

“I guess he’s not over it yet,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll be all right.”

I was worried, though. My stomach was still in knots, and my neck was still stiff.

Kile survived a two-out scare, and in the top of the eighth, the Pirates had pinch-hit for Cooke. Derek Bell greeted the new pitcher, Clint Sodowsky, with a long home run in the bottom of the inning.

With one out, Tony Eusebio walked. Now I had a decision to make.

We had already talked about whether we should pinch-run with Ausmus. If we did that, I was inclined to bring Billy Wagner into the game, because I didn’t want to change catchers on Kile.

Bill made the decision for me; he sent Ausmus in to run. I didn’t think we had come to a conclusion on this subject, but Bill apparently did. Maybe he just wanted Wagner in there anyway. I didn’t mind, myself, and probably would have come to that conclusion on my own.

Ausmus moved up on a slow ground ball. I pinch-hit Bill Spiers for Kile, and Gene Lamont switched to a lefthanded pitcher, Matt Reubel. I asked Bill if he thought I should hit with Listach, and he was noncommittal.

“It would probably be better from an offensive standpoint, but who do you want to play defense?” he asked.

That confirmed my instinct. We already had the lead.

I let Spiers hit, knowing that if we did not score or they tied the game, I would still have Listach available, and I would still have a better defensive infield in the game.

Spiers made me look good, as he has so often this year. He doubled down the first-base line, and we led 3-1.

Pirates manager Gene Lamont walked Biggio and brought hard-throwing Rich Loiselle into the game. Now I had to make another decision: I could hit with switch-hitter Chucky Carr and improve my outfield defense, or let Mouton swing. James is a good fastball hitter. I let him hit, and I was rewarded with a two-run double.

Biggio ignored me again as he passed through the welcoming line.

I was still pretty upset, but at least I didn’t have to worry about losing the game anymore. Wagner came in and struck out the side.

 

After the game and the postgame press conference, I talked with the coaches again. They reassured me that I had done the right thing. The consensus was that he would get over it, and we would be better off for my having done it.

           

We are heading out on a four-day trip to Chicago, and it is our family trip. We will have more than 30 children with us, including Ryan Dierker. He has been wanting to go to Chicago for several years.

When we got to the hotel, Uncle Rick and Aunt Susan were there to greet us. They want to see Wrigley Field, and I don’t blame them. It’s a great ballpark. Ryan wanted to go up to the top of the Hancock Building, which is right across the street from the hotel. The view, with all the twinkling lights, was impressive, but I think it would be better in the daytime.

We had a bite to eat in the coffee shop and called it a day.