Category: Rookie Manager’s Journal

THURSDAY, JUNE 26 ● Chicago, vs Cubs

I arose at 9:00 this morning, feeling better. At 9:10, the phone rang, and it was Gerry. We had talked about sending Donne Wall down and bringing up Tommy Greene. Gerry wanted me to discuss it with Vern and call him this morning. Vern and I talked on the airplane, and neither of us had a problem with the move.

Donne just isn’t pitching well now, and the report is that Tommy Greene has added some velocity — which is what we were hoping for when we sent him back at the end of spring training. 

True to form, Gerry wants to get on with it. He asked me to call Donne up to my room and give him the news, then have Donne call Barry Waters and make his travel arrangements, then call Rob Matwick to arrange the press release.

Tommy Greene will be here in the morning, and he will take Donne’s turn in the rotation on Sunday. Gerry wants Donne to pitch on Sunday in New Orleans.

I hope Donne takes it well, but I’m not optimistic. He has not pitched well, but like most players, he feels that he will get back on track. He will likely think that he didn’t get a good-enough chance. He may decide not to report to New Orleans right away.

Funny how that works: when you call a guy up, he gets there the same day. When you send him down, it sometimes takes a week to complete the journey.

 

I got Judy and Ryan up, and rushed them out of the room. I called Vern to come up and assist me. Then I called Donne, and he wasn’t in his room, so I left him a voice message to call me. It was about 9:45 at the time.

Vern came up, and we reviewed what we would tell Donne. When he still hadn’t called at 11:00, I told Vern to take off.

“I’ll call you when he calls me,” I said. “If you’re not in, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it myself.”

           

I waited around until 1:30, hoping there would be something resembling lunch at the ballpark. The phone rang, and it was Donne. I called Vern, and he arrived with Donne about 1:35.

Sometimes, these guys slay you with their tenuous grasp of reality.  Sometimes, though less often, they face the facts and don’t make excuses. Donne was a true professional.

When we cut him at the end of spring training, he was mad. He didn’t think Sid Fernandez should make the team ahead of him. He was right: Sid made one start and then headed for the disabled list. Who knows what would have happened to Donne if we had picked him instead, and put him in the rotation?

All we know now is that he pitched well for the Zephyrs and then made one good start for us before he pulled a hamstring. After that, he just couldn’t get it together.

“I know I’ve been horseshit,” he said. “I was sort of expecting this. I just wish it could have happened in Houston, before I came all the way up here.”

We told him what we thought he needed to do to get back. It pretty much jibed with what he knew he had to do: get command of his fastball and changeup. He asked when and where to report, expressed interest in making his next start, and vowed to be back.

Why is it that guys like this are seldom blessed with great ability?

 

What a ballpark! The weather was perfect, and so was Wrigley. Built in 1916 for the Chicago Whales of the Federal League, it is still the best park in the league. Hippo Vaughn and Fred Toney pitched the only double-no-hitter here. Gabby Hartnett hit his “homer in the gloamin’.” Ernie Banks hit his 500th home run.

And then there were lights.

This was a night game, and much more. It started at 7:05 ,with right field bathed in sunlight. It ended 3 hours and 45 minutes later, in darkness for the Cubs and in hopeful victory for the Astros.

 

As with most great games, you never could have predicted it at the beginning. Chris Holt started for us, Frank Castillo for them.

They grabbed a 1-0 lead in the second. We bounced back in the third. At the time, Bill asked me if I wanted to do anything with Tim Bogar on first with one out.

“No,” I said. “I want Bidge to pick a pitch to hit. I think we’re going to launch one off this guy.”

Three pitches later, Biggio hit one onto Waveland Avenue. 

Chucky Carr, in his first game wearing Astros livery, walked and stole second and came home on a single by Luis González.

The Cubs came back to tie the game in the fourth. They had runners on second and third, and Scott Servais due. Scott has hit us hard since we traded him to the Cubs. The next hitter was Castillo, one of the weakest-hitting pitchers in the league. The Cubs’ leadoff man, Brian McRae, was 0-for-his-last-25 at-bats.

Normally, I don’t walk the 8th hitter in this situation; I try to get him out so that we can face the pitcher leading off the next inning. In this case, I was sure Holt would get Castillo out, and I didn’t mind McRae leading off the next inning, so I ordered an intentional pass. Castillo lined Holt’s first pitch into right for a two-run single.

We went up 4-3 in the fifth on Carr’s RBI double. We added a run in the sixth on a homer by Ausmus, and another in the seventh on an RBI single by Bell.

Holt was scuffling through the game, as he often does. In the seventh, he just couldn’t find the plate. He got behind pinch-hitter Dave Hansen, who singled. Then he walked McRae and hit Brant Brown.

I brought José Lima into the game and he pitched well, allowing only one of the runs to score.

Ryne Sandberg and Dave Clark singled off Lima to open the eighth. When the count went to 2-2 on Servais, I had an ominous feeling. We were leading 6-4 when I went to the mound and brought Billy Wagner into the game. Servais fouled a few pitches, then hit a looping single to center. Now it was 6-5, and the Cubs had runners at first and third.

Back to the mound I trekked.

The infielders wanted to know where to play. Ausmus wanted to know whether to throw through on a steal attempt. I said to play back and throw through.

Well, what do you know? My instinct was right. Biggio didn’t complain about playing back, especially after McRae hit a high chopper to short for a double play. If we had been playing in, the ball might have bounced over Bogar’s head.

But this was a day when Wagner didn’t have it. The Cubs got an RBI double from Mark Grace in the ninth to tie the score.

We were three-and-a-half hours into the game as we turned to the tenth inning. Luckily, we scored a run on four consecutive singles. The last one was a shot by Bagwell that got to leftfielder Glanville in a hurry, giving him time to throw home. He was so deep in left that I thought Biggio would score easily, but the throw was strong and true. Bidge slid in, and seeing that he was out, popped up and hit Servais with a forearm shiver. Servais not only held the ball, he miraculously sat up and threw to third to get Carr on a tag play. It was the best and most-exciting play of the year so far.

We were up 7-6 now, but Wagner was finished. I held my breath while Blas Minor closed out the victory.

 

We didn’t get back to the hotel until almost midnight, and with a day game tomorrow, there was scant time for celebration. I did meet Rick and Susan, Judy, and Ryan for a beer and a snack. They seemed to enjoy Wrigley. 

It was quite an introduction to this ballpark — a park that has seem some of the wildest games on record.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 25 ● Pittsburgh, vs Pirates

I said hello to Biggio this morning. He did not acknowledge the greeting.

Nice start. 

At least we have Darryl “The Dependable” Kile going for us. Their pitcher, Steve Cooke, is a soft-tossing lefty — the kind of pitcher who drives us crazy. Still, I felt good about my lineup. It always looks better with Bidge leading off.

 

Chuck Carr came in with Gerry, and we spelled out what we expected from him. I told him that he would start most of the time for the next two weeks, and then we would evaluate his performance and the team’s needs.

“I want you to know going in that you may end up as a part-time player,” I said. “I can’t guarantee that you will be the regular centerfielder. I know this has been a problem elsewhere, but we can’t have that problem here. Is that understood?”

He said it was.

Gerry explained that Bobby Abreu was going out for a rehab assignment, and that he would be playing some center field when he came back.

Everything was hunky-dory with Chucky. What could he say?

 

Lance Berkman’s father, Larry, came in with Gerry a few minutes later. We had a nice visit. His father is a big, strong, rawboned man, which suggests that Lance might get a little stronger still. He hit 41 home runs at Rice this year, so he is pretty strong already.

Larry Berkman expressed his happiness with the way we handled the negotiations. He is excited about coming to see his son play major-league baseball. The family lives in New Braunfels, Texas, near San Antonio, only a couple of hours away. With our power shortage this year, I am hoping he progresses speedily through the system. We have only one problem if he does: his best position is first base, and we happen to have a pretty good first-baseman by the name of Bagwell.

Lance will start in the Florida State League. He will be a left-fielder.

 

The game today ran true to form. Cooke was only throwing 83 MPH, throwing even slower pitches, curves, and changeups, quite a bit. We were barely getting the ball out of the infield, and we were down 1-0 on an RBI double by Jose Guillen as we came up to hit in the seventh inning.

At this point, I made an unusual move: I used Ricky Gutierrez to pinch-hit for Tim Bogar leading off the inning. Ricky grounded out. With one out, the next move would be to hit for Kile. But I didn’t want him out of the game. He struck out.

Biggio reached second on Dale Sveum’s throwing error, and went to third on a wild pitch. I signaled for Cubby to alert James Mouton to the possibility of a bunt hit. James took the initiative, and he dropped it down perfectly; Biggio scored to tie the game.

When Biggio came into the dugout, I reached out my hand to congratulate him, and he ignored me while slapping hands with everybody else. Bill looked at me and smiled.

“I guess he’s not over it yet,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll be all right.”

I was worried, though. My stomach was still in knots, and my neck was still stiff.

Kile survived a two-out scare, and in the top of the eighth, the Pirates had pinch-hit for Cooke. Derek Bell greeted the new pitcher, Clint Sodowsky, with a long home run in the bottom of the inning.

With one out, Tony Eusebio walked. Now I had a decision to make.

We had already talked about whether we should pinch-run with Ausmus. If we did that, I was inclined to bring Billy Wagner into the game, because I didn’t want to change catchers on Kile.

Bill made the decision for me; he sent Ausmus in to run. I didn’t think we had come to a conclusion on this subject, but Bill apparently did. Maybe he just wanted Wagner in there anyway. I didn’t mind, myself, and probably would have come to that conclusion on my own.

Ausmus moved up on a slow ground ball. I pinch-hit Bill Spiers for Kile, and Gene Lamont switched to a lefthanded pitcher, Matt Reubel. I asked Bill if he thought I should hit with Listach, and he was noncommittal.

“It would probably be better from an offensive standpoint, but who do you want to play defense?” he asked.

That confirmed my instinct. We already had the lead.

I let Spiers hit, knowing that if we did not score or they tied the game, I would still have Listach available, and I would still have a better defensive infield in the game.

Spiers made me look good, as he has so often this year. He doubled down the first-base line, and we led 3-1.

Pirates manager Gene Lamont walked Biggio and brought hard-throwing Rich Loiselle into the game. Now I had to make another decision: I could hit with switch-hitter Chucky Carr and improve my outfield defense, or let Mouton swing. James is a good fastball hitter. I let him hit, and I was rewarded with a two-run double.

Biggio ignored me again as he passed through the welcoming line.

I was still pretty upset, but at least I didn’t have to worry about losing the game anymore. Wagner came in and struck out the side.

 

After the game and the postgame press conference, I talked with the coaches again. They reassured me that I had done the right thing. The consensus was that he would get over it, and we would be better off for my having done it.

           

We are heading out on a four-day trip to Chicago, and it is our family trip. We will have more than 30 children with us, including Ryan Dierker. He has been wanting to go to Chicago for several years.

When we got to the hotel, Uncle Rick and Aunt Susan were there to greet us. They want to see Wrigley Field, and I don’t blame them. It’s a great ballpark. Ryan wanted to go up to the top of the Hancock Building, which is right across the street from the hotel. The view, with all the twinkling lights, was impressive, but I think it would be better in the daytime.

We had a bite to eat in the coffee shop and called it a day.

TUESDAY, JUNE 24 ● Houston, vs Pittsburgh

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

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

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

“We sure do,” I replied.

“Why? What’s up?”

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

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

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Biggio,” I said.

“Biggio,” he said, with a sigh.

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

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

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

“What?” he said, incredulous.

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

“You’re not serious.”

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

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

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

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

           

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The feeling didn’t last long.

 

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

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

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

           

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

MONDAY, JUNE 23 ● Houston, vs Pittsburgh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SUNDAY, JUNE 22 ● Houston, vs Cubs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

SATURDAY, JUNE 21 ● Houston, vs Cubs

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

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

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

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

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

           

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

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

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

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

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

“Hernandez,” Biggio said.

“Perfect,” I said.

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

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

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

FRIDAY, JUNE 20 ● Houston, vs Cubs

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

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

It’s a dog’s life.

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THURSDAY, JUNE 19 ● off-day in Houston

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

McLANE PONDERS MOVE TO NL WEST

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 18 ● Kansas City, vs Royals

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

There are few clearcut choices in this business.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gerry was watching from the other end of the bench.

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

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

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

 

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

Wrong.

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

Yeah, right!

TUESDAY, JUNE 17 ● Kansas City, vs Royals

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

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

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

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

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

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

Naturally, we didn’t manufacture anything tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

           

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

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

           

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

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

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

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

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

Where does this put Vern and me?

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

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

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

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

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

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