Author: Larry Dierker

TUESDAY, JUNE 24 ● Houston, vs Pittsburgh

It certainly wasn’t easy for me today. Fact is, I would rank this as my most difficult day so far.

I finally got to the bottom of my mail. Nothing left to do but pay bills. That can wait. I knew I would have to talk with Gerry before I talked to Biggio. I phoned him at his office, and he said that he was getting ready to call me.

“We need to talk about a few players,” he said.

“We sure do,” I replied.

“Why? What’s up?”

“I’ve got a little problem. Let’s do your list first.”

“Well, I just wanted to finish our conversation about bringing Chucky Carr up.  Are we agreed that we will put Montgomery on the DL and then do the Listach thing on Monday when Bobby comes back?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Biggio,” I said.

“Biggio,” he said, with a sigh.

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s getting out of control.” I gave him the laundry list of offenses, and he was surprised.

“I knew he was stubborn, but this is too much. You have to say something,” he said.

“I have a strange idea,” I said. “Probably can’t do it, but I sure would like to see him try to manage the team.”

“What?” he said, incredulous.

“I’d like to take a lineup card, fill Bogar’s name in the two-hole. Hand it to him, and tell him the coaches and I were at his disposal. That if he wants to be the manager, I will hand it over to him, so he can see how he likes it.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I would seriously like to try it, but not without your approval. My fear is the press. They find out and drive the wedge between us, and it’s curtains.”

I know Gerry is sensitive to the media, and I killed my own idea — which I secretly wanted to kill anyway — by suggesting a media circus. I think I just wanted someone to think about him down there on the hot seat, and of the poetic justice that might be done there.

“There’s just no way we could keep this out of the media.” Gerry said. “I appreciate your dilemma, but I think you have to just talk to him. You have to tell him who is boss. And you have to appeal to his sense of the team concept and winning. You’re good with words. Let me know how it comes out. I’ll support you all the way.”

This was about 1:30. Cubby was coming at 2. I was pacing around the house like an expectant father, trying to come up with just the right words. I struck upon the idea of a fatherly reference to get me started. My stomach was twisted in knots.

           

When we got to the ballpark, Bidge was not there yet. He usually comes in about 2:30 or 3. I prepared some notes. Went over my sequence of offenses. Categorized them.  Tried to anticipate his response. Should I have someone bring him in, or should I seek him out?

I wasn’t nearly as mad as I had been the night before. In fact, I wasn’t mad at all; just afraid that I might make things worse by using the power play. But what else could I do? If we continue down this path, it will be anarchy by the All-Star break.

I walked through the training room and saw the Sanders brothers, our Internet consultants, in Dave Labossiere’s office. They are not frequent visitors to the clubhouse, so I asked them what they were up to. They said they were waiting to do a chat session with Biggio at 3:30.

“Great,” I said, feeling anything but great. This session would last at least half an hour. If Bidge came in right now, I couldn’t meet with him before 3:30. From my limited experience with chat sessions, I knew there would be plenty of disappointed Biggio fans if he was not on the Net as scheduled.

When he came in, he popped his head in the coaches’ room and asked why he wasn’t in the lineup. “I need to talk to you about that later,” I said. “After your chat session.”

I ended up waiting until 4:30. By that time, everyone was out on the field.

“C’mon in and close the door,” I said.

He pulled up a chair. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Well, first of all, you are not in the lineup because I’m the manager of this team, and you need to know that.”

He gave me a quizzical look – a look I would see a lot in the next half-hour.

“Listen,” I continued, “this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do as a manager, by far. I have so much respect for your accomplishments, your intensity, your focus, your willingness to play hurt. All of these things are critical to our team. Put more simply, we can’t win without you. And I will use you tonight to win this game. I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face. 

“But several things have been building from spring training on that threaten my ability to lead this team. Things that everyone can see.”

I went over the list of offenses. He was mostly quiet. A couple of times he objected, pleading innocence. The general tone was civilized, but he kept giving me that “Who, me?” look.

“Look,” I said. “There is no way you can know how I feel, sitting here, but it’s almost like a father-and-son thing.

“Let’s say Connor (his son) is in the kitchen, and you ask him to take out the trash. What if he said, ‘Not now, Dad. This isn’t a good time for me to do that.’ How would you feel? Well, that’s how I feel if you ignore a sign. Especially a sign about playing in or back when we’re hollering to get your attention. Everyone in the dugout saw us motion you back last night, and you just kept playing in.”

He protested again. Said he didn’t see us. I suppose that this is possible, because I look at things and don’t see them sometimes when my mind is otherwise occupied. But in this case, he should be looking for a sign.

“Look, I’m not saying I’m always right. But I am aware of the situation, and I have my own thoughts about what to do. You have your thoughts, and I appreciate you sharing them with me. But make it after the game — or better yet, the next day, after the heat of the competition wears off.”

“The important thing for me is that you accept the signs without overriding them. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. But at least we’re together. If everyone starts doing their own thing, we’re finished.

“Is that all?” he asked, still not admitting anything.

“Not quite,” I said. “I remember when I was playing, we thought the coaches and managers were just a bunch of old guys. We put more faith in the words and actions of our veteran teammates.

“I recall how you used to hang around Buddy Bell, Billy Doran, and Nolan Ryan. You told me one time that you just liked to keep your mouth shut and let it all soak in. Well, you picked some excellent guys for role models and teachers.

“Now, you are the role model. The reason I wanted you to come to the cage for the bunt drill yesterday is that I thought your presence would make the drill seem important. If you said something, like, ‘hey, this will get us some extra bags, guys. Let’s go,’ it would really help send a message. As it was, you came and worked on it on your own, which was probably unnecessary. What I wanted was your presence in front of the other guys.

“This is the whole point of this meeting. I need your help. I need you to be a model for the other guys. You make a perfect model in the physical sense. But in other areas, you could do better.

“Look, there are a lot of guys on this team that could do things better. There are guys who are not giving it their full effort, and you know who they are. But what good would it do me to talk to them? They don’t care about this as much as you do, or as much as I do.

“They may not have the capacity to change; you do. You can be a better teammate and team player. You can be a part of the solution, instead of being part of the problem. That’s all I have to say.”

Throughout this monolog, Bidge affected the look of surprise. He apparently feels he is innocent of most of the charges. But at least we didn’t get into a shouting match. If anything, my voice was muted and his reactions were, too.

We got up and he shook my hand and said, “Thank you.”

Until then, I wasn’t so sure my message was getting through.  Now I felt better about it.

The feeling didn’t last long.

 

When I got down to the field, our number-one draft pick, Lance Berkman from Rice University, was in the cage taking BP with the extra men. A throng of mediaphyles surrounded the cage.

I was feeling a little weary from the meeting with Bidge. No rest for me. The media was upon me like ducks on bread. I have to admit, their beaks have been blunt this year. They haven’t broken the skin yet.

After talking to writers and radio and TV reporters, I went to the outfield to talk to Berkman. He seemed a friendly fellow. His coach at Rice is an old friend, Wayne Graham. Wayne told me that Lance is a nice guy and a good worker. I found him to be friendly, not overly eager or awestruck, which is a good sign.

           

The game was perhaps our worst of the year. Donne Wall started by giving up two home runs in the first inning. The Pirates’ starter, John Lieber, was wild. He walked five batters, but we couldn’t get a key hit. We lost the game 8-3.

I inserted Biggio as a pinch-hitter about midway through the game. He went 0-2, and he was really pissed when he tapped lightly to first base after hitting a foul home run his second time up. I couldn’t draw any conclusion from that; he gets mad all the time.

 

After the game, Gerry and I told Ray Montgomery that we were going to put him on the disabled list. He didn’t object, which is a sign that his arm injury is bothering him a lot.

When the writers came in to talk about the game, Gerry started by announcing the Montgomery/Carr move. This turned the topic of the night away from our dismal performance, and toward our hope for the immediate future. It was probably more a stroke of luck than genius.

 

When I got home, Judy was up, and I told her all about the Biggio conference. I don’t always share my thoughts on baseball with her, though I probably should. She is a wise counselor. Perhaps she will get a chance to go jogging with Patty Biggio in Chicago. Perhaps she will be able to explain my feelings, and they will get back to Craig via the back door.

I had trouble getting sleepy. We packed, and Judy went to bed. My stomach was all in knots, and my neck and back were stiff and sore. If I had to do this very often, the job would lose some of its appeal.

I don’t think it will happen often, though, because Bidge is a special guy. He has been one of my favorites, which made the whole episode much more painful.

MONDAY, JUNE 23 ● Houston, vs Pittsburgh

Ryan had a basketball camp this morning, so I played golf. I stunk up the front nine, as usual.  I was thinking that I should start keeping scorecards, so that I could prove how badly I am playing, to those who have seen me better and do not want to offer any strokes.

Then I shot a 36 on the back. Two birdies, two bogies. I guess that’s why I have trouble asking for strokes. I never know when I might start playing well, and I don’t want to do it after I have pleaded incompetence. I’d rather lose a few dollars.

I got home in time to have my favorite sandwich: a Judy D. signature special. Tomatoes, avocado, onions, and cheese, all melted together on toasted sourdough.

This day was starting out well, and I was in a jovial mood when Cubby came by at 2.

A few of the players were there early, so I asked them to practice the fake-bunt-and-steal play. Ausmus, Bogar, and Mouton participated. I asked Biggio to join us, but he was reading the paper. He sort of nodded, and I assumed he would come along, but he didn’t show up until all the other players were finished. I was hoping he would come right away, to lend credence to the drill.

Gerry came by to review our options with regard to bringing Chucky Carr up from New Orleans. He wants to make the move on Wednesday. His preference is to send down Mouton. He also mentioned releasing Listach, or putting Montgomery on the disabled list.

I favor the Montgomery move; Bill and Cubby are ready to bid Listach adieu. We didn’t make a decision, but we will have to make one tomorrow.

           

The Pirates dampened my enthusiasm in a hurry. Actually, it wasn’t so much the Pirates, but their starting pitcher, Francisco Cordóba. This guy has a great sinker and a deceptive, slow slider. He made Bagwell look like a busher; he made everyone look bad.

I still thought we would beat him, even after Jose Guillén hit a solo homer in the fifth. Ramón Garcia was handing the Bucs with ease; he just made a mistake with a changeup.

We still had five more at-bats. Not to worry. The worrying started in the eighth, when Guillén led off with a triple. It was a high fly ball that Derek Bell would have caught if he was playing back — as he should have been — or if he had gotten a good jump and ran hard — as he should have — but he didn’t do either. He just jogged back and played it off the wall.

At this point, it seemed like we could not afford to let them score even one run. But how to stop them?

I went to the mound to tell Garcia and Ausmus to pitch around shortstop Kevin Polcovich. “He’s only walked four times all year. Throw him breaking stuff away and high fastballs,” I suggested.

That didn’t work so well. Garcia did as he was told, and Polcovich walked on four pitches. I felt like Chief was just about spent, so I brought Lima into the game.           

“Be aware of the squeeze,” I said. “If he tries to steal second, throw him out.”

Lima got ahead in the count 0-2, but then Cordoba started taking pitches and fouling off pitches. He was hitting .067, but he finally drew a walk.

I went to the mound again. Tony Womack was the hitter. I told the infielders to play close enough to get the runner at the plate on a slow-hit ball. “This guy us going to be tough to double,” I said.

Well, Lima took care of that; he struck him out.

Now the batter was Jermaine Allensworth. He is a pretty good hitter, and I didn’t want the infield all the way in. I wanted them closer than double-play depth, so they could throw home. But I also wanted them deep-enough and close-enough to the bag to turn the double play.

Biggio looked in. We gave him the halfway sign. He stared at us, then played in. We motioned him back again. He played in again.

Poor Bogar. He didn’t know what to do. Should he play the same as Biggio, or should he play where Cubby wanted him?

None of it mattered, because Allensworth hit the third pitch down the leftfield line for a bases-clearing double. The Bucs added two more runs before they went out.

The only consolation was another good outing for Chief, and the return to form of John Hudek, who pitched a scoreless ninth. Cordoba finished with a two-hitter. 

           

Afterward, I was about as mad as I get. This time, I didn’t snap at the press corps. I did go into the coaches’ room afterward to talk about Biggio and Bell.

Ash was in the bullpen, down the right field line. He said Derek should have caught the ball.

As for Biggio not taking direction, there was unanimous support of a trip to the woodshed. I saw him in the lunchroom later, but I decided to save it for tomorrow.

I have this devilish idea. But first I’ll have to clear it with Gerry.

I want to dress him down, then tell him that the next time he pulls a stunt like not showing up for a practice session, or not reacting to defensive-positioning signs, he will ride the bench. But he will not just ride the bench; he will have to manage the team. I think about one day of that should cure him of his superiority complex.

It would be just my luck that he would get a well-pitched game, and we would score a lot of runs early, so he wouldn’t have to make any tough decisions. Of course, if that happened, I could just keep him on the bench until he lost one.

I know you think I’m crazy as you read this, but I have also heard many, many players respond to heckling fans by saying, “If you think it’s so damned easy, why don’t you get a bat and come down here and try it?”

I’m pretty sure Bidge would find out that it is not that easy.

SUNDAY, JUNE 22 ● Houston, vs Cubs

I arose at 8:15 this morning, feeling a little groggy. Mike Myers and Pat Combs of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes had arranged to interview me for KSEV Radio at 8:20. I mumbled my way through it, which wasn’t too difficult. Mike likes to talk, so I let him do most of it.

Cubby came by at 9:15. Ryan came with us today. After I got the lineup card ready, I took Ryan down on the field.

“How come it’s so dark in here?” he asked.

“Because they’re saving money on electricity,” I explained. “They’ll turn them on when batting practice starts.”

“Is that why it’s so hot in here?” he asked.

“You got it, buddy,” I said. “It takes a lot of money to pay Biggio and Bagwell. They try to save money any way they can.”

Ryan threw really well today. He didn’t have great control, but his fastball, curve, and changeup all had good rotation and speed.

After we threw, I hit him some ground balls. He was surprisingly agile around first base. I guess all the time he has spent on the Select team this summer is paying off. I’ve never seen him look so natural with the glove. I even hit a few balls hard; he stayed right in there and caught them.

We watched batting practice from the bench, then attended chapel with some of the players, including ex-Astros outfielder Terry Puhl and his son Curtis.

 

Mike Hampton pitched his best game of the year and even got the win, 3-1. Bagwell got us all the runs we needed with a two-run opposite-field homer in the first. I know he is really locked in when he starts hitting long balls the other way — especially in the cavernous Dome. 

We added an unearned run in the third. After that, Hampton took us to the ninth with a 3-0 lead. Ryne Sandberg opened the Cubs’ ninth with a double. I didn’t want this win to get away, and I really wanted Hampton to get the W. So I brought Billy Wagner into the game, and Kevin Orie greeted him with a double. The tying run came to the plate, but never got beyond it; Wagner set down the next three hitters.

SATURDAY, JUNE 21 ● Houston, vs Cubs

Here we go again. Up and at ’em. Got to rise-and-shine for the Network. The East Coast game starts at 1 p.m., so we have to start at noon Central Time.

We did not take batting practice, but the pitchers did work on their fake-bunt move and the hitters gathered with Mac to talk about being unselfish: moving runners with outs, making the opposing pitcher elevate his pitches with the infield playing in. He also told the players about some of Stanky’s baserunning and bunt plays. I was told that these sessions went well.

At the time, Gerry and I met with Drayton in my office. He gave us a videotape of the movie Twelve O’clock High, and told us that it was a great movie about leadership.

“It shows how one officer was too loose and let things get away from him, and another officer who was too strict. After you watch it, I’ll talk to you about the lessons you learned.”

I haven’t watched it yet, but my first impression is that it is a movie about leadership under stress and the problems with being too lax or too rigid.

           

This afternoon’s matinee was neither loose nor rigid; it was just right. Another unstressful 7-3 victory.

We scored in the first inning again. Two runs this time. A Bagwell double and a Bell single drove them in, but a hit-and-run groundout by Listach helped set the table. Chris Holt made the call and flirted with disaster but didn’t get the date. He bobbed and weaved and took a few punches. Came out of it in the seventh with a 6-3 lead.

I made a good move in that frame, even though I thought I had made a mistake. With a man on third and one out, Jim Riggleman sent Dave Hansen up to pinch-hit. I wanted to go with Mike Magnante against the top of their lineup. I figured Mike would be all right against Hansen, because Dave seldom sees a lefthanded pitcher. I really prefer Mike against righthanded hitters because of his spitball. 

I had my back to the plate, facing Mike on the mound, with Biggio and Bogar right there.

“Okay, he’s going to pinch-hit with a righthander,” I said. “Who is it?”

“Hernandez,” Biggio said.

“Perfect,” I said.

 As I walked back to the dugout, I realized that I didn’t hear Hansen being announced. I was hoping he had been, but I should have been sure. I shouldn’t have changed pitchers until I heard that announcement.

Luckily for me, Hansen had been announced. He was burned (replaced without coming to bat) and Hernandez got a sacrifice fly to drive in their third run, but Magnante went on to finish the game. We didn’t even have to warm up Wagner. 

The only blemish on this game is that Gonzo’s streak came to an end. He went against Bob Patterson in the eighth and drew a walk. He was true to his word, going for the team instead of the glory. Sure, it was 6-3 and he could have tried to hit the 3-1 pitch, but he took it and ended up scoring our last run.

FRIDAY, JUNE 20 ● Houston, vs Cubs

Cubby came by at 2:00. He brought Chief over to play with Vesta and Babe. Babe is four months old, and she is really getting big. Swimming in the lake with Chief and wrestling with Vesta is the only thing that keeps her shapely, however.

I have never seen a dog more voracious. If Vesta leaves her food unguarded, even briefly, Babe is right there to finish it off. Then she sleeps like a baby.

It’s a dog’s life.

I was feeling a little dog-eared, myself. We are trying everything in creation to get a winning streak going.  Luis was quoted in the paper as saying, “I don’t care as much about keeping the streak going as us getting one going as a team.”

A typical comment by Gonzo. The difference is, he means it.

 

Tonight we were lucky on both fronts: Luis got his hit, and we got the win, 7-3.

Darryl Kile was tough again. He didn’t have great command of his pitches, but he still held the Cubs to three runs in seven innings. Bagwell and Bell homered. José Lima finished up in good style. It was a welcome win — especially for me, as I have been getting some bad vibrations.

We played uninspired baseball against the Twins and the Royals. I had no idea what the schizophrenic Cubs would bring to the Dome. And I had no idea why Gerry came by my office after the game with a grim face.

“We’ve got some problems,” he said. “Do you know about Montgomery?” he asked.

I said that I was aware that he had a sore elbow and shoulder. I did not think it was serious.

“The doctor thinks he might have a partial tear in his shoulder. If you had played him tonight, he wouldn’t have been able to throw.”

I had talked with Dave Labossiere, and he said that Montgomery could play if we needed him. I didn’t think Dave would forget to mention a player not being able to throw.

That was only part of our problem. Russ Springer was examined by the doctor as well. He is going on the disabled list too.

Vern came in, and we talked about possible replacements. We settled on John Hudek, who has been throwing well for Matt Galante in New Orleans. In addition, there is some concern that Chris Holt’s sore shoulder is getting worse, or at least not getting better. Holt is supposed to pitch tomorrow. Then Hampton. Things still look a little shaky.

At least we are at home. If we’re going to get a streak going, it will likely be here in the Dome.