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WEDNESDAY, MAY 7 ● Houston, vs Mets

I went by Norton Ditto to pick up two suits, and Dick Hite asked me if I needed anything else.

“Well, a couple pair of casual pants would come in handy for this next road trip,” I said. Ten minutes later, I had the pants and was on my way to the Dome to meet the Mets. I could get used to this bigshot status: suites in all the hotels; a car to drive; and clothing to wear just for acting as a spokesman.

The trick is to win enough ballgames to keep your job.

 

I have often said that I would never bet on a baseball game. The reason is simple: the more you know about baseball, the less-confident you feel predicting what will happen.

I happen to think we have a pretty fair team, and a good staff, but I don’t know if we will finish 90-72 or 72-90. Right now, the former looks like the better guess. But we have a long way to go, and anything can happen. Still, I felt we would win this game.

Shane Reynolds was going against Armando Reynoso; and a guy who killed us last year, Mets centerfielder Lance Johnson, was on the disabled list. I had a complete menu of players who have hit Reynoso well at my disposal. And Shane has been in a great groove.

As I filled out my lineup card, I hesitated in left field. Thomas Howard was 8-for-18 off Reynoso, and Luis González was just 4-16. Luis was hot, and Thomas was cooling off after a hot start. Which way to go? The numbers said Howard, but my instinct said Gonzo. Reynoso is a breaking-ball pitcher, and that is right up Gonzo’s alley.

I chose Howard.

Before the game, Mac told me that Gonzo was upset and that Derek was still lobbying to hit third in the lineup. I tried to catch Gonzo in a private moment, but I couldn’t do it.

As for Derek, I was almost desperate enough to get him started hitting to consider his request. Maybe if he thought he was going to get good pitches to hit, he would hit some of them.

The truth is that he has had plenty of good pitches to hit in the four- and five-spots in the order. And I was a little peeved that he would persist with this line of thinking, when it was clear to me that his best spot for the game would be on the bench. If I moved him anywhere, it should be down to seventh or eighth.

One thing I was not going to do is move Bagwell. He is doing just fine hitting third. He gets on base almost twice as often as Bell, and he runs the bases well. Why on earth would I want to move him?

The first inning was a case in point.  Bagwell hit a home run, then Derek struck out to end the inning. The Mets scored a run in the fourth to tie the game. After that, it was the Land of Missed Opportunities for us.

To be fair, the Mets had Shane in a lot of trouble too. Both pitchers were tough when they had to be.

It was still 1-1 in the ninth when I brought Tom Martin in to pitch. Tom has not allowed an earned run this year. That streak came to an end when Butch Huskey hit a two-run pinch-homer. We lost the game 4-1.

           

During this contest, I was especially irritable. I was yelling shit and damn it throughout the game. Finally, Bill looked at me like, “what’s wrong with you tonight?” I got the message.

“I don’t know what it is,” I said. “But I don’t have any patience tonight. Maybe it’s because I thought we would get to this guy, and we haven’t been able to.”

“That happens sometimes,” Bill said. “You can’t really count on winning a game, no matter who is pitching.”

I knew this to be true. This is why I wouldn’t bet on baseball.

“I just hate to let this one get away, with Hamp pitching tomorrow. This could turn out to be a lousy homestand. And with 15 of our next 17 games on the road, we can’t afford that.”

“I hear what you’re saying,” he said. “But you can’t do much about it.”

 

 

One thing you can do is go for the win at all costs when you get to the ninth inning tied. I could have used Wagner or Hudek, but I called on Martin. The way he has been pitching, I wasn’t second-guessed. But I made a mental note to consider all these decisions and feelings, and to get better control of my emotions.      

After the game, I was calm with the writers. I’ll know I’ve lost it if I get angry and say something that I will regret when it gets in the paper. Tomorrow we have a day game, so I won’t have time to stew on this one.

Just get home and pack, and get back to the Dome for Getaway Day.

 

TUESDAY, MAY 6 ● Houston, vs Philadelphia

Golf is great … if you don’t care about your score. This outing was a humbling experience for Bill, The Perfessor, and me. Cubby shot a respectable 81. We couldn’t blame the weather; it was near-perfect. We couldn’t blame the course; it was in great shape, especially the greens. Our host, Charley Epps, bought us lunch afterward.

I mentioned that if our baseball game went anything like our golf game, we had better send Cubby to the Dome and the rest of us should just go home and lie down.

           

We didn’t exactly lie down, but Curt Schilling put us down. He was dominating, throwing a 95 MPH fastball on the corners throughout the game. The Phillies got five runs off Ramón Garcia in the first three innings and beat us 5-1.

The upside was that José Lima, Russ Springer, and John Hudek held them scoreless the rest of the way. And we got Ricky Gutierrez back.

I had my talk with Pat before the game, and it went well. He admitted that he has been playing a little tight. More importantly, he bought into my plan to mix-and-match infielders on the left side until we see how Ricky is doing.

“Until the big guys start hitting, I’m going to have to look for favorable matchups at short,” I said. “You’ll get enough playing time to keep working on your stroke, but it won’t be a regular situation, at least for the next few weeks.”

 

Later, I called all of the left-side infielders in for a meeting. I told them that we obviously had a crowd on the left side, and that nobody would get to play as much as they would like.

I said that Sean Berry would play most of the time because of his bat, and that Tim Bogar would come in for late-inning defense. I mentioned that Billy Spiers would probably play some at both positions — especially now, because he has a hot bat. I told Pat and Ricky that they would both get starts.

“This is kind of like spring training during the regular season,” I said. “I just don’t know how else to do it but to mix-and-match until we can evaluate our best combination, and go with it. I don’t know how long this will take.”

Cubby was in the meeting, because he is the infield coach. I told the guys to get with him if they needed more ground balls.

“I know a lot of guys come out for extra hitting,” I said. “Some of you guys might need extra fielding work. Don’t be afraid to ask for it. Are there any questions?”

“Well, it’s not really a question, so much as a comment,” Billy Spiers said. “Most of the time we can get all the ground balls we need during batting practice. But sometimes when Cubby is throwing BP, we only have two fungo hitters. Seems like we could use three, if it’s possible.”

This was a great comment. I would have never noticed. Cubby nodded assent, and I told the guys we would find a way to have three fungo hitters at all times.

          

Just before I took the lineup card out to home plate, I reached down to make sure my fly was up.

It’s a nervous habit, and I’m sure a lot of guys have it — especially when they appear before a crowd. Well, when I got to home plate, I asked umpire Ed Rapuano if he checked his fly before coming out on the field. He laughed and said that he checked it every game.

“It’s funny,” he said. “I know it’s up, but I always check it anyway.”

Maybe we should have yelled at Schilling that his fly was down. Maybe it would have unnerved him, and we would have gone on to win the game. Maybe Pat would have hit a home run off him.

Maybe not.

MONDAY, MAY 5 ● Houston, vs Philadelphia

Before the game today, Gerry and Cubby were in my office. Rob came by to get the lineup.

“I have it right here,” I said. “But I wanted to talk to Cubby about it before posting it.”

“That’s cool,” Rob said. “I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

When I showed the lineup to Cubby and Gerry, they were nonplussed: Biggio’s name was not on the card.

“Something wrong with Biggio?” Cubby asked.

“Only that he is 3-for-19 off this pitcher,” I said. “I thought I would give Spiers a chance to play second. He’s hit this guy well.”

I could tell that this line of reasoning was not convincing. I had a little problem with it myself:

We like to give regulars a day off before or after an off-day, so that they effectively get two days off.

Biggio plays defense and runs the bases so well that he doesn’t always have to hit to help us win.  

I put his name back on the card and gave it to Rob.

Later, Bidge was Rollerblading around the clubhouse and I said, “Skate in here a minute.”

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I just wanted to issue the Al Oliver Challenge,” I said, cryptically.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Well, let’s put it this way,” I said. “I had you out of the lineup today because you have not hit Mark Leiter at all. Your buddies, Gerry and Cubby, talked me out of it.

“Here’s the challenge: back when I was pitching, I had some success against a great hitter by the name of Al Oliver.

“One night, I had a shutout going in the ninth against the Pirates in the Dome. Oliver had as good an at-bat as I have ever seen.  I made at least six or seven tough pitches, but he kept fouling them off. 

“It went to 3-2, and he hit a home run on a fastball that was right on his hands.  The next day, my old teammate Dave Giusti came up and punched me on the shoulder.

“’I really got you last night,’ he said. ‘I bet Oliver 20 bucks that he couldn’t get a hit off you last night.’  I called him an asshole, but I didn’t really mind. With all the great lefthanded hitters the Pirates had, I was just happy to win the game.

“So this is the challenge,” I said. “I say you can’t hit Mark Leiter. What do you say?”

“We’ll see,” he said with a smile.  

I also had a chance to visit with James Mouton before the game. I’m always looking for opportunities to talk one-on-one with players, but this can be difficult because they are seldom alone in a quiet place.

I believe that the setting and timing of these conversations is important. If you call a guy into your office to talk, or pull him off the field to talk, the whole team sees it, and it becomes a big deal. I prefer to fold the one-on-one time into the fabric of our workout, so that it seems natural.

The outfield, during batting practice, is a good place to talk. I’ve noticed that Jimmy Leyland spends time out there talking to his players.

I have also been able to sit with them on the bench during BP.

This time, I found Mouton in the lunchroom of the clubhouse, with no one else around.

I wanted to talk with him about his body language. I’m not sure a guy can change this behavior, because it is a personality trait — an ingrained response to pressure.

James is a good player, but he has never been able to win a fulltime job. Like most “extra men,” he seems insecure at times. And I think he sends this signal to the opponent — and especially, the umpires — way too often.

If he takes a close 2-2 pitch, he immediately turns to the home plate umpire with a “stray dog” look on his face. Because he looks so guilty, he seldom gets the benefit of the doubt from the ump.

The same thing is true when he steals a base. If it is close, he looks up with the sad eyes of a sinner at confession.

“Yer’ out!” the umpire barks. It’s almost automatic.

“Look at Biggio,” I suggested. “When he takes a close pitch, he never looks back. He just assumes it’s ball, and that is usually the way it is called. When he steals a base, he just gets up and brushes himself off. He never even looks at the umpire – he just acts like he was safe by a mile.”

 At first, James was a little defensive. He said that because he didn’t play every day, he didn’t always feel natural. He admitted he was probably too conservative on the bases, but he said that a lot of times, he just didn’t have the timing.

“If I can’t get a good jump, I’m out,” he said.

“Not necessarily,” I said. “In assuming you will be out you are giving the catcher credit for making a clean catch and a good throw. If you get a bad jump and he makes a bad throw, you will be safe. The other guys make mistakes, too.

“I’d like to see you play with more confidence — maybe even a little bit of recklessness. Like when you were a rookie.”

That made him smile. In his first game, he got three hits and threw a runner out at the plate. He stole bases at will that year. But he was unable to hit a righthander’s breaking ball — a weakness that ultimately relegated him to platoon status. 

“When I was a rookie, I didn’t understand the risks involved,” he said. “I’m a better ballplayer now; a smarter player now.”

“I don’t doubt that,” I said. “But you are a less-instinctive player now. I get the impression you are trying not to be the goat of the game, and in the process giving up the chance to be the star of the game.”

I think I was starting to get through to him. He said that he didn’t always feel comfortable, and sometimes felt like he was sometimes trying harder not to make a mistake than to make a great play.

“Look,” I said. “You are on the team, making good money. You are not going to be sent to the minors. And I am not going to jump you if you make a mistake on the aggressive side. I know that you understand situations, that you know the difference between an aggressive play and a stupid play.

“Review the possibilities before each pitch, whether you are hitting, fielding, or on the bases. Then when the pitch is made, trust your instincts and never — I mean never — look at the umpire like you pleading for mercy.”

This session went well. I think James accepted my observation as a challenge, rather than an indictment. This is why the setting is so important. If you call a guy into the office, he is worried to begin with. If you can catch him when he is relaxed, he is apt to be more receptive.

Time will tell whether or not he can loosen up. I don’t expect a miracle, but I hope for a small change for the better.

 

The same is true with Pat Listach. In fact, I told James that I was going to have the same chat with Pat.

“I don’t look like that, do I?” he asked.

I just rolled my eyes and brows up and to the side, in an example of body language that said yes.

Pat is under more scrutiny than James, because he makes a little more money and he is expected to be a starter. Throughout the spring and early season, he has been under the gun, and the strain is showing.

He doesn’t have as much speed or power as James, so he doesn’t fit as well as an extra man. I still don’t know if he can make it. I see flashes, but I still see the evidence of insecurity on his face way too often.

All of our veteran players like Pat. He is a helluva guy and a good professional. But we cannot play all year with a shortstop who is below-average in the field and at the plate.

I cannot keep the pressure off him. The opposing hitters and pitchers will keep it on him all the time. He is going to have to deal with it better to become the regular shortstop.

 

The game was a laugher. Chris Holt came up big on the fourth day, just as D.K. did yesterday.

Bagwell and González homered, and we won, 9-2.

Oh, and by the way, Biggio also homered, after looking inept in his first two at-bats.

“I just saved you a lot of money,” he said as he came back into the dugout. “We’d have killed you in Kangaroo Court if I took an oh-fer after what you said.”

“But you didn’t, did you?” I said. “You met the Al Oliver Challenge.”

             

Dale Robertson of the Chronicle called to say that he had been covering the Rockets vs Supersonics game at the Summit, and that Jimmy Buffett was there.

“I know you like Buffett,” he said, “and he’s going over to Carraba’s with Rudy T and some of the guys. Why don’t you stop by?”

I told him I probably wouldn’t. I was feeling a little tired, and I had a golf game scheduled with the coaches at 8:30 in the morning. I knew that a beer at Carraba’s could turn into several beers, and a long night.

As much as I would like to meet Jimmy Buffett, I feel the need to consider the coaches and the team first.

THURSDAY, MAY 1 ● Montreal, vs Expos

May Day! May Day! Let us out of here!

Half the team has this cold now, and the rest of them have Martinezitis. We won’t see Pedro again until the end of July, and that’s too soon for most of our hitters.

What a game he pitched today! A three-hit shutout. It didn’t help that Chris Holt was without his best stuff, and the Expos were able to jump out in front and give Martinez a little working room. But I’m not sure he needed it.

The first time through the order, he brushed every hitter back from the plate at least once. He hit the outside corner with fastballs and sliders at will, and he mixed in an occasional changeup. Each time he faced a hitter, he gave him a little different sequence.

I’m going to review the tape, and if it looks like I think it will, I may use it as a teaching tool for some of our young pitchers.

The first time we faced him, we actually got an earned run when Russ Johnson hit a homer. That is the only earned run Martinez gave up in April.

I suppose it is comforting to know that no one else has been able to hit him, but the fact is, we will have to beat some good pitchers 1-0 or 2-1 if we are going to win our division.

We have already won a few low-scoring games. And with the Marlins coming to the Dome, we may have to win some more to stay over .500.

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.