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TUESDAY, AUGUST 5 ● Miami, vs Florida

Cubby and I played golf this morning at Weston Hills, the site of the Honda Classic. It is a fine course — long and tough. There is a lot of water, and a lot of sand. To make up for the lack of tree-lined fairways, they have let the rough grow shaggy — and that was my undoing.

At first, I thought it would be a good day. I went three-up, parring the first three holes, while Mike struggled to hit it straight.

On the fourth hole, I hit my drive about ten yards to the left of the fairway, in the high rough. I searched and searched and never found the ball. With two strokes for the lost ball, I took a double-bogey. What’s more, the ball was brand-new.

I’m not one to spend a lot of time looking for balls when I hit a bad shot, but this was a good drive: 260 yards or so, and just a little off-line.

The next hole, the same thing happened. I found my ball on the next hole; saw a little piece of white under the grass. I hit it well, but it did not hold the green; it rolled right across and into a trap. My trap shot wasn’t too swift, and I three-putted for another double-bogey.

I hit a good drive on the next hole, and I had a wedge shot to the green. The pin was placed tight against the bulkhead of a lake, and I decided to go for it. The ball landed on top of a piling, about ten feet from the pin, and bounded into the lake.

It was about 10 in the morning, and the temperature was rising almost as fast as the humidity — but not nearly as fast as my ire. What started as a good round was going all to hell.

As a pitcher, I could maintain my poise and dignity under fire. Most of the time, I can do it in golf.

But not today.  

What really fried me was hitting the ball so well and not scoring.

Pat Summerall

At the turn, I called Pat Summerall. I was supposed to visit with him on his talk show last week, and I forgot. I wanted to redeem myself, because he is one of my favorite sportscasters, and I have never met him.

The visit went well, but it took 15 minutes. Cubby had a hot dog while he waited. I was starving, but we were in a time crunch: we had to get back to the hotel by 1:00 to get checked out and get to the ballpark by 1:45 for extra hitting.

I don’t really have to be there; all I do is shag in the outfield. But I think it is better if I am there. Perhaps I will miss a practice session like this once in a while, if I get a few years under my belt. Not now.

The sun bore down upon us as we thrashed though the back nine. I was sweating like a roofer. I picked up on several holes, to save time and energy. Cubby didn’t do much better, but he did well enough to win all the bets.

The early van to the ballpark was filled to overflowing, so Bill and I rode with Vern and his aunt and uncle. I felt drained when I got to the park, but a fruit smoothie got me going. I came up with a lineup, and went to the field to shag.

Vern and I played catch; he had better stuff than I did. It did not seem to be my day. Perhaps it would be my night.

The game got off to a promising start.  We had runners at first and second in the second inning. I gave Bogey the bunt sign, with Chuckie on deck. I wasn’t real optimistic about our prospects, because if Chuckie failed to get a run home, D.K. would be next to hit, with two outs.

When the count went to 2-1, I decided to gamble and took off the bunt sign. Bogey hit a double to left-center, and both runners scored.

Tony Saunders

I think Tony Saunders, the Marlins’ rookie lefthander, just threw one in there, expecting the bunt. I have told our pitchers several times that they should not ever let up in a bunt situation. I learned through experience that you can prevent a successful sacrifice by throwing good stuff.

Still, I have noticed that many pitchers — including some of our guys — lose velocity when they think the batter is bunting.

The Marlins got to Kile in the second inning, and they tied the score. They are really swinging the bats well, and D.K. didn’t seem to have his good control. He hung a curve ball to Charles Johnson in the third, and Johnson hit it about 450 feet.

We were down 4-2, but still not out by any means.

Ricky Gutierrez hit a solo homer to right in the fourth to make it 4-3.  Then Bogey tied it up with a two-out RBI single in the fifth. We took the lead in the eighth on two singles and Biggio’s grounder.

Then came the ninth. It made the golf course look like a stroll in the park.

It started with lineup changes: Billy Wagner came in to pitch; Luis Gonzalez took over in left; and Brad Ausmus replaced Tony Eusebio behind home plate.

Wagner immediately walked Edgar Renteria — a guy who seldom draws a walk. If Billy had even come close, Renteria would have swung the bat.  He was throwing his fastball harder than the last couple of times out: 97-99 MPH.

I held my breath as Billy threw Gary Sheffield a hanging curve ball. Sheffield let it go by, then got a jam-shot single on a fastball. Bobby Bonilla popped up after watching a curve ball go by letter-high.

“I wish he would stop throwing curve balls,” I told Vern.  “All he has to do is hit a couple corners, and we’re out of here.”

“I hear you,” he said.

“Do you want to go out and tell him?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “He’s throwing strikes now, and I don’t want to break up his rhythm.”

Jeff Conine came up to hit for Darren Daulton, and Billy threw the ball right by him twice. Then he started overthrowing: rushing with his body so that his arm couldn’t catch up.

Vern was yelling, “stay back.” I was grinding my cud like a hyperactive Heifer. Conine fouled a pitch and finally took a walk. That brought Moises Alou to the plate.

Alou is a good fastball hitter. Billy ran the count to 1-2 with raw heat. Then he threw another high curveball.

“What the hell is he doing?” I asked Vern.

“He’s throwing what Brad is calling,” Vern answered calmly.

“How many freaking times are we going to have to tell him not to call for curve with two strikes in the count?”

“I don’t know,” Vern said. “Seems like we’ve told him about fifty times already.”

“How the hell did he get into Dartmouth, if he can’t even remember that?”

“He can remember. He’s just stubborn.”

About that time, Billy threw yet another hanging curve, and Alou delivered the game-winning hit.

Everyone on the bench was frozen in the pose they had held before the pitch. Everyone but me.

I tried not to say anything that any of the other players would hear, but I may not have succeeded. My rage may have rendered my expletive-laced mutterings audible; I don’t know.  

Brad should have noticed that every curve ball Wagner threw was high. For that matter, almost all of his fastballs were high. This is an indication that he is rushing his delivery. It is impossible for him to throw a good curve this way. And it was unlikely he was going to slow down his delivery, despite the instructions Vern was giving from the dugout.

I have to talk to Brad again. I don’t want to call pitches from the dugout, but I may have to institute a sign to tell him not to call for an offspeed pitch.

I’m sure he wants to win as badly as I do; he just has a different opinion about how to do it. If I had given him a no-curve sign and Alou had won the game by hitting a fastball, it would be my responsibility. I could live with that. But I don’t know if he could.

The other thing that frustrated me about this game was Wagner. Sure, he’s a young pitcher. But we have told our pitchers not to throw slow pitches with two strikes, unless they are sure they can do it with good motion and keep the ball at the knees or below. I don’t see how in the world Billy could have had that feeling after hanging four consecutive curves.

MONDAY, AUGUST 4 ● Miami, vs Florida

We have had a lot of trouble with the Marlins the last two years — especially in Miami. They have been hot; we have been hot. They won a series from the Braves; we beat the Mets. Something had to give.

I was hoping this would be the night their Cuban rookie, 22-year-old Liván Hernandez, would give it up. He came into the game with a record of 5-0 and an ERA just above 2.00. Chris Holt’s record is not quite as impressive, but Holt can be tough. He doesn’t rattle.

It turned out to be a pitcher’s duel.

Hernandez didn’t look too good from the dugout. His fastball was just a tick above average speed, and his breaking stuff seemed a little lazy. The hitters kept coming back to the dugout shaking their heads, as if they couldn’t believe they weren’t hitting him.

Holt pitched well too, but not quite well enough.

An error by Sean Berry opened it up for the Marlins in the fourth inning. They pushed two unearned runs across to take the lead.

In the sixth, Biggio doubled and Bagwell plated him with a sacrifice fly. That was all we would get.

They added two more runs when Devon White reached on a single to lead off the bottom of the sixth. It was a shallow fly ball to center; Chuckie misread it, broke back, and then couldn’t make up the ground. Two outs later, Bobby Bonilla hit a two-strike changeup over the right-field fence, and that was that.

It was an uninspired start to our road trip, but the Cardinals and Pirates lost, so we knocked a day off the schedule and maintained our lead.

The one thing that upset me about this game was the pitch to Bonilla. He had already flied out and singled on offspeed pitches. Both times he timed the slow curve ball well.

Vern and I have told Brad time and again that we don’t want our pitchers to throw slow pitches with two strikes in the count — especially to good hitters. For that matter, we have told the pitchers too, but most of them seem unsure of themselves and throw whatever Brad calls.

With two strikes, hitters tend to wait a little longer before committing to a swing. They are in a defensive posture, and this makes them more vulnerable to fastballs and sliders — and less apt to swing early on curve balls or changeups.

The pitch to Bonilla was up, and on the inner half of the strike zone. Earlier in the count, a mistake pitch like this might be hit hard, but foul. With two strikes, adiós.

I asked Brad if he had thought about coming up-and-in with a fastball or a slider, and he said, “not in that situation.” I suppose I should have pursued this conversation further, but the game was in progress.

I went back to my position next to Bill, wondering why he thought it was a bad idea to try to jam Bonilla instead of trying to trick him. If Bonilla was in a slump and swinging wildly, I might understand; but he is on fire.

When a good hitter is hot, there is only one place to pitch him: on the hands.

I had a nice visit with Dewayne Staats after the game. He watched the game and then drove down from his home in West Palm Beach. He talked about kids and schools.

Dierker and Staats on Astros TV

His oldest daughter, Stephanie, is in college now, and she is partying her grades and money away. He is chagrined, but I told him to be happy that at least she was staying in school. Julia is going back to start college — for the third time — at the end of the month. Perhaps this time it will take.

I know Dewayne would like to get back in the booth with our ballclub. He started his career under Tal, and Gerry was a junior executive at the time. There are a lot of connections and good vibrations.

It makes perfect sense, except for one thing: Milo would have to go. Drayton thinks Milo has a large, loyal following, and that may be true. Sometimes it’s hard to get something back after you have given it up. So tomorrow, Dewayne is off to Seattle to work a game for ESPN. He doesn’t do as many games these days, but he’s like a hired gun; he has no team tugging at his heart and soul.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 2 ● Houston, vs Mets

Ryan is playing in a tournament in Waller, Texas, this weekend. He has to travel about 50 miles to my 20. We both left the house at 9 a.m.

Today we play for Fox again. This time they are going to put the microphone on Mets coach Bruce Benedict, and Brad Ausmus is going to wear a special catcher’s helmet with a camera built into it.

From what I understand, Fox is getting good reviews — but lousy ratings. They are thinking about starting the games later in the day next year. That will appeal to those of us who have worked a game on Friday night. I hope it will appeal to more fans.

My guess is that the quality of the coverage has little impact on the ratings. I think most folks prefer their own home team. They may watch the playoffs or the World Series when two other teams are playing, but because most teams televise 100 or more regular-season games, why watch the Astros play the Mets, unless you are in Houston or New York, or you have a vested interest in the outcome of the race?

Who watches television on Saturday afternoon? I don’t. Not for football, basketball, or baseball.

In the evening, I’ll watch. Otherwise, I have things to do.

Apparently Fox was thrilled with the results of their catcher-cam; they got closeup shots of why the Mets were having fits with Mike Hampton.

Hamp had the sinker and the slider working, along with an occasional changeup. He pitched a nifty three-hitter, walking three and striking out seven.

Baseball looks so easy from the box seats, or from your easy chair at home. Perhaps the catcher-cam will give folks a sense of how difficult it is to hit a baseball that travels 75-95 MPH and moves a bit as it approaches the plate.

I got more than 100 hits and I still don’t know how I did it, other than luck.

Jeff Bagwell gets lucky once in a while, too. But mostly, he just hits the ball hard on purpose. He hit a home run his first time up today, and he ended up 2-for-3 with two runs scored. Thomas Howard, Luis Gonzalez, Derek Bell and Bill Spiers all contributed RBI. We made it look easy, 6-0.   

I signed about 50 autographs out in the parking lot; I do this a time or two each homestand. After a day game, you can work up a sweat in a hurry. Most of our players sign occasionally. Some, like Gonzo and José Lima, sign almost every day.

The sad thing is, you can’t meet the demand; there were at least 300 people out there this afternoon. Usually, there are at least 50. It’s impossible to satisfy everyone.

Some people understand the situation, and they keep coming back until they get what they want. It’s like a hunting trip — autograph hunting.

Others are not so understanding.

Yesterday, I got a long letter from a lady who brought her grandson to the game, and he only got a few autographs after he waited an hour in the parking lot. It was her first game, and I guess she thought the autographs came with the ticket. The grandson was sorely disappointed, and she vowed never to subsidize baseball again.

Sometimes I wish these folks could spend a “day in the life,” as they say. But then, they may offer the same in return, and I don’t suppose many of us would accept the offer.  

Ryan had a good day. Only nine kids showed up, so he got to play both games and got a few hits and had a good time.

Judy and I joined Solly and Betty Hemus, and Bill and Shirley Virdon, for dinner at Maxim’s. We dined lavishly and talked baseball until the women started yawning. As married men of long standing, we took our cues and departed.

Ryan was at Julia’s apartment. When we arrived to pick him up, he begged to stay and finish watching the movie Julia had rented.  It was some sort of twisted plot of poverty and violence that had Judy on alert. She didn’t wait for the sex; when the language turned bluer than blue, she issued the order to depart.

“It’s really a good movie!” Ryan pleaded.

“Well, you can finish watching it later,” Judy said — meaning, I’m sure, several years later.

“You have to be up first thing for two more games in the sun. It’s time to go home.”

FRIDAY, AUGUST 1 ● Houston, vs Mets

I caught Ryan this morning. He is making good progress. He can throw his fastball for a strike most of the time, and his changeup and curve seem to be coming along.

Wagner “crossfire”

One thing that he struggles with is alignment. Most pitchers step slightly across their bodies and throw their pitches crossfire; he is no exception. He isn’t real bad about it — not as extreme as Billy Wagner, for example — but he does step slightly toward the first-base line, and that will put a strain on his arm unless he is really slow on the back side of his delivery.

When we started to work on his pickoff move, I snapped to a thought I had on the last road trip: why not video his move from the baserunner’s viewpoint?

I went looking for the video camera. Our video library consists of two tapes that we shot when we bought the camera five years ago.

I’ve always enjoyed shooting stills, and I was hoping that Judy would become our video-camera operator and archivist. It hasn’t worked out quite that way; I had to brush the dust off the case before I opened it. Everything was still there, but the batteries were dead. We hooked it up with an extension cord, but we still couldn’t reach the shooting position.

Screen capture of final no-hitter pitch. ©MLB

“Why don’t you just shoot the dogs, to see if it works?” I said. “We can get better prepared next time.”

I am hopeful that the video will help Ryan. I wish I could have looked at tape when I was pitching, but few of our games were televised before 1979. I have only one hand-held clip of the last pitch of my no-hitter, and one partial Mets telecast from 1969. Lindsey Nelson is the announcer. I pitched a three-hitter and struck out 11 batters. I guess if you are going to have a cameo career on video, it may as well be a good one!

This series with the Mets is worrisome. We could easily let down against this powerful team. They have been almost as hot as us, and I believe they are a better team than the Cardinals.

I decided that this would be the day I rested Bagwell, and I was really hoping that we could win the game without using him, but it became obvious early that we would have trouble scoring off Dave Mlicki. He was throwing 94 MPH bullets to both corners, and he had a hammer of a curve ball.

Dave Mlicki

I don’t know why the Mets haven’t pitched this guy more; he has Darryl-Kile-type stuff. Maybe he has struggled with control, but so has D.K.

Mlicki didn’t struggle in this game; all we got off him in seven innings was a measly sacrifice fly. The Big Chief was doing just as well: he went to the mound in the eighth inning tied at 1.

After a leadoff single and a bunt, Bobby Valentine pinch-hit for Mlicki with Luis Lopez. I went to the mound to give Ramón a pat on the back and review how we were going to pitch to Lopez. I went back, and Garcia registered his tenth strikeout — a career best.

We still needed one more out, however, and the batter was Lance Johnson, who led the league in hits last year. I went out and brought Wagner into the game. I knew they had to go to the bullpen, and I was hoping we could score in the next two innings. I was also hoping that Wagner would return to form.

This time, I didn’t call the right number; Johnson got a hit, and we were down 2-1.

Our dugout rose in a frenzy when Biggio hit a two-run homer in the bottom of the eighth. I put Bagwell into the game for defense, and all we needed were three outs from Billy.

We didn’t get them. Billy was wild again.

He got ahead of a few batters, but he couldn’t put them away. They got three hits, two walks, and two runs. Mike Magnante did a great escape job to keep it from getting worse, though we now trailed 4-3.

In the bottom of the ninth, Bagwell led off against John Franco. He won a tough battle by walking. We bunted him up to second, and he scored on a throwing error. For the moment, it seemed like we were still favored by fate: 4-4.

Not for long. José Lima walked two batters and failed to field a bunt. José Cabrera couldn’t stem the tide. We lost the game 8-5.

I answered the postgame questions like it was just one of those things, and that we have to rebound tomorrow against a tough team. All the right stuff.

What I was really feeling was different. It was the first day of August. The dog days had begun. I had to bring Bagwell into the game in a noncritical moment. My pitching changes didn’t work. I felt mentally sluggish during the game.

If anyone had a letdown, it was me.

Two months to go. No time to relax. I have to bear down. With our budget crunch, this chance may not come along again for a while.

We are drawing well, by traditional standards; we’ll probably get two-million fans if we stay on top. But two million fans will scarcely buy enough red ink to drown Drayton’s sorrow.

I have been eating ice cream instead of yogurt as I read myself to sleep on this homestand. Thank goodness I’m getting my weight back up to about 20 pounds over. I wouldn’t want to give the impression that I’m letting the pressure take my appetite.

Even though it is.

THURSDAY, JULY 31 ● Off-day in Houston

Ryan and I met Jim Heine and his two sons, Ryan and Randy, at 10 a.m. for golf. “My” Ryan has played enough to have half an idea on the etiquette of the game, and how to keep things moving. “His” Ryan had played once or twice. Randy was making his debut.

Luckily, there weren’t many people on the course. You have to love golf to play midday this time of the year in Houston.

I loved being with Ryan; the golf was something else again: Hit the ball. Move forward ten yards. Hit again. Go wading in the water for the ball. Hit again. And again and again. I bet they hit 400 shots between them.

Jim and I weren’t at our best, either. Our primary concern was that the kids wouldn’t wander in front of someone who was hitting the ball, which they did several times anyway. They also got pretty far afield with the golf cart several times, and then ran to their ball to hit a few shots, leaving the cart 100 yards behind in the rough.  

The highlight for me was lunch. The kids couldn’t stop laughing, talking about some of the shots they hit, and about farting. I worried that they were getting frustrated because they weren’t playing well, but that did not seem to be the case.

Jim had to go to work, and the boys begged to keep playing. I said that I would play with them and take them home.

It was like herding house cats.

But we made it through 18 holes, just as the sky opened up in a thundering rainstorm. On the way home, Ryan tuned in to the sports-talk radio station.

“I want to see if the Cardinals got McGwire,” he said. I have to admit, the same thing had crossed my mind a few times. Seems the Reds had traded John Smiley, the Mariners had traded José Cruz Jr., and the Giants had traded five minor-league prospects for Wilson Alvarez, Roberto Hernandez, and Danny Darwin. That one could bite us — we still have four more games in San Francisco. It was only 4:00, and the trading deadline is midnight. I guess we will keep a vigil, although there isn’t much we can do about it.

Judy took Ryan to his baseball practice, and I got some writing in before Julia came by to pick me up.

She really looked great: healthy and smiling, with more positive energy than I remember since her preadolescent years. The poor thing matured early, and she started running with an unruly, older crowd. She finally seems ready to settle into a reasonable lifestyle.

She showed me her new apartment, and the mountain bike she got with her birthday money. She told me about her efforts to find a used car for the price she can get for the truck. Very organized, forward-thinking, practical. All my fears were being allayed.

At one point, I wondered if she would ever be able to make a plan, and follow it through. Looks like she might be able to do it. Hallelujah!

We met Judy and Ryan for dinner at Vincent’s, where Julia’s boyfriend Chris works. The food was great, and both kids behaved well and added life to the conversation. Ryan even ate some calamari. He is really growing up fast.

On the way home, we heard the news: the Cardinals had, indeed, traded for McGwire.

Our task is clear now. We have to keep winning to hold them off. With their pitching and the added power of McGwire, they are going to be a tough team to beat the rest of the year.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 30 ● Houston, vs St. Louis

We are two-thirds of the way through the season. If we continue to play at this rate, we will win 87 games. That could well be enough to win the division — but will it give us enough confidence to beat the Braves in the playoffs?

I’d feel better if we showed real improvement during August and September, and we finished with more than 90 wins. I know that sounds greedy, but if we make the playoffs, I know I won’t be satisfied just to be there.

We lost an excruciating five-game series to the Phillies in 1980. Four of the five games went extra innings. It was the first time we had ever been in the playoffs, and I was satisfied with our effort.

In 1986, we played the Mets a best-of-seven. Again it was a fierce, well-played series. We lost the sixth game (and the series) in 16 innings.

In 1980, the Phils became world champions. In 1986, the Mets did the same. In the aftermath of the sixteen-inning game, I was overcome with sorrow. Close wasn’t enough.

I have no desire to win the Central only to fight bravely and lose to Atlanta. I won’t be happy just to make the playoffs.

Don’t get me wrong: I will be satisfied to win the division. But I won’t be truly fulfilled by anything except the World Series. After 32 years with the Astros, I’ve been in the foyer, but have not set foot in the shrine. I’ve seen love’s labor lost — again and again.

Last night, I considered doing something radical with today’s lineup: I thought about playing J.R. Phillips instead of Jeff Bagwell. I thought about having Spiers lead off, and put Biggio in the three-hole.

I wonder what would happen if I did something unconventional.

In the early part of the year, I tried to coax the team out of a role orientation. Knowing your role is important to today’s player; I don’t think it should be. I believe players should understudy several roles. I believe in a team of interchangeable parts.

This philosophy did not go over well at first. Guys were saying things like, “I’ll be glad when we finally get to a set lineup” or “I still don’t really know what my role is on this team.”

I feel like saying, “Your role is to play a large or small part in the winning of a baseball game.”

Lately, we have been playing so well that everyone on the team has helped us win games. Chuck Carr hit a home run.  Bill Spiers stole a key base. Sean Berry made a game-saving play at third. We have simply been operating in a clutch mode.

If we could beat the Cardinals again, without Bagwell and with role-reversals, what would that do to their psyche? To ours?

I don’t think it would kill us if they won. If we won, I think it would bring us closer together, in a we can do whatever needs to be done mentality.

When I got to the park and looked at the matchup numbers, I realized that my only logical play was Phillips-for-Bell.  This did not force anyone else to play a different role.

I waffled in that regard, but I really wanted to win this game, and I knew that Wagner was not available to close it.

I asked Dennis Liborio to send Derek in to see me when he arrived. In the meantime, I got La Russa’s lineup, with a handwrittten note on the back explaining that he thought the PR department would make me aware of the roster changes the previous night. I thought that was considerate, and I thought about sending a note back, but I refrained.

For one thing, I am a rookie; I don’t consider myself his equal. For another, I don’t like to get too chummy with the opposition. If it was Garner or Howe or someone I know better, it would be different. But in this case, I decided that if I didn’t have an easy chance to talk to him, I would just let it slide.  

When Derek came in, I told him that the lineup was nothing personal, and to be ready to take over midway through.

“I need to get him three or four at-bats,” I said.  “I’m very well pleased with the way you’ve been playing lately, and you’ll be back in there Friday.”

He accepted this without any apparent distress; I hoped nothing would boil up later.

During batting practice, I talked to Tal about Derek. The Merced deal is dead; he just went on the disabled list with a sore shoulder. I had no reason to proselytize, but I still wanted Tal to understand.

I told him about Derek’s personality; how it’s hard for him to maintain concentration.

“Everybody knows he has rare ability,” I said. “What they don’t know is that he has to have his own special signs with Cubby, and he has missed them enough that I just don’t put anything on. In that sense, he is unmanageable, just as his personality is unmanageable.

“What you end up with is a guy who has an abundance of talent, but he isn’t really helping the team. The other guys get a little pissed off about it. But if he starts playing better — and it looks like he might — it won’t be a serious problem. If we start losing, it could be hell.”

Tal was reasonable. He agreed that we would probably get better value by keeping him. He can only get better, and his salary could be a bargain if he returns to form.  That would make him much more valuable on the trade market.

Tal was wearing the same baseball-print Hawaiian shirt that Susan found for Ryan — the one he wore when we had dinner with Drayton in Chicago.

“That’s a great shirt,” I said, telling him the story of how we were going to get more of them.

The shirts reminded me that tonight is the Larry Dierker’s Excellent Hawaiian Adventure promotion. I looked around and noticed that almost everyone in the stands was sporting a Hawaiian print. It was a loud show of support — cameramen, reporters, fans, club employees.

It was great — for a while.

Half-an-hour before game time, they trotted me out behind second base, where 2,000 houlis in their various luau gear waited in anticipation for me to draw their name out a hat for a free trip to Hawaii.

But first the Hawaii Visitors Bureau had to adorn me with a lei, and Continental Airlines gave me a Hawaiian shirt.

I drew the first name out of the hat. It was Francois something-or-other. Francy bounded out of the throng looking like a pirate, with a shaved head and a gold loop in each ear. He was fired up.

The second winner was a lady, and she was thrilled, but more subdued.  They gave me the microphone, and I thanked the sponsors and made my exit, looking like a contestant on quiz show.

It was somewhat humiliating. But I am not easily humiliated, so I took it in stride.

Judy was sitting in Drayton’s box behind home plate. I put the lei around her neck and shook hands with Ryan for luck.

This Hawaiian thing has gotten out of hand. The gift shop has reordered six times. There is a serious run on aloha shirts at the Dome, which is nice — as long as we win. It will look sort of silly if we don’t.

I am reminded that aloha means hello and goodbye. We may as well try to have a little fun while we’re at it.

Biggio led off with a walk, and Phillips drove him in with a sacrifice fly. The Cardinals touched Kile for a run in the third.

Bidge started another rally in the fourth, and Ricky finished it with a two-run triple. Up 4-1, with Kile on the mound, seems like a lock to some folks; I know differently. It’s not that I doubt Kile; it’s just that I respect the Cardinals. They have some clutch, veteran players.

And the PA announcer kept bellowing winning numbers in Larry Dierker’s Excellent Hawaiian Adventure between innings. I was mortified to hear my name so many times. I thought that if I were in the other dugout, I would want to kick this showboat’s ass.

Well, wouldn’t you know, the Redbirds started fluttering their wings — and before long, they had six consecutive runners; had tied the game; and had the winning run on first with two outs.

We were lucky to get the second out on a baserunning gaffe; D.K. was on the ropes. I had already visited him once, so I couldn’t go to the mound again without taking him out. He was still throwing well; only one of the hits was really tagged.

Dmitri Young came up to pinch-hit, and I bit my lip and stayed with my pitcher. Young hit a sharp ground ball to Biggio to end the rally.

We went to the bottom of the eighth tied, and came out of it up 7-4 on a three-run triple by — who else? — Biggio.

Tom Martin got them out in the ninth, but not without putting men on second and third. It was another nerve-wracking game, but somehow it did not bother me, like last-night’s game.

I suppose we all worry about failure. I certainly don’t want to lose – ever — but I am afraid of being embarrassed, like anyone else.

Mark McGwire

If the Cardinals had won last night against Wagner, it would have been big. But because they didn’t, they couldn’t gain the momentum of a sweep. A win is a win, and vice versa. But some wins are “more pregnant” than others. Can you be more pregnant?  In baseball, sure.

The press coverage of the series was great. Attendance was way above average. We continue to play good baseball, and some of our wayward souls are returning to the flock.

One shadow looms ominously in the wings of tomorrow: Mark McGwire. Word is that the Cardinals have a deal made for him, if they can negotiate a long-term contract with the slugger.

Am I worried? A little. Could he make up seven games in two months? Only if we let him.

The burden of proof is still on them. If we play well, they can’t catch us.  

TUESDAY, JULY 29 ● Houston, vs St. Louis

I talked with Laura Lynn last night. She is really going crazy, trying to keep up with the team.

Laura and Larry

She lives in the small town of Wrightwood, in the San Bernardino mountains, just an hour from Los Angeles. Most of the people who live there are escapees from the rat race of LA.

Laura is a teacher. She is a mom. Her kids don’t eat red meat. They always buckle up. And they don’t have cable TV. This sort of healthy, insular lifestyle suited her just fine — until I got this job.

She has always had the mothering instinct. Now she is showing the “sistering” instinct, too.

When I was an announcer, she only had a casual interest in the team. Now she seeks out scores like a habitual gambler. She listens to the Dodgers on radio — even though she doesn’t like them — just to keep up with the Cardinals, Pirates, and of course, the Astros.

When she is down in LA, she watches every game on the satellite, even though it makes her nervous. It used to be that she would check with her sources in Wrightwood to see how we were doing; now they are calling her.

She may be in the checkout line at the grocery store, and someone will come up to her and say, “The Astros are up 4-3. Cardinals lost again.” In talking to her about these things, I realize what a profound effect my career change has had on my friends and relatives.

The stacks of mail grow with every win. Folks want autographs. They want to suggest a little lineup change that will get us over the top. The writers and TV people come by earlier now.

The pressure is on – big-time.

Biggio got us on the board tonight with a two-run homer in the third. The way Donovan Osborne was pitching, I wasn’t sure we would ever score, but he made one mistake — and he paid for it.

Donovan Osborne

I was hoping La Russa would pinch-hit for Osborne, leading off the sixth inning. He did, and Scott Livingstone grounded out. Delino DeShields came up and bunted for a hit. Royce Clayton followed with a double, and Ray Lankford drove in a run, grounding out to Bagwell.

Ron Gant was next. If he was hot, I’d have walked him, because he has given Shane Reynolds a lot of trouble over the years. Shane got him out this time, we kept the short lead.

Mark Petkovsek

Mark Petkovsek came in to pitch for the Redbirds. He is from Beaumont, Texas, and he grew up an Astros fan. We had him earlier in his career, before he blossomed into a fine relief pitcher.

For some reason, Mark has had trouble here. Maybe it’s the pressure of having family and friends at the game. Whatever the reason, we got to him again.

A two-out hit by Ausmus made it 3-1. Reynolds struggled through a scoreless seventh, then we added another run off Petkovsek on a two-out hit by James Mouton.

I was hoping Mike Magnante could hold them for an inning, but Sean Berry made an error and then Magnante walked Deshields. I kicked myself for being greedy and leaving Berry in there; he was scheduled to hit in the bottom of the eighth, and I was hoping to get him one more at-bat.

By the time Mike got Royce Clayton out, Wagner was ready. Lankford, their leading home-run hitter, was up — representing the tying run. I went to Wagner, and he struck out Lankford.

After a long battle, Gant singled to center and Chuckie Carr bobbled the ball, letting both runners advance. Now it was 4-2, and the tying run was on second. Wagner promptly threw a curve ball in the dirt, allowing Deshields to score. Billy struck out Dmitri Young on a 3-2 pitch.

I was tempted to pinch-hit for Bogar when we got a man on second with two outs in the bottom of the eighth, but I didn’t want to take my best-fielding shortstop out of the game. Bogar came through with a hit, and we led 5-3.

But the Cardinals weren’t finished. Wagner’s control was erratic, and he didn’t really have his best fastball.

He promptly walked Willie McGee. Then he got two outs. Then he walked Gaetti. He got two strikes on DeShields, and the crowd rose in an anticipatory victory cheer and settled back down with a groan when Deshields singled McGee home to make it 5-4.

Billy had gone past 40 pitches. He wasn’t throwing nearly as hard as he usually does, and his control was terrible.

I sensed a pivot point.

If we won, the next game would be up for grabs. But if they came from behind to beat Wagner, we would be hard-pressed to turn them around the next day.

But Wagner struck out Clayton on three pitches.

I was rubber-legged. It was clearly the most-intense finish of the year. We have stretched our lead to six games. And even if we lose tomorrow, we will have a comfortable margin over the Cardinals and the Pirates, who had already lost to the surging Dodgers.

It took me a while to wind down from this one. I didn’t even try to eat until much later. I finally got home at 11:45, and I wasn’t able to give it up until almost three a.m.

MONDAY, JULY 28 ● Houston, vs St. Louis

I slept nine hours, and I felt great upon awakening. Ryan is going to a baseball camp at the Dome this week. I have to have him out there at noon, so I will be able to catch up on some paperwork. As we drove into town, I asked him about his game.

“I’m just about up with most of them in fielding,” he said. “But my hitting isn’t as good. I get a lot of hits, but some of our guys hit the ball harder than I do. I might change teams.”

This caught me by surprise; I knew he wasn’t playing much on the Stars, but thought he liked the guys and the coaches. Now, it seems, another team is forming in our neighborhood. He is hopeful that he can make it. But I sense he has lost some confidence; maybe this clinic will help him.

I know one thing: If he still wants to play this winter, I have to try to help him more than in the past. If he could make this new team, he would be playing with kids who will go to the same high school. At this point our goal — his and ours — is to play high-school baseball. I continue to think that he will be good enough to pitch, but it wouldn’t hurt to improve the hitting and fielding — just in case.           

As it turned out, the Dome clinic was a waste of time. He only got to field a few balls and hit a few. He didn’t get to pitch at all, until I came down afterward and caught him.

I was hoping he would be challenged, but instead, he was bored. Most of the kids were younger, and there were only five or six instructors for roughly 100 kids.

So now he is going to go to a clinic in the morning at the University of Houston. Maybe he will get more out of it, because the kids will all be his age. I have a hunch, however, that if he is going to get a lot better, we are going to have to spend a lot of time together, one-on-one.

Gerry came by before batting practice, and I asked him if I should try to talk to Tal Smith about Derek. He said that Tal was involved in meetings regarding the new stadium, and he had been tied up all day. Gerry said he would invite him to come down to the field during BP if the meeting broke up in time.

In the meantime, I looked up some pertinent numbers:

Career on-base average: Merced .364    Bell .328

Career slugging average: Merced .432    Bell .424.

Merced is 30 years old and Bell is 28.

Merced is a professional baseball player; Bell is an occasional baseball player. I’m not going to belabor this subject; it won’t do me any good. We’re going to win it or lose it with Bell, and I’m confident we can do it.

But I wonder what will happen if I stop playing him?  If I really want to field my best team, I can’t play him every day.

I played him today, however. He went 0-for-3 with a walk, and he made a spectacular catch.

Our streak ended at nine, and the Cardinals kept their hopes alive with a 2-1 victory.

We played good ball except for an error by Bogey on a line drive by Royce Clayton; the ball hit in his glove and popped out. Clayton ended up scoring the first run of the game.

We never really threatened Todd Stottlemyre. He pitched a marvelous game, as I feared he would.

This guy is a tremendous competitor. He not only pitched eight scoreless innings, he also drove home the winning run with an eighth-inning double, and he was thrown out trying to stretch it to a triple.

Dennis Eckersley came in to get the save; Bagwell greeted him with a home run. Gonzo was called out on a 2-2 pitch, and he really let home plate umpire Rich Rieker have it. Rieker allowed him to blow off a little steam, but when Gonzo persisted, Reiker kicked him out of the game. Gonzo charged the umpire, and I had to race out of the dugout to get in between them; I can’t afford to have a good player suspended for any length of time.

Gonzo responded fairly well to my intervention. I felt like I should have said something to the umpire, but I wasn’t sure Gonzo was right. I figured he probably was, but who knows? It’s embarrassing to get called out on strikes. Sometimes an argument is really about saving face.

Derek struck out, then Sean Berry reached on an error. Mouton ran for Berry and stole second on the first pitch to Ausmus. Brad hit the second pitch hard, but right at Clayton. Clayton bobbled it, but he got the throw off in time. It was wild high-and-inside, and Gaetti had to leap off the bag to catch it. Luckily for him, he came down right on top of Brad and tagged him out.

The way the game finished showed how hard the Cardinals were pressing for the win. They didn’t show much poise, but they had tremendous intensity. This could be one helluva series.

We only had an advance sale of 14,000, but 12,000 more showed up — and the way they were yelling in the ninth, they sounded like 40,000. There were also at least twice the usual number of  reporters at the postgame conference.

The theme of my remarks was my admiration of Stottlemyre’s performance, and kudos for the gritty Redbirds. As hard as I try, I can’t get the writers to write what I want the other team to see in the paper. The writers tend to take snippets of what I say and use them out of context. I can’t say I was misquoted, but I frequently feel that they have conveniently missed the point.

For example, they didn’t use anything I said about Stottlemyre, which would have absolved our hitters of blame and would have given credit to the opposition.

When I was asked about “a game of inches,” I talked about a ball Thomas Howard hit with men on first and second and one out in the eighth.  It was a liner up the middle, and Clayton turned it into a double play.

“I don’t know why he was playing there,” I said. “Tank usually hits a lot of balls the other way — especially with two strikes.”

This made the paper, and it was phrased in such a way as to make it sound like I was whining and that the Cardinals were lucky to get away with a mistake.

When I was asked about the importance of the game, I talked about Stottlemyre’s effort; about some of our great fielding plays; about Holt’s pitching; and about Bagwell’s home run.

“If you want to know how important a series this is, all you have to do is look at the left side of their infield. You could tell how hard they were pressing in the ninth. They really wanted this one.”

The only part that made the paper is the part in italics. 

After a thousand words of praise, all the Cardinals will read about is my saying that they were lucky and that they were pressing.

The last thing I want to do is to say things that will inspire the other team. And that is the first thing Alan Truex wants to write. He has made some of our players so mad that they won’t talk to him.

I don’t have that luxury, but I do have editorial control. In the future, I will not elaborate on anything if he is around. I will simply keep my answers short and boring. If fighting words come out, they will have to be his — not mine.

We are now just three days away from the trading deadline. I did not see Tal today; I hope to see him tomorrow.  

SUNDAY, JULY 27 ● Houston, vs Montreal

Proceeding apace often involves sleep deprivation. I was so excited, I didn’t turn out the bedside lamp on Body and Soul until 3:15. Cubby was at the door at 10:00, ready to go. I barely had time to eat a bowl of cereal and read the paper.

Oftentimes, we don’t take batting practice on Sunday. The hitters practice on their own in the cages, and we take infield practice, just to get our arms and legs loosened up.

Today, we had another problem in this regard.

Just before game time, I was having a cup of coffee in the lunchroom, which is adjacent to the locker room. Russ Springer came by, smiling, and said, “You better get in there.”

I thought it was going to be a practical joke, but it was quite the opposite:

Derek and Bill were face-to-face, and Biggio, Bagwell, and Gonzalez had rushed between them.

In the aftermath, I learned that it was about infield again. Bill asked Derek why he didn’t participate; Derek said he was hitting in the cage.

Bill said, “You should have done that earlier.” Derek took offense.

Bill is as forthright as a drill sergeant. This doesn’t play too well with some of the modern players. Most of them get to like him when they realize how much he knows, how hard he works, and how much he likes to see them succeed.

With Derek, it is different. He thinks Bill has been on his case all year, unnecessarily. He thinks Bill is picking on him. This time, Bill’s inquiry resulted in a shouting match — and could have erupted into a fistfight. It was pretty bad.

The guys on the team know that Derek is a slacker; they just shrug and accept it. If he returns to form, he can help us — and he is showing some signs of improvement.

The question is: Will he continue to improve his hitting, and get in shape for running the bases and playing the outfield?

I have my doubts.

I decided not to do anything like take him out of the lineup. But I also called Gerry and asked him to come down after the game.

The game was another beauty. Mike Hampton went all the way, and Sean Berry was a force, going 2-3 with a home run, a triple, and three RBI. We won our ninth in a row, 7-2.