Category: Rookie Manager’s Journal

THURSDAY, APRIL 17 ● travel to LA

Today was an off-day — meaning we don’t have a game, but we do have to travel.

The last few years, traveling secretary Barry Waters has been scheduling the flights later and later. It’s a good idea. Why not spend most of the open date at home?

Today we left for Los Angeles at 7:30 p.m., and I needed the whole day to work off my loan of a Chevy Tahoe for a year.

At first, the deal was that I would cut several radio spots, and one for television. Then it was that I would cut two TV spots — one at the start of the season and one midway through.

What we ended up doing today was four TV spots. I don’t have a big problem with working one whole day for a year’s use of a car, but I would like to know what I’m getting into in advance.

My old broadcast partner, Milo Hamilton, has been trying to get off TV for at least five years. He likes to give direction, rather than take it. In TV, the announcers are functionaries: guys who help guide the audience from one chart or graph to another. There is not a lot of time for developing a theme or telling a story. Instead, there are a lot of sponsored segments and game action in between.

The play-by-play announcer on television is like a master of ceremonies. Milo likes to be a master of ceremonies, but he also likes to be part of the ceremony. He likes to do it his way. In the world of video, this is impossible.

I gained a great deal of respect for Milo’s position today. Making four commercials took seven hours. My part probably took no more than one of those hours. The other elements — the set, the lighting, the sound, the extras, the camera angles, the script changes — took the rest.

I didn’t really mind so much, except that I was supposed to spend the late afternoon with Judy and Julia. I haven’t seen much of Julia since I left for spring training. When it became clear that I couldn’t finish the commercials in time to drive home and pack my bags and get back to the Dome in rush-hour traffic, I told the crew I would have to leave in midafternoon and come back to finish. If I didn’t get caught in traffic, I might be able to finish the shoot before we departed.

Unfortunately, Calvin Murphy of the Rockets was scheduled to do one spot with me at 2:30. I didn’t get back until 4:00, and Calvin was good about it, but I could tell he wasn’t happy. I didn’t blame him, or myself. That’s just the way it goes in TV. Because Calvin is a TV guy these days, I think he understands.

           

The one thing I was happy about was the creative work of the agency. I was a little hesitant to do a car commercial, but since Julia cracked up her car, a car deal became hard to refuse. Even so, I was not about to bang my hand down on a hood and come on like an auto evangelist.

Luckily, these spots were funny. They contained some nuts-and-bolts information, but it was done in a way that did not embarrass me, and it could actually help me get more commercial work. In the last one, I had to swing a golf club and hit balls while I was pitching the dealership. This was quite challenging, because four extras in Astros uniforms were standing about fifty yards away from me, trying to catch my wedge shots with baseball gloves. Ordinarily, the fifty-yard wedge shot is about the weakest part of my game. I usually tighten up at the bottom of the swing and hit the ball poorly, with little touch.

Oddly enough, I was able to lob these wedges to the fielders with considerable accuracy, while talking about volume selling and customer satisfaction. Most of my concentration was on the script; almost none on the shots. This leads me to believe that if I can just suspend thinking on this type of shot when we play at Torrey Pines on Monday, I will solve my most persistent problem in golf.

This is a pipe dream, I know. It’s like Milo thinking he can either take himself off TV or take control of it. Neither of these things is likely to happen.

 

Luckily for me, Julia was home when I got there. We had 15 minutes to share. Not much, but better than nothing. When we arrived in Los Angeles, I took a taxi to my folks’ house in the Valley. My brother Rick and his wife Susan were there to greet me. We kept Mom and Dad up until 1:30 (3:30 body time) and had a great visit.

I finished my book, The Last Picture Show, before falling off to sleep. The book was better than the movie, and I have decided that it is better to see the movie first — at least five years in advance.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 16 ● Houston, vs Montreal

Well, the video was inconclusive. It looked like Rodriguez hit the ball pretty well. The next time up, he went out on the second pitch, and it was impossible to see if he used a different bat.

Riding to the park with Cubby, I asked how to handle a bat challenge, because the rulebook was not clear on procedure and remedies. What he told me made so much sense, I don’t know how I failed to think of it:

You simply ask the umpire to confiscate the bat and have it checked. At the same time, you protest the game on a rule violation. If the bat is corked, you win and get to start over from that point on. If it is not, you drop your protest.

The checking process takes time. It is not free. Before I go out and make another team mad by taking one of their bats, I’ll have to be pretty sure I’m right. It might never happen.

 

Tonight’s game was a laugher. We won 10-2, with Shane Reynolds going the distance on a three-hit, 10-strikeout masterpiece. He even hit a two-run double. We scored six runs in the third inning, and never looked back.

I was feeling carefree about midway through, and I let my guard down when there were still issues that demanded attention.

The first was whether or not to try for more runs. That may seem a silly question, but with Shane out there striking everyone out, the Expos may have gotten the impression that we were rubbing their noses in it, which is a sore spot for most managers.

My feeling was that as long as we had a six-run lead, we would play conservatively: no stealing, no hitting-and-running, no bunting for hits.

When Reynolds gave up two runs in the fifth, I was suddenly in a losable game again. Wagner was out of action for the night with elbow pain, and I was still three innings away from Hudek. Reynolds settled down in the sixth, and we scored another run in the bottom of the frame.

Even the extra run struck momentary fear into my heart, as Bagwell came roaring around third base; when he went to slide at home, Bell’s bat was laying right in front of the plate, like a land mine. Jeff switched from a feet-first slide to a forward leap and sidelong tumble that allowed him to touch the plate with his hand.

He landed so hard that I thought he might be hurt. Fortunately, he smiled and gave Luis González a palms-up, why-didn’t-you-clear-the-bat-away gesture.

I was relieved, but the crash landing made me think about the time he has missed with broken bones in his hand. He easily could have broken a bone with that slide, and probably would have been better off to go feet-first, over the bat.

 

In the bottom of the seventh, we had a five-run lead. Spiers and Ausmus walked to open the inning. Reynolds was up, and I called for the bunt. Spiers kept dancing off second, like he wanted to steal third. Because we were way ahead, the Expos weren’t trying to hold him.

On the 2-1 pitch, I put on the steal sign, and Spiers did a double-take and asked to see the sign again. There wasn’t time, and he didn’t go, and Reynolds fouled it off trying to bunt.

Reynolds got his third and last try at bunting 2-2, and he struck out on a foul ball. Biggio and Bagwell followed with doubles, and we scored three runs to put the game out of reach.

I thought I had learned a valuable lesson about not getting overconfident and letting my mind wander; little did I know there would be more ponderables after the game.

The first came when Biggio asked me what I was thinking about when I had Shane bunting with two strikes. He didn’t know at that time that Spiers was supposed to steal and didn’t. Biggio felt like we were rubbing it in.

But I felt like Shane needed to bunt, because there will come a game where his bunt could be the difference between winning and losing. There is no better way to practice than to do it in the game. If the Expos were surprised, it didn’t show; third-baseman Shane Andrews charged hard on every attempt.

After Biggio came Spiers. He asked if the bunt was on — not in a critical way, but just to know. I think these guys today like to know what your theory is. They really analyze the game, and that is good. I do think, however, that they feel we have a team put away before the manager or coaching staff feels that way.

“The way I look at it, Billy, is that they are inviting you to steal by spreading their middle infielders,” I said. “I could tell by the way you were moving that you could get a great jump.

“Now, I also could have put the ‘don’t run’ sign on, to be a gentleman. But would Felipé Alou move his middle infielders in close, to guard against the steal, and thereby give our hitters a better chance to get a hit? No way.

“If he’s not going to hold runners, I am going to run. If he wants to hold the runner, I’ll shut down the running game. It’s that simple.

“Maybe if we had a 10-run lead with two innings left, I’d just quit. But I’ve seen this team lose a nine-run lead with three innings left. You gotta get the wins when you can, and get in the habit of taking what the other team gives you.”

Billy seemed satisfied with my explanation — and so did Biggio, for that matter. I think these guys appreciate being able to come up and talk to me about these things. And I am glad they are doing it.

We will get where we want to go faster if we go together.

TUESDAY, APRIL 15 ● in Houston, vs Montreal

Today is Tax Day. Once again, I am filing an extension. It’s hard to get it done when you are out of town in March and April. 

I wish they would go to a consumption tax. It would certainly make things a lot easier, and it would capture a lot of money that is currently passing under the table. It would also encourage savings, which would be a boon to the government down the line, because they tax you more for dying than for working.

           

A bottle of champagne greeted me when I got to the ballpark. It came with a card from Rodger Brulotte, the Expos’ French announcer. I think about how much the Expos have struggled to stay in the league, usually coming up a little short of first place, a little short on paid admissions. I think the announcers do pretty well there. But the franchise seems in constant jeopardy, which must be disconcerting to a French announcer.

Still, Rodger seems as sunny a man as I have ever met. You might say hale fellow well met but he is so small that hale seems too large. I know he doesn’t get his pleasant disposition from the Montreal weather; perhaps he gets it from a higher source. When I saw him later, I thanked him and told him I would drink it in October.

 

After batting practice, I spoke with our team doctor, Bill Bryan, about Sid Fernandez.   I had forgotten that my son, Ryan, had seen him too.

Dr. Bryan told me that Ryan had a bone separation that was attributed to growth plates.

“It would be better if he didn’t play this summer.” he said. “He should be fine next year.”

The news on El Sid was inconclusive. He still has a lot of pain, and he cannot throw. But it seems like it is muscular, rather than nerve damage. This was good news, in a way: the muscles might recover rather quickly, but nerve damage likely would have ended his season — and his career.

           

The game with the Expos was relaxing — in the wrong sort of way.

Chris Holt was greeted by a pop-fly double that should have been caught. He made matters worse by trying to get the out at third on a bunt, failing miserably. After a strikeout, he yielded a single. Henry Rodriguez then hit an opposite-field homer to make it 4-0.

When he hit the ball, it sounded like his bat was made of cardboard — or maybe filled with cork. There is no way a sound like that is associated with an off-field homer in the Dome.

I looked at Bill Virdon and said, “That didn’t sound right.”

He agreed, but we let it slide. We were down 4-0, and when Pedro Martínez came out the mound, he was throwing 95 MPH. It looked like a loss in the making, but we still had a long way to go.

Holt tightened up and held them scoreless until the seventh. In the meantime, Russ Johnson hit his first big-league homer to make it 4-1.

In the seventh, Holt tired. He gave up a double to Shane Andrews, and a one-out RBI single to pinch-hitter Doug Strange. I came out to get Holt and brought in José Lima, who has been no mystery to National League batters in the early going. Lima gave up a triple to F.P. Santangelo and sacrifice fly to Mike Lansing. Now it was 7-1.

We got a run back in the seventh off Dave Veres on a triple by Gonzo and an RBI grounder.

In the eighth, we threatened again, and Felipé Alou went to this closer, Ugeth Urbina — the first double-U player in big-league history. With one out, Biggio and Abreu singled and then Bagwell hit a three-run homer on a 3-0 pitch.

Now it was 7-5, and I wished that I had brought Russ Springer into the game instead of Lima. Still, if Lima is going to be on the staff, we need for him to pitch enough to stay sharp; get sharp might be a better expression.

He doesn’t walk batters, but he sure throws a lot of pitches down the middle.

Springer pitched the top of the ninth, and Russ Johnson walked with one out in the bottom of the frame. I brought Thomas Howard up to hit for Listach, hoping for an extra-base hit. James Mouton would then hit for the pitcher, and then we would be at the top of the lineup with a chance to win.

It didn’t work out that way. Howard hit a check-swing grounder to short, and the game ended in a double play.

 

Afterward, Biggio came into my office, complaining about Rodriguez’ bat. “They got a guy that plugs them up there,” he said. “I know they’re cheating. No way he hit that ball good enough to leave in left field. We ought to get all his bats out of there tonight and have them X-rayed before the game tomorrow.”

I told him I would check on it, and I got out the rule book. As I read it, Rodriguez could be kicked out, fined, and suspended if caught. But I’m not sure this would help us. We can’t get the game back, because we did not protest at the time. And if we catch him tomorrow, his punishment will come when he is playing another team.

At any rate, I’m going to review a tape of the game to see what I can tell.

 

SUNDAY, APRIL 13 ● St. Louis, vs Cardinals

On Saturday night, St. Louis was vibrant; Sunday morning was cold and clear. The streets were deserted. I didn’t even see a bird as I walked through the park out in front of the Gateway Arch.

 

I was looking for two things: a haircut and a cigar. It didn’t take long to realize I wouldn’t find either. Downtown St. Louis was about as exciting as an intentional walk.

I took an intentional walk to the ballpark about 2:00, out of sheer boredom. ESPN invented the Sunday-night game to give the sports junkie one last fix before he must return to the workday world. I enjoy Sunday Night Football in the winter, but I don’t care much for Sunday Night Baseball. After Tiger Woods, our game with the Redbirds seemed rather insignificant.

Going in, I thought we had a real good shot at beating them. Alan Benes beat us a couple times last year, but I thought he was hittable. On our side, Mike Hampton had a better lifetime record against the Cardinals than any other team.

I don’t know if we were just as dead as the city, or whether Benes killed us. I think it was probably a little of both. 

Benes pitched shutout ball for the first seven innings, and Hampton ran into double trouble in the fifth, giving up four runs on four consecutive doubles, a ground ball, and a sacrifice fly. Four consecutive doubles ties a major-league record. Remarkably, they came on four consecutive pitches. The Cardinals took Benes out after seven, and we made a token comeback. We ended up losing the game 7-2.

 

Afterward, a few guys stayed around to commiserate. If there wasn’t anything to do on Sunday morning in St. Louis, there wasn’t going to be much on Sunday night.

The last two players in the clubhouse were Biggio and Bagwell. The Perfessor and I had just finished reviewing tape of Hampton’s double jeopardy, and we were on the way out when I noticed the right side of my infield.

“I’m going to stick around a little longer,” I told Vern.

This was an opportunity I’ve been looking for since our third game in Atlanta, when Lemke and Klesko pulled balls through the right side of the infield in double-play situations. I believe Biggio needs to play farther off the second-base bag and cut off part of the hole against lefthanded hitters. But this is a sensitive area. He is an infielder and an All-Star. He thinks he knows where to play, and he plays there for one reason: to win.

“If I were pitching with the second-baseman that close to the bag, I’d try for a fly ball or a strikeout,” I told him. “I’d try to keep him from hitting that hole, but that defeats the purpose of trying to get a double play.”

His contention is that the hole is going to be there anyway, as long as the first-baseman is holding the runner. This is clearly correct. What I am talking about is a matter of degree: the size of the hole.

“Look,” I said, pulling out a legal pad and a pencil. “Let’s pretend this is the infield and instead of running counterclockwise, we run to third first, and so on. 

“Now you are a righthanded batter. What would you try to do if the third-baseman was standing next to the bag and the shortstop was ten feet away from second?”

“I’d pull the ball through the hole,” he said. “That’s why lefthanded hitters have such an advantage.”

“Exactly,” I said. “But if we don’t cheat for the double play on the pull side, we close off part of the

hole.

“I know what you’re saying,” he said. “But if the ball is hit to short with me way off the bag, I can’t get there in time to make the double play.”

“That’s OK,” I said. “As a pitcher, I am happy to get an out and keep the runner on first. I have no problem with the force play. What bothers me is runners on first and third, without getting anyone out.”

“Hey, if that’s the way you want it, you’re the manager. We’ll play it the way you want it. It’s just that I’ve always been told that you have to get the double play when you have the chance.”

This process was beginning to track like the seams of the ball: round and round with artful curves, but never going anywhere.

Bagwell joined in at various intervals and added his insight, but he didn’t really change anything. The only conclusion we came to was that no matter where we played, there would be holes in the defense.

I asked Bidge to consider moving a little, to at least present a less-inviting image to the hitter.

“We’ll sort of keep track mentally and see how it goes,” I said.

The conversation then turned to the number-two-hitter spot. Biggio and Bagwell are concerned about this spot, because they hit first and third, respectively. 

Several times when we have rallied, the opposing team has pitched around Biggio because a weaker hitter — say, Pat Listach or Brad Ausmus — has been behind him. This dilemma is similar to the one I just mentioned to Biggio: you have to give up something to get something better.

If I move a stronger hitter to the two-spot, the end of the lineup is weak, and the opposing pitcher has a chance to have some easy innings.

I have been toying with the idea of putting Bobby Abreu up there. He is fast, has a good eye, he can bunt, and he hits the ball with authority. Actually, I have had this idea for some time, but Bobby is a rookie. I wanted to get him started at the end of the lineup, where there is not so much pressure.

If he hits second and Eusebio plays, we still have some clout down at the bottom. But then we give up our leadership behind the plate.

It is not an easy question to answer.

FRIDAY, APRIL 11 ● St. Louis, vs Cardinals

I was not so quotable tonight, though the day started á la bon vivant. Gerry and I went to lunch with John Rollins, the editor-in-chief of The Sporting News, at Harry’s in St. Louis. It was a fine meal all around: good food, good conversation. 

The only thing missing was the red wine and a fine Maduro cigar, but then, this was lunch, not dinner — and that is precisely why I don’t often “do” lunch.

The most interesting subject of discourse was baseball’s conspicuous lack of leadership. John mentioned that Paul Beeston of the Blue Jays has been rumored to become the Chief Operating Officer of baseball. That led to talk about commissioners.  A COO is fine, but it is clearly an advocate position.

The players have Don Fehr as Executive Director of the Players’ Association; why shouldn’t the owners have their man? 

Until a few years ago, the owners did have a commissioner on the payroll. But because the job was created in the aftermath of the Black Sox scandal for the purpose of restoring integrity to the game, it was thought to be a politically-neutral position.

There was only one small problem: the commish was paid only by the owners. Naturally, they have always considered him their man.

Over the years, baseball commissioners have thought themselves to be above and beyond politics; they have been guardians of the game as they see it. On more than a few occasions, commissioners from Kenesaw Mountain Landis to Fay Vincent have invoked the “best interests of baseball” clause in decisions that have had punishing effects on many owners.

Until Fay Vincent’s dismissal, the position has been respected by the owners because those punished have been in the minority. Now that the business of baseball is more complex, the owners want the man they pay to be an advocate, and that is fine. But they still need a commissioner, and so do the players.   

The logical solution to the problem is to have the players and owners agree on a commissioner, and to share the expenses of his office. The players would probably go for this idea, because they have been seeking a partnership role in the sport for many years. The owners, however, are generally immune to groupthink. They are mavericks who would never understand the concept of giving up control in order to gain it. And so, they will likely go on with no commissioner, and maintain an adversarial position with the players for the foreseeable future.   

Gerry has been with a big-market team and with a small-market team. He has seen both sides, and his opinion is that the industry will not find sanity on this side of Armageddon. I happen to agree with him. John Rollins does too.

It’s sad that so many people see the crash coming, but not enough of them are owners, to steer clear. That’s precisely why you need wine and cigars when you speak of these things. Then you can just go to sleep, and wake up in a new day. At lunch, you don’t have that option.

           

I should have known this would not be the best day when I pulled a calf muscle running across the street from the hotel to the ballpark in the rain. This is the third time I have felt this little burn in my left leg, and the third time was not a charm.

Cardinals shortstop Royce Clayton was having a different type of day. It started with a home run on Shane Reynolds’ first pitch.

I was a little disturbed when The Perfessor told me that Shane had his worst pregame warmup of the year. I could see that he wasn’t too fast, but I had faith that he could keep us in the game long enough to give us a chance to win.

The Redbirds are a M*A*S*H outfit these days. Many of their key players are wounded. If we could just hit Donovan Osborne like we did in Houston, we would still have a good chance to win.

Shane pitched out of the first with no further difficulty. In the third, the Cardinals scored another run. A Clayton double was the big blow.

We had a chance to tie the game or even take the lead in the second, but Clayton made two incredible plays to deny us even a single marker.

Later, we had the bases loaded with no outs and Biggio hit a long fly ball to center.  John Mabry, who usually plays right because of his ordinary speed, had enough dash to get there, and then made a spectacular catch. We had to settle for two runs when we could have had at least four.

Going into the bottom of the eighth, the game was tied at 2. Shane had thrown 102 pitches, and he seemed at least as good, if not better, than he was earlier.

He got Clayton out, then walked Mark Sweeney. Dimitri Young followed with a smash to Bagwell. Jeff threw the ball wide to Tim Bogar at short, and the relay back was a millisecond late. That brought Ron Gant to the plate.

I turned to Vern and said, “This guy has hit Shane well. But he’s not swinging that good now, and I don’t think Shane will make a mistake.”

Vern did not seem inclined to visit he mound; I really didn’t think he needed to. I was confident Shane wouldn’t give Gant a pitch to hit.

But he did.

Gant swung and missed at a split, and Ausmus called for another. Later, in the locker room, Shane told me, “You know how you said this spring that sometimes you don’t have a good feeling about a pitch that the catcher calls, and you throw it anyway? Well, that was the pitch. I knew he was looking for it, and I threw it anyway. I didn’t need anybody to come to the mound to tell me that. I just blew it.”

You may have guessed that Gant hit the pitch out of the ballpark. He did, and that was that. But I still thought we had a chance, even though Dennis Eckersley was coming into the game, looking for his first save of the year.

I had Pat Listach, Bill Spiers, and Thomas Howard ready, and they were a combined 10 for 14 off Eck. If two of them could get on, I had the top of the lineup due with Biggio, Mouton, and Bagwell.

Well, we never got to the top, because Eck struck out the side. It was a stunning blow to me, as I just assumed we would win the game. Even with the Cardinals’ great defense and the clutch pitching of Osborne, I thought we would win on health and ability alone. It was a good lesson, I think.

I felt relaxed during the game. Perhaps I should have been more vigilant. I don’t know if it would have changed anything, but it couldn’t have hurt.

We’re 6-4 now. If we play this well all season long, we’ll win our division. And we are bound to start hitting better. But can this great pitching hold up, or have we wasted the opportunity to have a really good winning streak?

           

The last day in Atlanta, Biggio asked me why I hadn’t been staying in the locker room after the bus left, to have a few beers with the boys. It was a good question. If we are going to develop the camaraderie we need to win a championship, I will have to be part of it.

This loss to the Cardinals was tough to take. I decided I should stick around and do a little commiserating. There wasn’t much to talk about, though. Ten or fifteen guys stayed late, but no one said much. There wasn’t much to say.

 

THURSDAY, APRIL 10 ● Atlanta, vs Braves

When I woke up this morning, I was a little concerned about tonight’s game with the Braves.

We have a rookie, Chris Holt, making his first start on the road; and the Braves are sending last year’s Cy Young Award winner, John Smoltz, to the mound. It is not critical that we win, but it is important that we establish ourselves on the road during this trip.

If we don’t win tonight, we will have to do it in St. Louis. The Cardinals are pretty banged-up right now, so it is a good time to play them; but the weather is terrible throughout the Midwest, which could be an equalizer.

I think our opening homestand went a long way toward the feeling of home superiority that you need to win a championship. You also need to play .500 ball on the road.

           

I didn’t have too much time to worry about these things; I was scheduled to appear at Planet Hollywood in downtown Atlanta for the taping of a sports show. I was accompanied by Rob Matwick; two of our announcers, Bill Brown and Vince Cotroneo; and several of Bill’s friends.

As we approached the building, we saw a banner that read

 

Welcome Houston Astros Manager Larry Dierker

 

The celebrity status afforded major-league managers continues to amaze me.

Planet Hollywood was jammed, but they had a table up front reserved for them and a stool for me. I was right in the middle of the room, where diners could stare at me from all angles. This would probably be somewhat intimidating to most big-league skippers, but it was old hat to me.

My experience in broadcasting does help in this job from time to time. I still feel better with a microphone than with a lineup card, but the dugout business is getting more comfortable every day.

The show only took about half an hour to tape. I said my goodbyes to the entourage and headed back to the hotel to pack, and to finish writing yesterday’s notes.

One thing I don’t have to worry about is eating. The clubhouses of the league are like short-order restaurants these days. This can be a real timesaver.

           

The first thing I did when I arrived at the clubhouse was to put an asterisk by the “infield” portion of our daily schedule. Then I changed into my uniform and had a chew.

I have found it more difficult than I expected to stop chewing before the game, and it’s sort of perplexing. I didn’t chew when I played, and I seldom chew during the offseason. But there is something about the pregame workouts that gets to me. It may be that I don’t have anything to do but watch. I am hoping to put an end to this soon.

Today I brought a couple of cigars to the park, and I smoked half of one after batting practice.

Infield came off without a problem. Biggio, Bagwell, and Bell skipped it; the rest of the guys took it. What it amounts to is two sets of rules: one for the stars and one for everyone else.

A lot of managers pay lip service to fair-and-equal treatment, but seldom pull it off. I’m not sure it’s worth much to even pretend. I think the players realize it’s going to be that way from the beginning.

In a way, it may offer a small incentive to the journeyman-type player. He has to know that he, too, will be patronized if he has a great year.

           

After infield, I talked with Vern and Gerry. Seems Sid is feeling shooting pains in his arm, and he may not be able to make the call on Saturday. If that happens, we will have to bring Mike Hampton and Darryl Kile back on three days’ rest.

I don’t think this will be a problem, because neither of them labored in their last start. Still, it is mildly disturbing that we have to keep a “Sid vigil” at all times. It would be easier to just call up Donne Wall and be done with it. But Sid can be extremely effective when he is healthy, so we will ride along with him a little longer.

           

Chris Holt was a little shaky in the first inning, but he managed to retire the side in order, partly because Brad Ausmus threw Kenny Lofton out stealing for the third time in the six games we have played with Atlanta. Most of the time, teams will be hesitant to run on him.

In the second inning, Bill Spiers connected with a 3-2 pitch and hit a two-run homer. Our comfort zone was invaded immediately when Fred McGriff hit a solo shot in the second.

The Braves turned up the heat in the third, with four base hits. Fortunately, one was an infield hit, and Bobby Abreu threw out Chipper Jones at the plate. The Braves only managed one run out of all that hitting.

In the fifth, Craig Biggio grounded to second to go 0-for-3 with a strikeout. He went ballistic in the dugout, and I was mildly amused. I call Bidge “Happy” because he always has to have something to complain about. Tonight, he graduated from Happy to Ecstatic.

Later in the inning, Jeff Bagwell hit a towering home run to center field. It was his first of the year, and it could not have come at a better time.

When Holt came into the dugout after the sixth inning, he went down to the end of the bench and put his jacket on. I walked down there and asked him, “Are you finished?”

He looked at me with a puzzled expression, and I said, “You’re the hitter if you can still pitch.” It was a serious statement on my part, because Holt had survived numerous rallies and still had a 3-2 lead. He immediately took off his jacket and headed for the bat rack. I followed him, and while he was selecting his weapon I said, “Look, you’ve thrown a lot of pitches and done a good job. If you’ve had it, that’s fine. We’ll get someone ready to take it from here.”

“No, I feel strong,” he said. “I don’t have any problem going back out there.”

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll send your jacket out when you get on base.” This was meant for comic relief, as Chris has a rather feeble batting stroke. He didn’t catch the humor, however, as he was lost in the game. He just nodded and went up to strike out.

Biggio grounded out again, but then Ausmus walked, stole second, and moved up to third on the overthrow.  Bagwell followed with a triple and scored on a wild pitch by Alan Embree. Now we had them 5-2, and they had three more chances to make their comeback.

Holt was, indeed, strong in the seventh. He got two quick outs, then Michael Tucker got an infield hit. With two strikes on Chipper Jones, Holt threw a curveball that looked like strike three but was called ball two. Given a reprieve, Jones swung late on a fastball but sliced it deftly down the left field line for an RBI double. Holt retired McGriff to complete a gutty performance. His line was

7IP 13H 3R 0BB 3K

Not bad for a rookie on the road against the best team in the league.

We failed to score in the seventh, but Bagwell hit a double in that frame. Now he only needed a single to hit for the cycle. I doubt anyone in the dugout was aware of that, but coming from the broadcast side, it hit me immediately.

Ramón Garcia pitched a scoreless eighth, and in the top of the ninth, Bagwell was on deck when Ausmus hit into an inning-ending double play.

I wanted Jeff to get that cycle. In fact, when Bill asked me if I wanted to steal with Montgomery, I said “no.” I was afraid he would get thrown out, and Bagwell wouldn’t get to hit. So much for strategic planning.

The Hudek card played well, however. John survived a nervous ninth inning to record his first save of the year.

 

It was a great win for the team — a win that had many implications:

• The Braves had won their first five games at Turner Field
• It was our first road win. I certainly didn’t want to get stigmatized as a weak road team
• It was a confidence-builder for Holt, Garcia, and Hudek
• It was the first evidence of the old Jeff Bagwell.

For me, the game had added significance with regard to Biggio. It seemed like he got mad when he struck out to open the game, and he stayed that way throughout.

In the Braves’ half of the third, Craig positioned himself up the middle for Michael Tucker with a man on first and Bagwell holding. This left a gaping hole on the right side of the infield. I have talked to him about not cheating for the double play in this situation, but old habits die hard.

Tucker singled to right. If Bidge had been playing straight up, he would have turned the grounder into a force play, at the very least.

Later in the same inning, in the same situation, he played in the same place for Ryan Klesko. Klesko pulled the ball through the hole, and now I was mad. But I also realized that Biggio was not in the most receptive mood at that moment.

A couple of innings later, the same situation came up. Cubby motioned for him to move over, and he moved about 10 feet to the right. The ball was hit right to him for a double play.

I will talk to him about this again tomorrow. And I’ll let him look at the situation from a hitter’s eyes, which will be easy for him; and also through a pitcher’s eyes, which may take some imagination on his part.

The pitcher’s perspective is this: With a man on first, you want the double play. It is much easier to get a ground ball on the “pull” side of the infield, because a hitter’s bat turns over, and slightly upward, at the end of the swing. Most ground balls go to the pull side; ground balls to the opposite field are uncommon. As a pitcher, I tried to get the hitter to do what he often does anyway: pull the ball on the ground.

But it’s a lefthanded hitter and the first-baseman is holding the runner while the second baseman is cheating up the middle, a pitcher doesn’t know what to do. If Biggio were the hitter and saw a hole like that, I know what he would try to do. That’s how I am going to pose the problem to him.

The other way to look at it is the case where the second-baseman is playing straight up, and the ball is hit on the ground to third or short. In this case it will often take the second-baseman so long to get to the bag that he cannot complete the twin-killing.

The downside, then, is a force at second. The downside of the other scenario is a single to right, with the runner at first advancing to third. There is nothing debatable about it: the second-baseman has to play it straight in that situation.

When it’s a righthanded hitter with a runner at first, it is not the same, because the third-baseman can play off the line to help close the hole for the shortstop,

 

Anyway, Biggio was double-mad now. Not only was he having a miserable day at the plate, he was also being told where to play. But there is one thing about Bidge that is constant: his desire to win.

When we got back to the clubhouse after the game, I relit my stogie. Then I took the other one over to his locker, like a peace pipe. “Here you go, Bidge,” I said. “Light this up and sit back and relax. Tomorrow’s another day.”

A broad smile lit his boyish face. 

“I’m all right now, skip,” he said. “We won the game. Who cares if I can’t swing the bat?”

Bidge lit the cigar, and I returned to my office to meet the press. I can already tell that I will be a lot more quotable when we win.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 9 ● Atlanta, vs Braves

I didn’t get up until 11 a.m. Although it seemed a luxury to sleep that late, it really only amounted to eight hours of shuteye.

My old broadcast partner, Dewayne Staats, was in town to cover our game tonight for ESPN, and I invited him over for a video scouting session. The Perfessor came by as well, and we watched last night’s game tape and had some wine, some cheese, and crackers. Dewayne was announcing Astros games when Vern was pitching for the club, so it was a warm reunion.

Vern left in the eighth inning, but Dewayne stayed for the final out, around 2:30. I did a little reading (The Last Picture Show) and turned out the lights about 3:00.

 

Upon awakening, I went for coffee, a croissant, and a newspaper — a favorite combination.

I was chagrined to see that USA Today used one of my zinger quotes out of context. Having been in the media, I know how tiresome clichés can be, and how much a reporter likes a good quote. I don’t want to be boring, but I will eventually take that tack if these guys continue to slant my meaning by leaving things out.

This time, the question was Are you having fun?

My answer was: “I wouldn’t say fun is the right word. It is challenging, stimulating, and satisfying when you feel like you have done a good job. But fun? No. The money has taken the fun out of the game. There is so much riding on the outcome, so much pressure. It’s hard to really have fun until it’s over and you have won.”

So what do you think they printed? You got it: “Astros manager Larry Dierker said that the money has taken the fun out of baseball.” Actually, I’m trying to put some fun back in it: trying to keep things loose and friendly, encouraging practical jokes and laughter. Tossing out a few one-liners myself, even during a close game.

Still, I don’t think you will find many players who will say that the games are “fun” except for the occasional blowout, when you win big.         

 

The game with the Braves tonight was no “laugher.” It was tough and tight all the way. Darryl Kile and Denny Neagle pitched, and we were all tied at three after nine innings. The Braves won it 4-3 in 11 innings.

I think I did a reasonably good job of managing this game. On several occasions we had runners in scoring position and the batter lined out; that’s just bad luck. There were also a couple of calls that didn’t go our way. I’m sure the Braves would say the same thing if they lost.

It was a good ballgame, but there is one decision that still sticks in my craw:

With two outs and runners on first and second in the bottom of the 11th, I sent Vern out to tell José Lima not to give Chipper Jones anything good to hit. This may not have been good advice, because Lima doesn’t have pinpoint control.

A guy like Maddux or Glavine, or even our Shane Reynolds, would have thrown tantalizing pitches that Jones might swing at; Lima was so far out of the zone he almost threw the ball past our catcher, Tony Eusebio.

That loaded the bases for Fred McGriff. We had a lefty, rookie Tom Martin, ready in the bullpen.

What to do?

I hate to bring a guy in with the bases loaded, because he has no time to find the range with his control. But Lima was off the mark too. Because I asked him to pitch around Jones, I really should have let him pitch to McGriff. But I didn’t have a good feeling about that outcome; McGriff can be a patient hitter. The most important thing was to throw strike one, so Fred would have to swing.

To be honest, I didn’t feel too good about Martin, either, because McGriff hit lefties better than righties last year.

I looked at Vern. “Martin?” I said.

“That’s what we got him for,” Vern said.

Martin came in and walked McGriff on four pitches to force home the winning run.          

But it wasn’t that simple.

Every manager or player will tell you that a player’s reputation has an influence on the umpire. In this case, it was McGriff — a guy with a good eye, who seldom argues with umpires — against Martin, an unproven rookie.

Two of the four pitches were marginal. They could have gone either way. Naturally, they went McGriff’s way. That’s just the way it goes. If the pitches hadn’t been marginal, Larry Vanover would have called them strikes. Because there was some doubt, McGriff got the benefit.

 

There was another interesting rules play in this game.

Kenny Lofton tried to steal third, and he was thrown out on what was called ball four on Javy Lopez. Who would lead off the next inning? I thought the walk to Lopez ended his at-bat, and the Braves would have to lead off with Mark Lemke. Vanover wasn’t sure, so he asked the other umpires, and Lemke did lead off the next inning. 

I am reminded that I still need a clarification of the interference rule.

Maybe something good will come of this journal after all.

TUESDAY, APRIL 8 ● Atlanta, vs Braves

I checked the Atlanta paper this morning, and I learned that the Braves are 3-0 in their new ballpark, Turner Field. New parks tend to bring the best out in a team, for some reason. I recall the Cardinals winning in their first year at Busch; the Reds in their first year at Riverfront; the Orioles at Camden Yards; the Rockies at Coors; the Indians at Jacobs Field; and the Rangers at The Ballpark in Arlington.

Even in the old days, this was true. The Red Sox won the pennant their first year at Fenway, and the Yankees did the same thing at Yankee Stadium.

Luckily for us, no team in our division has a new stadium. If we get our funding proposal through the legislature in Austin, we will have a new park in the year 2000.

I don’t think I can last that long if we don’t win our division. If we win it this year, I will probably last long enough to represent the Astros in uniform at the new ballpark, just as I did in the Astrodome as an 18-year-old pitcher.

I got my TV set up in my room, and I looked at a tape of the Braves from our opening homestand. I was not able to glean anything that would give us a strategic advantage. Dennis Liborio will tape the game tonight, and I will come back to the hotel and review it.

 

I wasn’t able to call a meeting to discuss infield practice, because all the players were not close at hand before batting practice, and there wasn’t enough time after infield. Tomorrow I will have the meeting after BP.

My policy will be to post the times for BP and infield well before the game. I will ask all of the regular players to take infield at least once each series if they are not injured.

 

We hit a lot of balls out of the park in batting practice today. Unfortunately, Tom Glavine wasn’t throwing BP in the game; he was nipping corners, as usual. We managed to scrape out a few hits, but we scored no runs in seven innings off the crafty lefthander.

At this point, the Braves had only two runs off Mike Hampton. When Mike came into the dugout after the sixth, he was scheduled to be the third hitter. I told him he would bat if there were two outs and nobody on base. He was really pitching well, and I didn’t want him out of the game. Still, we had to find a way to get two runs.

We ended up with Brad Ausmus at first when the nine-spot in the order came up, and I pinch-hit with Ray Montgomery. Ray struck out, and we failed to score.

I brought Russ Springer in to pitch the bottom of the seventh. This strategy did not work out too well, as the Braves hit three hanging curveballs and took a 4-0 lead. This outburst supported my general theory that if a pitcher is throwing well, you should leave him in the game whenever it is possible. This time, it was impossible. If we had been tied, I would have let Hampton hit. But we were running out of baseball time, which is measured in outs.           

Mike Bielecki took over from Glavine in the top of the eighth. He is a good pitcher, but I was glad to see him instead of Glavine. So were the hitters.

We got two runs on a double by Gonzo. With one out, James Mouton came to the plate. The Braves had a lefty, Alan Embree, working in the bullpen. I had to decide whether I wanted Bielecki against Mouton and Johnson, or Embree against our lefthanded bats: Abreu, Howard, and Spiers. Embree can be wild, but our lefty hitters are not patient enough to draw many walks.

I didn’t think Bielecki was throwing his best, so I stayed with the righties, and they both made outs.

Springer pitched well in the eighth, and then came Mark Wohlers, throwing 98-99 MPH. He didn’t really need another pitch, but he had one: a forkball that was better than his heater. It came in at 89 MPH and took a nosedive just as it reached the hitting zone.

We lost the game 4-2 and the Braves remain undefeated in their new home.

 

After the game, Ryan Klesko and Kenny Lofton were in the outfield with a group of men in business attire. I suppose they were lighting engineers, because outfielders have been blinded by the lights in the early going.

I understand these lights are qualitatively different than those used in other stadia; they are designed for digital TV. This foreshadows something that I have feared as I have witnessed the proliferation in technological gimmicks in sports coverage. If they are unable to adjust the lights, we will finally have come to the point where television viewers are deemed more important than spectators.

 

There was an unusual rules play in this game. It came when Javy Lopez interfered with Brad Ausmus on a steal attempt with two outs in the inning.

Lopez was ruled out, and the inning was over. I went to talk with umpire Tom Hallion to see who was out: the batter or the runner. Another umpire, Larry Vanover, told me that the batter was out, and the next batter would lead off the next inning.

“What if there had not been two outs?” I asked.

“Then the batter and the runner would be out,” he told me.

This did not seem right to me, so I will need to get a clarification; I think the batter should be out and the runner should return to his original base.

I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.