Author: Larry Dierker

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 30 ● Montreal, vs Expos

I started feeling a little weak last night. I was hoping that scratchy feeling in my throat was just a bad cigar, or something. I was not surprised to wake up this morning with a full-fledged cold. A lot of the guys on the team have had it, but so far, none of the coaches.

I was hoping that it was a bug that attacked only the young, because it has been innocuous enough that no one has missed any action because of it.

Bill Brown called me at 9 a.m. We normally walk to the top of Mount Royal, enjoy the view of the city, then jog back down. I had to pass on this one, even though it was a pleasant day.

Fact is, I passed on everything, so I could save what energy I had for the game. Even so, I felt sort of foggy. I don’t know if it was the medicine Dave gave me or just the bug, but I felt about half an f-stop behind the action.

And there was plenty of action.

           

Darryl Kile had a rough go of it. He was consistently behind in the count, throwing fastballs. To his credit, he threw low strikes and got ground balls. Unfortunately, they all went through the infield for hits. The Expos got a run in the second, then we scored four off Carlos Pérez in the third. Montreal got another run in the third and three more in the fourth to take the lead.

At this point, we were one run down and D.K. had thrown 78 pitches. I decided to take him out of the game to save his arm, even though it could put stress on the bullpen.

Ramón Garcia got out of trouble, and looking back, we should have shut him down there and brought in José Lima. Lima hadn’t worked for three weeks, and he desperately needed to see some hitters. I was hoping for a game when we were way behind to run him out there.

I got my wish when I didn’t want it, because Chief didn’t have much left after pitching four innings two days ago; the Expos jumped him for three more runs.

Lima came in and got the last two outs, then pitched well in the sixth, and we came back with another run. Russ Springer kept the score that way until the ninth. He could have been a winner if Bagwell or Bell had come through with runners on second and third, but Baggy struck out and Bell went down on a broken-bat grounder, and we came up empty.

Felipe Alou brought in Lee Smith to close the game. He started off by walking Listach. Bill asked me if I wanted to keep the green light on for Pat, and I said, “Hell yes, reinforce it. This guy is slow to the plate, and Fletcher hasn’t been throwing anybody out. Monty [Ray Montgomery] might hit into a double play.”

Pat had his chance, but he did not want to take it. Ray Montgomery hit into a double play on the fourth pitch. To make matters worse, Biggio doubled and Gonzalez singled to make it 8-6, with Bagwell coming up.

If Pat had stolen second, it would have been 8-7 and only one out.

I’m not sure it would have helped us a lot, because Ugeth Urbina came in throwing bullets, and he struck out Bagwell. Still, I had Thomas Howard on deck to pinch-hit for Springer, and he is lefthanded and a fastball hitter.

I think I am going to have to have a meeting with our regular players and tell them that if we reinforce the green light, they should try to go — even if they don’t have their best jump.

Pat apparently told Bill Spiers that Smith held the ball on him; so what? The guy is 1.7 seconds to the plate; you can get a bad jump and still be safe.

He also said he was afraid of getting doubled off on a line drive. Any time you steal or hit-and-run, you take that chance. The chances of a ground-ball double-play are far greater.

That was the only thing that really ticked me off in this game. I was disappointed in myself for letting Chief stay in too long, and for not showing more confidence in Lima.

But I was more than disappointed in Pat. He has not been hitting or fielding well. His calling card is the stolen base, and he seems to be afraid to even try.

It is clear that he is not as fast as he used to be: he goes down the line 4.1-4.2 seconds, when our scouting reports had him at 3.9. Still, he has shown us the ability to get a jump and steal a base. If he’s going to help us, he’s going to have to steal, because he doesn’t get many extra-base hits.

If we had tied the game, we would have an advantage in extra innings, because both of our closers were available and they had already spent theirs.

 

This game was a good lesson for me. I conceded, mentally, when they routed Kile; I just thought it would be best to save the bullpen for tomorrow. But the way the Expos’ bullpen has been riddled, I should have been thinking “comeback win” all along. I don’t know if that would have changed anything, but it is certainly a better attitude.

 

On a positive note, my penchant for cigar-smoking has spread. The clubhouse man here, Brian Greenberg, had three Cuban cigars waiting for me, and Barry brought me another one. These things go for $10-20 a pop here. 

I can’t wait to smoke them, but I will have to smuggle them out because with this cold, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate them.

It is 12:45 a.m. now, and the bus leaves for the ballpark at 10:30 in the morning. This is no way to enjoy Montreal, but if we win tomorrow, it will be a good trip.

TUESDAY, APRIL 29 ● Houston, vs Colorado

“I’ve come to disturb you,” she said. How could she disturb anyone with her mellifluous, cheerful voice? 

It didn’t take long to pack for a two-day jaunt to Montreal. One nice thing about it is that we won’t have to wait for bags; you can carry everything you need.

I was still a little weary when Cubby came by at 9:30, and I was still rather relaxed when we got to the Dome.

My bio-weather map is fairly predictable: Fog in the waking hours; overcast and balmy, with soft, caressing breezes in the morning; sunny until bedtime. I have a little trouble getting the day underway, and I often find it difficult to turn out the lights.

Today, the bright sun greeted me in the morning, when I was still in a lounging mode. I had drawn up the lineup and had it posted, and I was reviewing matchup information regarding their relief pitchers and our hitters, when Bill came into my office, red-faced and out of breath.

“I just had it out with Derek,” he said. “I did it in front of everybody, because I wanted them to hear it.”

I had Thomas Howard playing center, and I figured Derek was mad about being benched — but that was not the bone of contention. It was that most dreaded drill: infield practice.

This has become oddly humorous to me. Almost every day, someone gripes about infield. The drill itself does not require much effort. I used to think it was somewhat enjoyable. Everyone took infield every day when I played, and I never heard anyone complain about it.

I may be wrong, but my suspicion is that the players don’t like to go down to the field half-an-hour before game time, because there will be a hundred kids behind the dugout seeking autographs. Nobody wants to sign for half-an-hour leading up to the game. But it is hard to sign for some and not for others. It is hard for a lot of guys to say, “Can’t do it now. Catch you later.”

The easiest thing is to not go down to the field. But that is not the case with Derek. He likes to sign and talk with the fans. With him, it’s always the attention thing.

“He told me he has a sore arm,” Bill said. “I told him, ‘that’s bullshit.’ I watch him throw every day. He doesn’t have a sore arm.”

“He’s probably just mad because he’s not in the lineup,” I said.

“But that’s no excuse for missing infield,” Bill replied, still in a huff. “If anything, it’s a reason to take infield: to get loose so you’re ready to play when the time comes.”

“You know that, and I know that,” I said. “But we don’t think like Derek. I’ll go over and talk to him. But I don’t want to fine him. The money doesn’t mean anything to him, and it may drive him deeper into his slump, if that’s possible.”

 “You don’t have to fine him,” Bill said. “You don’t even have to talk to him. As far as I’m concerned, it’s over. I think the rest of the guys know where we stand on infield. They were all there listening.”

I talked to Mac before I talked to Derek. Mac suspected that it was more about the lineup than infield. He advised me not to broach the lineup subject.

“That’s your prerogative,” he said. “He has nothing to say about that. But that doesn’t mean he can skip infield. And that’s what you need to tell him. This is a team, and he’s on it. He needs to know that you are depending on him, as one of the veterans, to be a leader.”

I thought this was good advice, and that was my focus.

Derek was hurt. Bill’s tirade obviously had some impact.

“He yelled at me in front of the whole team,” Derek said. “Nobody can talk like that to me. He embarrassed me.”

“Look, D,” I said. “You ought to know Bill by now. He’s old-school. He has one way to look at the world: through his own eyes. I see things a little differently, and you only see things through your eyes.

“We may not agree, but we are a team. It’s like we said at Vero that day: this is not Derek Bell and the Houston Astros; it is not Jeff Bagwell and the Houston Astros. This is just The Astros. It’s a team.

“You’re not going to like everything about your job. Nobody does. But how can we complain? We get paid pretty good to mostly do what we like to do anyway.”

“I know that,” he said. “But that’s no excuse to talk to a man that way. If I didn’t have a sore arm, I would have gone down there.”

“Look,” I said. This isn’t about infield. It’s about being a winning team. That’s what bothers Bill. That’s what we all want. You are a veteran player, and whether you like it or not, the young guys watch everything you do. If your arm hurts, go down and do a little running. At least be a part of the team. That’s what’s important to me.”

We continued in this vein for a while, and I had the impression that he had settled down. Not long after that, I saw him clowning around on the bench.

The sad thing about the ongoing saga of Derek Bell is that he seems so full of joy most of the time. I’m glad he is disturbed about his slump; it reveals his competitive nature. But I hate to have him abuse the coaching staff over it.

Oh, well. At least I was wide-awake when the game started at 12:35.          

           

I know some of the coaches were a little concerned that we were sending Donne Wall to the mound to snap a three-game losing streak. Most of them did not see Donne last year; they only saw him get massacred this spring. I felt pretty good about it; I saw him beat the Rocks twice last year. I also thought we would hit Roger Bailey.

I was right about Donne and wrong about Bailey.

Last year we creamed Bailey in his only start against us. This time around, he was sporting a 3-0 record and pitching with confidence. His fastball was in the 88 MPH range, but he spotted it well and had good breaking stuff and a terrific changeup.

Donne gave up a run in the second inning, and we got it back in the third inning when Bagwell hit one of those changeups into left for a single, driving in Biggio. Sean Berry gave us the lead with a solo HR in the fourth. It was sweet revenge, because in the second inning, Bailey had drilled Sean in the elbow.

I had to take Sean out of the game two innings later, because his elbow was swelling. Then I had to take Donne out in the seventh, because he pulled a groin muscle.

This is where I made my first real mistake as a manager.

When I went to check on Donne, Russ Springer was already warming up. It was obvious that Donne couldn’t continue, so I motioned for Russ. Then I remembered something that Bill had told me:

“I always keep the lineup card in my hat, in case something happens while I’m out on the field. That way, I can go over the changes with the umpire without going back to the dugout.”

On this occasion, I took the lineup card out and realized that the pitcher’s spot would be third in the bottom of the seventh, and that I might want to double-switch. If I put Bell in for Gonzalez, he would be batting third in the seventh, and Springer would be batting eighth.

“Let’s see here,” I said. “I might want to make another move.”

“You can’t double-switch the pitcher,” homeplate umpire Bob Davidson said. “You’ve already called him in.”

“I know,” I said. “But I didn’t come out to change pitchers. I came out for the injury.”        

“That’s true,” he said. “And in this case, you can cross the foul line. But you still have to tell me about the switch before you call for the pitcher.”

He started to say more, but I realized that I had no argument.

“I understand,” I said as I left the mound. “I just messed up.”

This was a case of the team picking me up.

Springer struck out Dante Bichette to end the inning. I pinch-hit Bell for him, and we did not score. But then Bagwell blasted a home run to lead off the bottom of the eighth, and Hudek closed the deal. Bagwell’s home run was one of the most-impressive I have seen him hit. It certainly wasn’t the longest, but he hit it on a line and it had overspin. Until that moment, I didn’t think it was possible to hook a line drive out of that part of the ballpark.

Hudek was impressive too. He hit 94 on the gun — his top reading of the year. He struck out two of the three batters.

           

After the game, I was talking about Hudek to one of the writers, who told me that Hudek had told him that he was pleased with the way things were going.

“I know how he’s going to use us now, and I feel great about it,” is the way the writer reported it to me.

I’m not sure this enthusiasm will last all year, but I am hopeful that John finally realizes that I have confidence in him and that I will give him save opportunities. I think he now realizes there will be enough opportunities to go around.

 

On the flight to Montreal, one of the players sent me a cold beer in a paper sack. Gosh, it sure is nice to know the guys are thinking of me while they ignore the rules. Sometimes ignoring the rules can pay off, like when Gonzo ran through Cubby’s stop sign in San Diego and scored.

As long as there is no incident, we will have no problem with the beer. At this point, I would say our chances are about 50-50.   

MONDAY, APRIL 28 ● Houston, vs Colorado

Drayton McLane is a self-proclaimed cheerleader. His upbeat personality is among his major assets. I have seen him proselytizing for baseball at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and after a night game. He is tireless and persistent.

I have my assets too. They are paltry by comparison, and my appetite for stumping is whetted only by evening libations.

For this reason, I was none-too-thrilled to learn that Judy volunteered me to give not one, but two motivational speeches at Ryan’s junior high school this morning. But as with most dreaded events, it proved not so difficult when I got going.

The purpose was to encourage the students to do well on their national achievement tests. I simply used my life as an example, saying that most of my teammates wanted to stay in baseball after they retired, but that only the ones who had a college education were able to. This was a little white lie, but by the time these kids get to be adults, it will be true.

The teachers seemed happy, and Judy — who is in charge of the volunteers at the school — was fairly beaming. These things that I dread — school assemblies and hospital visits — are almost always rewarding in the end.

 

It was noon when I finished, so I had time to kill before meeting Dick Hite of Norton Ditto for a fitting of suits and sport coats.

I went to the store early and looked around. Lo and behold, they had quite a few Hawaiian shirts. And this is a privately-owned high-fashion store in Houston, Texas.

Maybe I am ahead of the trend.   

           

I got to the ballpark about three o’clock — half an hour later than I if I was with Cubby. As I suspected, there was still plenty of time to prepare for the game. The Rockies were our opponents, and they were 8-3 on the road, after having nightmares away from home last year. I felt pretty good about our chances, however.

The Rockies started a youngster, Jamey Wright, and we countered with Mike Hampton. I really thought Mike was due for a good game, and The Perfessor said that he had his best warmup of the year.

So much for warmups.

Hampton showed the good stuff in the second, when he gave up a single and a triple and then got three outs without letting the second runner score. Then he singled in a run with two outs in the bottom of the second, which turned out to be his last gasp in this game.

In the third, the Rockies greeted him with three singles that were hit so hard they would have been home runs if they had any loft. Then Hamp uncorked a wild pitch and gave up another screaming single and a sacrifice fly. He was lucky to get out of it with only three runs scoring. 

Bobby Abreu hit his first big-league homer in the bottom of the frame, but the Rocks came back with two more on a homer by Ellis Burks. Down 6-2, it didn’t look so good for the home team.

But then we got an opening when Eric Young booted a double-play ball. Bobby Abreu followed with a two-run double, and we ended up scoring three to make it 6-5.

At this point, I thought we would win the game.

Ramón Garcia came in and pitched well for us. Abreu hit another home run to tie it, and I still had Hudek and Wagner ready to slam the door. As it turned out, we pinch-hit for Garcia and did not score.

Because the pitcher’s spot was way down in the lineup as we started the ninth, I went to Wagner, because I was still trying to limit Hudek to one inning.

Wagner was faster than ever: 97-98 MPH with every pitch. The Rocks went down easily. We got the bases loaded against Steve Reed, and Jeff McCurry came in to face Bagwell. I anticipated a walk, a wild pitch, or a hard-hit ball. Instead, Bagwell struck out.

In the tenth, Vinny Castilla hit a 98 MPH fastball deep into the centerfield pavilion. Bruce Ruffin shut us down for the save, and a good comeback was ruined.

It was a tough loss for me, but not as tough as yesterday’s. To me, the Rockies look like a better club than the Giants. And we almost beat them after having our starting pitcher shelled.

There is scant time to dwell on defeat. This game took almost four hours, and I didn’t get home until midnight. Now I have to pack and get to the Dome by 10:00 in the morning for a 12:35 businessfan’s special.

I had a cigar and a glass of wine, and I listened to the abstruse wailings of John Prine to make myself sleepy. I left a note for Judy to wake me up: “I have to be up by 8:30,” I wrote. “Please disturb me.”