Author: Larry Dierker

THURSDAY, JUNE 19 ● off-day in Houston

I was thinking about getting some new clothes and playing golf when I woke up this morning. Then I looked at the sports page and saw this headline:

McLANE PONDERS MOVE TO NL WEST

The realignment movement seems to have picked up steam with the apparent success of interleague play. There has been talk of several teams, including the Astros, changing leagues. Drayton has vowed not to allow the team to switch leagues. But I’m surprised he would consider a move to the NL West.

Most teams prefer to play the majority of their games in the Eastern or Central time zones, because of prime-time television rates. But Drayton wants to get into the same division with the Rangers any way he can. The Rangers don’t want to give up the DH to move to the National League, but they have expressed a willingness to consider this option.

From a personal standpoint, I would embrace the idea — especially if we go back to the unbalanced schedule, which it appears we might. That would have us play three series with each team on the West Coast. It would give me an extra trip to LA to see Mom. It would mean more games in California — and more importantly, fewer in the cities where it can be way too hot or way too cold.

 

I met Dick Hite at Norton Ditto and picked up some new slacks and shirts. Then we hit the links. I didn’t hit the ball very well, but I putted lights-out for an 82. It was encouraging just to shoot a decent score, but I still can’t find the range with my driver and my irons.

Dick played college golf, so his criteria for success is a little tougher than mine. He shot 78 and was upset with himself for hitting four or five bad shots. We did manage to beat the guys we were betting against.

At this point, I’ll take a win any way I can get one.

 

After golf, we met a sales rep from our flagship radio station and talked about The Baseball Library, my series of stories about the game. She was trying to sell Dick on the idea of becoming a sponsor. But he is already spending $7,000 a month on the billboard. He was more interested in introducing the two of us, hoping I could help her sell it to somebody else. 

It’s funny: now that I have the manager’s job, all the little things I used to do to enhance my salary seem unimportant. It would be nice to sell the show, but I would just as soon spend whatever time I have left, after managing and writing, with Judy and Ryan — or just take a little time out for myself.

Perhaps something will come of the Library. Like everything else, it probably depends on us winning the division. [2022 update: the Library is here.]

 

Dick’s wife Ginger joined Judy and me for dinner at a little Italian restaurant. After eating, we played a couple games of bocce.  When I got home, I flipped on ESPN and learned that the Pirates lost again; we were alone in first place. How lucky can you get? We have played .400 baseball for the last 50 games, and we are still on top.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 18 ● Kansas City, vs Royals

I shook up the lineup today. I told Gerry that I was inclined to see if we could play better defense with Tim Bogar at short and Pat Listach in center field. We certainly couldn’t play much worse. We could, however, hit worse.

There are few clearcut choices in this business.

Bogey made two fine plays tonight — plays that our other shortstops may not have been able to make. Listach didn’t get any fly balls in center. Bogey got a bloop single, and Pat had a sacrifice bunt and a single. But we lost 6-2 to a pitcher named Jim Pittsley, who came into the game with an ERA above 6.00.

After the game, I was asked why we can’t hit pitchers we haven’t seen before.

“I don’t know,” I said. “These other teams haven’t seen him either, and they hit him all over the yard. Give him credit, though. His biggest problem has been walks, and he didn’t walk anyone.”

Donne Wall walked Jay Bell in the first after consecutive singles by José Offerman and Thomas Goodwin. Then Jeff King hit a homer. The game was over before we even got an out.

At the time, I wasn’t concerned. I thought we would score a lot of runs, as we had the night before. Now I don’t know what to think.

Maybe I should just go with a set lineup, and ride it out. That would be a lot easier to do if the defense was good, but it’s barely adequate.

At least Luis Gonzalez hit for the twenty-second consecutive game. One more and he’ll tie Art Howe’s team record.

           

Gerry came by after the game to tell me that Chucky Carr was about to start playing again, and we may be able to call him up by the beginning of next week. At this point, I’m ready to try anything.

One thing I have learned is that players like to know where they stand, even if they don’t like it. Before the game, I found Ricky Gutierrez down at the end of the bench and took the opportunity to tell him that he would be sitting for a while and that Bogey would be getting some starts at short. He didn’t get flaming mad; didn’t even raise his voice. But he did express his frustration.

“Every year, it’s somebody else,” he said. “I think I’m getting better, and I can play every day. But I didn’t have spring training. I’m just now getting more comfortable. Now I have to sit again. If you just let me play, I can do the job.”

I didn’t have a good response. Just told him we wanted to see what Bogey can do. That it is not permanent. That he should keep working with Gene Coleman on his footwork.

“It’s not about hitting,” I said. “I know you can hit. This is about defense. Your range has improved, but you need to be a little quicker with your footwork so that you can get rid of the ball faster.”

No amount of reasoning makes any sense in a deal like this. All I could do was tell him that it is not fun for me to tell a guy that he is going to be benched.

“This game is a lot of fun when we win,” I said. “But when we get to going like this, it is tough on everybody. Just keep working hard. You still have a chance to be the everyday shortstop. After the All-Star game, we will look at the team and try to come up with a regular lineup.”      

Gerry was watching from the other end of the bench.

“I could tell from the body language,” he said. “He didn’t take it too well, did he?”

“No,” I said.  “But he was decent about it. I’m not looking forward to telling Tank and Mouton that Pat is going to play center for a while.”

If we could just get hot and run off eight or ten wins, all of these little irritations would go unnoticed in the communal spirit.

 

At least we lost fast. We should get back to Houston a little early, right?

Wrong.

Our plane was late. We had to wait an extra hour at the ballpark before departing. We have the day off tomorrow, and I will endeavor to keep baseball out of my thoughts. 

Yeah, right!

TUESDAY, JUNE 17 ● Kansas City, vs Royals

Life on the road is luxurious for Judy. She normally goes on a sleep-deprivation program when I am at home, staying up with me after the game and getting up early with Ryan. Last night we slept nine hours!

I wrote about last night’s game this morning, because I couldn’t stand to think about it last night. It didn’t play out that well this morning, either.

 

Judy read the paper while I wrote, then we took off for the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum at 18th and Vine. This is an interesting neighborhood. Looks like a slum in the making, until you go inside the museum and look at the old photographs.

Actually, the neighborhood is on the upswing again. Jackhammers and saws testified to the renewal. The photographs showed a three-story brick building that was once Matlaw’s clothing store. Matlaw’s once dispensed the finest threads in town to the ballplayers and fans who dressed “to the nines” on the occasion of a Negro League game.  The neighborhood was the center of nightlife back then, and there are still jazz and blues clubs nearby.

A row of buildings along Vine has already been restored. This work was done by Robert Altman for his film Kansas City. Now the adjacent buildings along 18th are getting a facelift. In the fall, the Museum is moving from its current location to more-spacious quarters across the street.

We toured the exhibits. For Judy, the story of Blacks in baseball was fascinating. For me, the fascination was with the photographs and equipment displays. They sort of filled in the blanks of a story I already knew.

We ran into some fans from Houston, and soon the word got out that the manager of the Astros was there. Curator Raymond Doswell introduced himself and shared some insights into the Museum and the exhibits.

Don Motley, a longtime scout and coach in this area, spent some time with us. His brother Bob was one of the first Black umpires, and there is a locker with his gear on display. These days, Don still does some coaching, but his attention is on his grandson Brittan, who was recently signed by the Padres.

There is no mistaking a baseball man. His words will give him away in an instant. Don is one of these. His love of the sport oozes from every pore. And he is so proud of Brittan, he can hardly stand it. He kept talking about Brittan’s exploits, and appended each episode with, “and he’s a really good kid.”

“What was his name again?” I asked. “I want to be sure I know him when I see him in San Diego.”  

           

Another story Don shared really tickled me. Seems his brother Bob tossed Buck O’Neil out of a game. That night there was a shortage of rooms, and they had to sleep in the same bed. “I still say you can’t see.” As he turned out the light, Buck mumbled, “I still say you can’t see.”

Buck O’Neil was the most-impressive character in Ken Burns’ documentary Baseball. His sunny personality, charming manner of speaking, and animated facial expressions were the perfect counterpoint to the film’s somber tale of bigotry.

Even as he spoke of the indignities he suffered in the Negro Leagues, Buck’s face glowed with the fondness of his memories. I might add, he was one helluva ballplayer.

I will always treasure a quote that appears in his biography I Was Right on Time:

There is nothing greater for a human being than to get his body to react to all the things one does on a ballfield. It’s as good as sex, it’s as good as music. It fills you up.   

Hal McRae once said, “Buck just makes you feel good. You might be blue, you might be in a slump, but a few minutes with Buck and the world is a wonderful place.

“Do you know what he is? He’s the guiding light.”

           

We ended up spending more time at the Museum than we had intended, and when I got to the ballpark, I was not right on time: I was late. We were taking extra hitting, and Mac did not allow the players to play Home Run Derby; he made them work on situational hitting. Hitting to the right side to move a runner. Bunting. Hitting a fly ball with a man on third. That sort of thing.

Afterward, we talked about situational running. Hitting-and-running. Running-and-bunting. Moving up on balls in the dirt. A lot of things Mac learned playing with the White Sox under Eddie Stanky.

“Why don’t we get some of the players in early and talk to them about these things?” I said. “I’ve already encouraged some of them to do the plays you’re talking about, but my hunch is that they don’t think I know what I’m talking about, because I was a pitcher. Coming from you, it will have more impact.”

“I don’t know if they’ll listen to me either, skipper,” Mac said. “But when we played for Stanky, we had to listen. We all had one-year contracts.

“But I’ll tell you this: it works. We’d always be in the race, with a weak-hitting team. We’d get outhit 9-5 and win 4-3. I had ten different signs for plays we ran. It was the same way with Tommy Agee and Al Weis. You talk about manufacturing runs? We didn’t talk about it. We did it.”

Naturally, we didn’t manufacture anything tonight.

We couldn’t get Derek to stop talking to the Royals’ infielders long enough to give him a hit-and-run sign or a steal sign. I guess his attitude now is to ignore the third-base coach, so he doesn’t miss a sign.

At any rate, we didn’t need “little ball” because we played “big ball.” Derek was in the middle of it, with three hits. Ramón Garcia, with his mother recovering from heart surgery at Methodist Hospital in Houston, pitched five shutout innings. We won 10-2.

Clearly, we did not need the two extra runs Derek should have scored. First, he was thrown out at the plate when he loafed around the bases on Sean Berry’s double off the centerfield wall. Then he broke back to second on Berry’s line single up the middle. If he had known where Jose Offerman was playing, he would have broken for third and scored easily on Thomas Goodwin’s weak throw. As it was, Cubby had to stop him at third.

We did not need those runs tonight. But what about tomorrow? And what about Berry? He lost two RBI in the process.

I guess I’m going to have to talk to Derek tomorrow. This is getting old.

           

After the game, Drayton came down with David Glass, the owner of the Royals and his chief antagonist. Our timing couldn’t have been better. We stunk it up last night, and Glass would have stuck more than a few needles into Drayton. Drayton’s going back to Houston tomorrow for a meeting with the mayor on the stadium lease issue, so Glass will have no chance for revenge.

Drayton was proud as a peacock. He introduced Glass to Biggio, Bagwell, and a few other players. I really enjoy seeing him happy. So many times, the problems we have had on the field and at the gate have dampened his enthusiasm.

           

Gerry came in after I talked with the reporters. We discussed the upcoming Fox games with the Cubs and the Pirates. Fox wants to put a microphone on the manager, so they can broadcast the private conversations in the dugout. I am adamantly opposed to this. It really makes me mad. I already declined this proposal earlier this season.

Now Fox has stepped up the pressure: they have convinced Major League Baseball to make miking mandatory. If you don’t do it, your team is fined $100,000. This is so preposterous that if it didn’t affect me personally, I would think it was funny. Because we cannot control our expenses and depend so mightily on the Fox network, we have, in effect, made a deal with the devil.

Think about it: I’m talking to Vern about a possible pitching change.

“I don’t want this guy,” I say. “I don’t like his chances against so-and-so.”

Now this guy’s wife hears this on the broadcast and asks her husband, “Why can’t you get so-and-so out?”

Where does this put Vern and me?

What if we are considering a squeeze play and I tell Bill, “Let’s do it if the count goes 2-1.” Then the other team’s pitching coach goes to the mound.

In the meantime, one of the opposing players runs down from the clubhouse and says, “they’re going to squeeze on the 2-1 count.”

We have been assured that they won’t broadcast any foul language, but they have already broadcast a Joe Torre expletive.

I understand what they want to do. There is no question it would make for a more-interesting telecast. But I ask this question: How would the president of Fox Sports like a camera and a microphone in his office during meetings and phone conversations? There are some things that need to remain private.

I have agreed to have a mike on Alan Ashby in the bullpen. If we have to mike someone in the dugout, there will be one of two things: constant cursing or mechanical failure.

Gerry feels exactly the same way, but we still don’t know what we are going to do about it.

MONDAY, JUNE 16 ● Kansas City, vs Royals

Our first impression of Kansas City is the Ritz Carlton and the Plaza Neighborhood. For some reason, I did not preconceive this city to be charming, but that is the first word that comes to mind. Charming, cosmopolitan, stylish — all words I did not expect to use.

Maybe I have spent too much time in downtown St Louis. Maybe I expected earthy, honest, and traditional. Maybe that is how I perceived the entire Midwest.

This neighborhood in Kansas City is up-to-date, in a retro-trendy kind of way. I’ll just say it’s a lot more interesting than St Louis — the Gateway Arch notwithstanding.

We had lunch at a sidewalk café. The food wasn’t up to expectations, but we enjoyed the passing parade. Judy took off on a sightseeing tour. She loves to explore new places by herself. I went back to the room, to work on scouting reports.

We took a cab to the ballpark at 2:00. The cabbie told us there was high water between the hotel and the stadium, so he would have to take us a roundabout way. This I perceived to be a bunch of bullshit. And when we took the bus home after the game, my notion was confirmed. This sort of sophistication goes beyond urbane and into the realm of urban decay.

At least he told us he was going the long way. In New York, they just do it.

           

Kauffman Stadium is a delight. The clubhouse is commodious, and the manager’s quarters ample. The only thing that betrays the 25 years of its existence is the shower stall. The nozzle must have been designed for short guys like Earl Weaver — or some other Earl from centuries past. The spray hit me in the chest.

That was the end. Let me start at the beginning of this most pregnant day of baseball.

 

I addressed the team before batting practice. I asked them to gather around, but Derek chose to sit in his locker behind me. I started by saying that though I wanted them to think for themselves, it was not acceptable to ignore signs because you think you have a better idea. I mentioned the situation where Derek did not run on the 3-1 count, but I did not name him as the culprit.

I also reiterated my position that we should get a good lead and a good jump on 3-1 and 3-2 pitches and on hit-and-run plays. I felt like I was staring at mostly blank faces, but I saw some signs of approval.

Oddly enough, Thomas Howard was nodding yes as I spoke. One thing I have learned is that you can’t judge a ballplayer by his outward demeanor. It’s the book-by-its-cover adage.

I recall players insinuating that young Willie McCovey was lazy, because he didn’t seem to hustle. He just moseyed along — for 25 years — playing day-after-day on his way to the Hall of Fame. By the time he retired, he was a role model. The last word anyone would have used to describe him was lazy.

Anyway, I am still perplexed by Howard. Sometimes it seems he doesn’t give a damn — like he’s a mercenary ballplayer, a hired gun. Other times, it seems he is a confident and determined ballplayer: a guy who doesn’t bullshit, but lets his bat do the talking. When I do spend some time with him, he seems intelligent and dedicated.

As my speech went on, I meandered into the part about improving our fundamentals by doing short practice sessions before batting practice at home. Gerry was standing in the back of the room. The players were caught between us.

I asked them what they thought, but they didn’t — couldn’t — say much.

           

When we broke into groups, I went with the pitchers and catchers, because I wanted to make sure Vern mentioned that Jose Offerman and Jeff King were swinging hot bats. I also wanted him to mention the running game that the Royals employ. After speaking with him, I went back to the position-players meeting, and joined it in progress.

Seems Derek took charge, and he was in mid-diatribe. What he said made almost no sense at all. There was a common thread, however: we should have a set lineup. The rest of it was the incoherent ramblings of a chastised child. At least that’s the way I took it.

If I hadn’t mentioned not running on the 3-1 pitch, I don’t think he would have spoken. But I’m glad he did. The other players didn’t pay much attention to him. It is not an admirable trait to make excuses when you are not performing. The players favor deeds to words. 

But at least Derek got his emotions out in the open. I’m in favor of venting, and I thanked him for his honesty and asked if anyone else wanted to speak. When no one else came forward, I asked Mac what he thought about a set lineup. He said he favored it. Said it would be good if we could find eight guys who complemented one another. Then he issued a challenge to stick to the fundamentals.

“If we had guys who could bunt, hit-and-run, move runners from second to third, get them home from third with one out, we wouldn’t have to worry about set lineups. We would be winning, and everyone would be happy.

“Take the last road trip, for example. We were 4-4, but if we executed the fundamentals properly, we would have been 6-2 minimum. That’s my concern. Not the lineup. Fundamental hitting.”

“As long as we’re doing this,” Bill said, “I’ve got something to say that has been building up inside me for the last few weeks.” He raised his voice, and his face got red. There was no pretense of hiding the anger.

“I’ve got the ass. I admit it. But I’m tired of guys on this team worrying about what everyone else is doing.

“He can manage,” he said, pointing to me. “We can coach. Derek, you’re the last person that should criticize someone else. You aren’t even doing your own job.

“And that goes for everyone — even if you are doing a good job. It goes for Bidge, Bags, everyone. If you just do your own job and do it well, we won’t have any problems. I know I’m pissed, and I don’t care, because this needs to be said. There are too many guys worried about somebody else. Do your own job. That is all you have to do.

“We have a good club. But we aren’t going to be worth a shit if all we do is worry about everyone else. Do your own damn job. That’s all you have to do.”

There was a brief pause. Then he continued, “Okay, let’s go over the outfield positioning. Offerman: Play him shallow and slightly to the off field … ”

I was so grateful to Bill for showing this emotion, and for saying what I should have said myself. He is normally a stoic guy, and when he went off, he really got everyone’s attention.

It didn’t seem to carry over into the game.  We failed to get Biggio over to third after his leadoff double, failed to get him in. Later, we fouled up a big inning with bad baserunning. Then we gave them a four-run seventh when we did not have the range at shortstop and in center to make the plays that could have held them scoreless.

These were not misplays; they were evidence of a structural weakness that we identified in spring training. We simply do not have a good defensive centerfielder or shortstop. It is hard to pitch around those two positions — especially when third base is a little shaky too.

I had another case of bullheadedness in the seventh when I brought Russ Springer in to pitch, with men on first and third and on out.

“Don’t worry about Goodwin,” I said. “We are not going to throw through. Don’t worry about the runner at third. If he scores, we’re still tied. Just blow these next two guys away. Blow it by them. You’re the man for the job. Strike them out. Pop them up. If they hit a fly ball and the run scores, so be it. But if you get the next two hitters, the worst thing that could happen is that we will be tied up.”

In my mind, these were specific instructions to try to throw fastballs by Jay Bell and Jeff King. It might not have worked, but I’ll never know.

Brad Ausmus had a “better” idea. He wanted to trick them by throwing cut fastballs and curve balls away from the hitters. Springer followed his catcher, right down the primrose path. He walked Bell and fell behind King. Then he had to throw King fastballs, and he nearly got the third strike by him, but Brad couldn’t hold the foul tip.

On the next pitch, King doubled to center. The ball should have been caught for a sacrifice fly, but James Mouton turned the wrong way. Two runs scored. Springer walked Chili Davis. Tom Martin came in and gave up a single to Johnny Damon. We lost 5-2. 

Talk is cheap. But I plan to do a little more of it tomorrow. This time it will not be meetings, but individual chat sessions with Springer and Ausmus.

SUNDAY, JUNE 15 ● FATHER’S DAY ● Houston, vs Minnesota

I thought about my Dad when Judy and the kids gave me my Father’s Day card and a Hawaiian golf shirt this morning. He wasn’t much of a golfer, nor was he much of a beach fan. He did like Hawaiian shirts, however. I guess he liked to loosen up after a hard day’s work. He was always a hard worker.

I thought about how nice it would be if we could win a championship this year, and I could mention him on TV in front of the whole country.

           

When I got to the ballpark, I met with the coaches. They were generally disinclined to start practicing fundamentals before batting practice.

“Tell him to get us a shortstop and a centerfielder,” Mac said. “It’s not fundamentals we’re lacking, it’s ability. You have to have the horses.”

Bill’s opinion was that we would lose the team if we started having punitive workouts.

“If we drop out of the race, it’ll be different,” he said. “Then we won’t care how they feel. But we’re still in the race, and I think we should save our energy for the game. I think they take too much batting practice as it is.”

Cubby didn’t think workouts would be well-received.

“You’ve got to understand, this is a different brand of ballplayer,” he said. “It’s not like when we played. These guys do whatever the hell they want to, and if you put any heat on them, they call their agents. I’ve had superstars shit on me more than once, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

When we met with Gerry later on, we struck a compromise plan. It stemmed from Bill reminding us that in spring training fundamental drills, a lot of players are just standing around waiting for their turn.

“I don’t think you want a lot of guys out here standing around,” he said.

“What if we worked in smaller groups?” Gerry asked.

This idea struck a chord.

We already have Ricky Gutierrez doing exercises to improve his footwork. We have Sean Berry on a program designed specifically for his shoulder problem. Why not bring starting pitchers out to bunt at game speed against a pitching machine?

What about designing a drill for our fake-bunt/steal-a-base routine? It worked well at first, but then we abandoned it because the bunters were not executing the move like Tim Foli.

What about a pickoff-play drill? A bunt-play drill? What about working with some of the outfielders who have problems going up against the wall? What about full-speed bunting practice for some of our better runners?

I think these things make sense, and I hope the players will buy into it. If we have a 20-minute drill every day we are at home, and it only involves 4-7 players, it shouldn’t be such an imposition or a drag on much-needed game energy.

I am going to announce this program in Kansas City tomorrow night. We will start it on the next homestand.

Cubby made another suggestion, based on feedback that Biggio wasn’t getting enough fielding practice.

“He always takes grounders during the first group, then sits on the bench during the next group. If I throw to the first group, I can’t hit to him. He doesn’t want to catch grounders in the second group. I guess that doesn’t fit his personal program.

“If we went to 15-minute sessions, he could field in the first or second group and he would only rest on the bench for 15 minutes. This would also have the benefit of having fewer hitters in each group, which would allow everyone more time for their preparation in the field.” 

“Do you see any problem in this for the outfielders, Bill?” I asked.

“Not at all,” he said.

“How about you, Mac?”

“No problem.”

I felt pretty good about these changes. I hope the players will feel good about them too.

           

The game was tough again. It started like déjà vu.

Knoblauch walked; Lawton hit a home run. Like Kile, Chris Holt stiffened and held them scoreless until we pinch-hit for him in the seventh.

José Lima pitched better than ever, retiring five consecutive batters before Knoblauch singled, bringing Lawton to the plate.

I went to Wagner. Tom Kelly went to Greg Colbrunn. Colbrunn hit Wagner’s second pitch to third and Spiers, who played a brilliant all-around game, made the play.

With each passing inning, my respect grew for the Twins. No, they were not blessed with great speed or great power. Their pitchers didn’t throw very hard. But they were fundamentally sound. They simply did not do things to beat themselves.

In the ninth inning, they finally broke down. Eddie Guardado walked Derek Bell with one out. Mike Trombley came in and walked Sean Berry, hitting for Spiers. Then he walked Brad Ausmus on a 3-2 pitch.

With Listach hitting .180, we were still a long way from home. But Pat has been swinging a little better lately. I decided not to hit for him. At least he would have a better chance to beat the rap on a double-play grounder.

“We could squeeze here,” I told Bill. He smiled.

“That’s your call,” he said.

Normally the squeeze is employed only when there is a tag play at the plate. But with Derek Bell running, it wouldn’t take a perfect bunt to win the game.

“If the first pitch is ball one, let’s do it,” I said.

Well, wouldn’t you know, the first pitch was ball one. I was worried on two counts. First, Bell might miss the sign. Second, Pat might foul up the bunt. It’s a pressure play all the way. We’ve tried it three times this year, with two fouls and a missed sign.

This time, both players got the sign, and Pat popped up the bunt, down the third-base side. Terry Steinbach fired out from behind the plate, and was on it in a flash. But for some reason he simply dropped the ball. Bell sped by and scored the run — or did he?

Steinbach thought fast. He threw the ball to third, but Ausmus thought fast too — and ran fast and was safe at third.  If he had been out, the Twins would likely have turned the double play, because Listach, in his disgust over bunting poorly, wasn’t running to first. A third-to-first double play would have negated Bell’s winning run.

Talk about winning by the skin or your teeth!

We were lucky to say the least, but then, we had been hitting in bad luck all weekend long.

           

Now it’s off to Kansas City and a three-game set with the surprising Royals. Bob Boone’s team is two games below .500, but still in second place, just 3-1/2 games behind the Indians. I didn’t think the Twins were a good ballclub, and they were tough. I don’t expect the Royals to be any easier.

Judy is with me on this trip. Neither of us has been to Kansas City. We are looking forward to the visit.