Category: Rookie Manager’s Journal

MONDAY, AUGUST 25 ● Off-day In Houston

Last year, traveling secretary Barry Waters changed our schedule on off-days, leaving home. We used to depart midafternoon, so that we would have time to eat dinner in the city of our destination. Now, we leave in the late afternoon and have dinner on the airplane. This may be a gastronomic loss, but it is more than offset by the hours we gain at home.

I got a phone call from my old friend and former teammate Bill Greif this morning. He is planning to drive down from Austin for the weekend series with the Dodgers, starting September 11. I invited Bill and his wife Karen to join us at the Astros Wives Gala benefitting the Houston Women’s Center.

When I hung up the phone, Judy asked me where we were going to get the tickets.

“Our table is already full, and we have an overflow of two couples,” she said.

I suggested that we get another table, and she reminded me that a table goes for $1,500. That’s more than pocket change for Judy and me, even with the substantial raise I got when I became the manager.

It didn’t take me long to learn that my expenses would rise considerably in this position.

The biggest expense is paying the visiting clubhouse manager. When I started out as a player in 1965, the normal tip was $10 for three days. By the time I finished up in 1977, it was $10 per day minimum, and around $20 for veteran players. Now I pay $40 to $50, and the big stars pay a lot more. Because our expense allowance is just a little more than $50 a day, almost all of the money I spend on the road comes out of my pocket.

Luckily, I have the clothing deal with Norton Ditto. As a result, I have a lot of nice clothing — and I need it more than ever, with the luncheons, dinners, and galas that are a part of the manager’s job.

When Bill called, I was just heading for the store to pick up a tuxedo for the event. So before I departed, Judy and I talked about the price of success.

One expense that is looming is postseason tickets. You have to buy all the tickets in advance for the playoffs and World Series. That will cost roughly $10,000. We can handle these expenses now, but they are still hard to swallow because we have operated a little closer to the vest for a long time.

The nice thing is, we only have to buy a dress for Judy; the tux is gratis.

And because Norton Ditto’s Dick Hite and his partner Phil Ditto have been so nice, I have asked them to attend the party as my guests.

I ended up talking with several customers at the store. Seems everyone is following our progress, but it is discouraging that so few of them come to the games.

One gentleman works in the Galleria area, not far from the Dome, but he lives 30 miles away. He doesn’t feel like driving home and then coming back for the game — and I don’t blame him. His wife doesn’t feel like driving in and then driving home alone; I don’t blame her.

With almost every game on television, it is no wonder we have so much trouble attracting fans to the game. It will help to have the stadium downtown, but without some sort of mass transit, we will still have some of the same problems.

 

When I got back from Ditto’s, I was pressed for time; I wanted to change out the wheels on my Rollerblades. That’s right: even though my knee is still sore, I am planning to get back on that horse and ride in Chicago.

I also wanted to catch Ryan, and I had to finish packing, shower, and pick up Cubby before heading out.

We stopped by a local Brew Pub to do a talk show on the way to the Dome.  Everyone who called was curious about Derek Bell hitting second. I tried to give them a little lineup theory, and put the choices in statistical perspective. I cited the model in Pete Palmer’s book The Hidden Game of Baseball.

According to Pete’s calculations, the difference in runs over the course of the year is relatively small, no matter which batting order you use: if you put your best lineup out there, you will score 50 more runs in 162 games than you would score with your worst lineup.

In this sense, whether Bell hits second or fourth makes less difference than whether he hits well or poorly. Because he has been hitting well (Player of the Week, hitting .568 last week), I am not going to move him. If the situation changes, I will consider it.

The main thing is that the players believe in the lineup. Hitting Bell second could have sparked a storm of discord in the clubhouse, but because he has been hitting and we have been scoring, it hasn’t created so much as a ripple.

Maybe this will quiet the controversy that was started by Ed Fowler’s column. Probably not.

 

By the time we finally got to the Dome, the off-day seemed more hectic than relaxing. The flight to Atlanta was smooth, and I spent the rest of the night watching a feel-good movie, The Preacher’s Wife, on SpectraVision. When I finally closed the book on The Mask of Apollo it was 2 a.m.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 24 ● Houston, vs Colorado

Today was Family Day at the Dome. I made a major mistake by telling the event organizer, Gene Pemberton, that my family would not participate.

When Judy found out, she was hurt. I told her that it wasn’t Gene’s fault — that I had opted out of the affair. Then she was upset with me.

We got it all straightened out, and she came down on the field with Ryan. He got the “Baseball is Life” T-shirt from Big Ball Sports with DIERKER and 49 on the back, and everyone had a good time.

This was a lesson for me. I thought Ryan was too old to play in the kiddie game, and as it turned out, he didn’t play. But he did get to pitch, take ground balls and fly balls, and get some autographs before the family-game festivities started.  

Judy’s main concern is that she and Ryan be included. This made perfect sense to me, when I saw it through her eyes.

When the kids’ game started, Judy, Ryan, and I stood on the side and watched, getting a few laughs as the little ones hit the ball off the tee and took off running in all directions. Some of the children ran their own routes, looping and spinning like little dervishes.

One child, Cavan Biggio, hit the ball and immediately, and for no apparent reason, started bawling. He didn’t hit it very well, so perhaps it is simply an example of “like father, like son.”

 

When I got back to my office, Gerry was there. He wanted to review all of our options regarding the setting of the playoff roster. It seems he is still in favor of putting Tony Eusebio on the disabled list and bringing up Richard Hidalgo. This makes sense, if we get Dave Clark. If not, I might prefer the lefthanded bat of Bobby Abreu. We won’t know about the trade until Wednesday, so I have a few days to mull it over.

The Rockies were my immediate concern. They have as powerful a combination of right-handed hitters as any team in our league. I have a lot of confidence in Mike Hampton now, but this figured to be a difficult assignment.

 

At first, it looked like we might blow them out; their starter, Jamie Wright, was extremely wild. We threatened in almost every inning, but we came away with only three runs.

The third run scored because Hampton beat out a sacrifice bunt and later came home on a double-play grounder. Curt Leskanic came out of their bullpen, and he was really sharp, so Hampton had to make the three runs stand for the last five innings.

He was able to do this, in part by making great pitches and in part by making two great fielding plays. He also got a lift from Tim Bogar, who made two exceptional double plays.  

Bogey was playing with a heavy heart, because his mother-in-law passed away last night. After the game, he was heading to Illinois for the funeral. His performance in the wake of personal loss was inspiring.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 23 ● Houston, vs Colorado

Bill Ceverha, the producer of the CBS Radio Game of the Week, was waiting in my office when I arrived at ten o’clock. He was looking at his watch when I came in, as if I was his teenage son returning after curfew.

He made it a point to tell me that he had driven in from Dallas this morning. A quick calculation told me that he had to leave no later than 4:30. As far as I was concerned, that was his problem, not mine.  

I understand the lineup anxiety that grips many broadcasters; I was one of them for 17 years. They really can’t put the finishing touches on their game preparation until they get the lineup. I happen to know, however, that they can do everything they have to do in an hour-and-a-half; I have to post the lineup for the players earlier than that.

But on a quick turnaround, it’s hard to do it much earlier. The players didn’t have to report until 10:30, and I had to wait to see if Chuckie’s arthritic knee and Derek’s scraped ring finger would keep them out of the action.

The problem with Fox and CBS is that they only do one game a week, and they want everything to run smoothly. They have time to overprepare, and they usually do — recording all kinds of sound bites that they seldom use. Most managers don’t realize this, but I do.

I don’t feel obliged to jump through hoops for them, but I can put myself in their place and know that I would like to have the lineup early and get my interview out of the way.

I hope they think I am being helpful, but I don’t like being made to feel like I’m obstructing their show. When I was broadcasting, I never thought it was my show.

It certainly didn’t turn out to be my show today.

 

In the top of the ninth, Hudie got wild and walked the first two batters. Just what I wanted to see. Andres Galarraga, the league’s RBI leader, came up and I knew he wasn’t up there to bunt.

I asked Cubby if he wanted to put on the wheel play. He looked at me as if I were crazy, until he realized that I was kidding.

Bill usually gets a grin out of it when I suggest something that is ludicrous; Cubby and Vern aren’t that way. They are all business. I think Cubby will eventually catch on to my odd sense of humor, but I don’t think Vern ever will.

We were all relieved when Galarraga hit Hudek’s first pitch to third, and we turned the double play.

I had Wagner warming up in the bullpen, hoping Don Baylor wouldn’t pinch-hit with Larry Walker. When he did just that, I had a decision to make.

Walker is having a signature season, and he could win the Triple Crown (leading the league in home runs, runs batted in, and batting average). But he has not been swinging that well lately.

My first thought was that Hudek should pitch around him (throw pitches just out of the strike zone, hoping to get him to chase a bad ball) with a right-handed hitter, Vinny Castilla, on deck.

When I gave Brad the pitch-around sign, he pointed at third, which told me he was afraid that Hudie would pitch so far around him that he might throw the ball to the backstop and allow them to take the lead without earning it with a hit.

I had enough time to ponder that and think again about Wagner. Because of a double-switch, we had our best on-base hitter, Bill Spiers, up first in the ninth. Bill would be followed by Biggio, Bell, and Bagwell. I felt pretty good about our chances to score, and I thought Billy could get Walker out.

I asked Vern, and he said, “That’s what you got him ready for.” He was right about that. But I’m sure he remembered the long home run Castilla hit off Wagner earlier this year. If Wags didn’t get Walker, he would have to face the rematch with two men on base.

I decided to go against my first instinct, and bring Billy into the game, hoping for a confidence-building outing.

It looked great at first, and Walker took two feeble swings and got down 0-2. I was a little concerned about Billy, because he kept stretching his legs. He threw a pitch way high, and Brad barely caught it. Then there was a foul ball. A few more fouls and three balls later, Walker walked.

Castillo got down 0-2 as well. Then he blasted one deep into the mezzanine seats. We were down 6-3.

“Who do you want to pitch the tenth if we tie it?” Vern asked, after Billy got the last out.

“Billy,” I said, hoping that the hitters I thought could get us one run could somehow get three. “I want Billy to finish.”

“He can’t,” Vern said. “He pulled a groin muscle.”

“Great,” I said. “Let’s get Lima ready. We don’t need Wagner. We’ll just win this thing with Lima. We don’t need Berry. Russ Johnson can hit home runs, can’t he?”

I was feeling sorry for myself, but at least I was trying to make a joke of it. I won’t stay down long, but this was not one of my better days.

 

I was curt, but polite during the post mortem. When one cameraman overstayed his welcome to ask, “What about Sean Berry? I saw him limp out of here a minute ago. Is he worse than you thought?”

“No,” I said. “It’s the same as I thought. It was a pulled calf muscle last night, and it’s a pulled calf muscle today. It will be a pulled calf muscle tomorrow, and he will limp. That’s what you do when you have a pulled calf muscle. And that’s why we put him on the disabled list.”

This answer had the desired effect of discouraging further questions.

I went into the training room, where Dr. Bryan and Dave Labossiere were explaining their diagnoses on Billy. It was better than I thought: a hip-flexor injury. Could be better in a few days. I hope so.

If Billy didn’t throw 98 MPH; if he weren’t fearless; if he hadn’t already saved 19 games; or if we had Mark Wohlers or Robb Nen, I wouldn’t be so anxious to get him back out there. But I still believe he can deliver the goods for us, and I want him back in the saddle as soon as possible.

 

When I got home, I flopped on the couch. This one really hurt. It helped when Ryan came home and wanted to work on his pitching and fielding. An hour later, I was better.

We had some dinner and then watched a Disney comedy about a boy who lost his dad. Two city slickers, his sister and one of his old friends, were named in the will to take care of him. When they went to the little town for the funeral, everyone was friendly, but very wacky.

At first, they were hard-hearted and wanted to leave immediately, without the boy. But then, after a few tickles and a tender moment or two, they became wacky and friendly like everyone else.

It was pure schmaltz, and I ate it up. I laughed and got teary. I thought about my Dad and my son.  

And the pennant race skulked away, like a thief in the night.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 21 ● Houston, vs Colorado

Whew! What a day. It started with a rush, as I was going through the mail at my desk.

One minute Babe, our six-month-old Lab puppy, was lying by my feet; the next, she was ripping the upholstery off my favorite chair. I exploded, and she ran out into the yard.

I started chasing her, which is like Rush Limbaugh chasing Michael Jordan. Luckily, she was contrite, and she cowered down.

That got my heart going, and I proceeded with the desk-work until I got a call from Gerry, requesting a meeting at 1:30. I knew what it was about.

 

Ed Fowler wrote a column in today’s paper, suggesting Derek Bell was acting like a baby, demanding to hit second in front of Bagwell instead of hitting fourth or fifth, where he could add some power to the attack. I was quoted, and my comments were a bit abrasive. Naturally, not all of my comments were printed; just the ones that served Ed’s purpose.

I don’t blame Fowler, really. It was more his opinion than mine, and I think that came through. But Gerry was still worried that Derek would react badly and quit on us.

All season long, we have been tiptoeing around him, hoping he wouldn’t quit. What I have seen is quite the opposite. Since he has been hitting second, he has been happy-go-lucky and hell-bent-for-leather on the field.

I asked Rob Matwick to give me the runs we have scored since Derek has been hitting second. The results were 10, 8, 6, 8, 3, 7, 10, 3, and 1. That isn’t so bad. In fact, it’s quite good, when you take out the two threes and the one — in other words, take out Schilling, Smoltz, and Glavine.

I was prepared to meet Derek and the press on this issue, but no controversy arose. Derek hadn’t seen the column, but Mac and I wanted to talk to him about moving down in the lineup anyway. I wasn’t going to do it today, no matter what, because it would look like Ed Fowler was running the team.

 

The discussion with Bell was nothing compared to the interview by Steve Rushin of Sports Illustrated. Steve is a tall, gangly, likeable guy; respectful. He pursued a line of questioning that started with my childhood experiences and proceeded along through the 43 years of my baseball journey.

I had the impression he was going to write a magazine story, but with the information he gathered (both sides of a 60-minute cassette) he could write a picaresque novella. As he finished up and shook my hand, I asked how long the SI jinx might last. He said it would play out in about a week, and he promised to do a story on the Pirates.   

Then came Milo Hamilton, recorder in hand. Then came Jeff Kingery, the Rockies broadcaster, recorder in hand. Then came David Dalati from KTRH, recorder in hand. Then came Gerry and Drayton with encouraging words.

Batting practice had already started, and I still hadn’t looked at the scouting reports and the matchup information. By the time I got my lineup ready, batting practice was over. I had been in the building for six hours and had not left my office.

 

The game went well. Bagwell hit his 34th homer in the first inning, and we went on to win 10-4 with Bell hitting second.

Chris Holt got his first win in two months. With the monkey off his back, he should be a better pitcher as we head for the stretch.

I am well-pleased with my pitching now. The starters and relievers have been stingy lately. If we keep it up, it will be hard for the Pirates and Cardinals to catch us.

I’m not sure we can keep it up for six weeks, though. It could get pretty hairy in the end.

This was a perfect win, however, as the Birds and the Bucs lost. They won and we lost, then we won and they lost. Two more days off the schedule, and no headway for the competition.  

If we go 17-18, the Pirates will have to go 21-14 to tie us — and the Cardinals will have to go 26-10.

The trick is to win 17 or more games.  

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 20 ● Houston, vs Atlanta

No one wants to talk about the playoffs, for fear they will jinx the team. But at some point, you have to talk about it — and today was the day.  

The playoff roster must be set by August 31. If a player is not on the team or on the disabled list on that date, he is ineligible for the best-of-five first series of postseason games.

The first thing most teams do is add a catcher and subtract a pitcher. In a five-game series, with a day off in the middle, you simply don’t need eleven pitchers. Most of the time, your fifth starter moves to the bullpen to help out.

We pretty much concluded that we would take that direction too, though I am still willing to go with two catchers and take my chances that Brad will not get hurt. I conceded this was a risky proposition with Tony’s knee problem, and I deferred to those who did not want to take that risk.

The only reason I wanted to take the risk was to get some help for the bench.

With Derek hitting second, we need some power in the fourth, fifth, and sixth spots in the order — and we just don’t have any.  We have several candidates for promotion from the minor leagues: Richard Hidalgo and Bobby Abreu are the two outfielders; J. R. Phillips and Daryl Ward are the two first-basemen.

Most of the coaches seemed anxious to get some help from below. I think it is only natural to underrate the players on your own team and to prefer players coming in from the land of greener grass.

That being said, every coach in the room said that he would prefer young Ward to either Phillips or Thomas Howard as a left-handed pinch-hitter.

Ward played AA ball for most of the season. He is, by any reckoning, not ready for the Big Show. Gerry is not inclined to rush players to the majors, but Bill and I don’t mind. We feel that if the player fails, he can still learn something; take it back to the minors and return later.

We have also seen guys who never had to go back. They simply made the adjustment to the competition and continued to succeed.

One problem is that Howard is an outfielder and Ward is a first-baseman. If we were going to replace Tank, it would probably be with Richard — but he hits righthanded.

We talked around in circles for the better part of 90 minutes before we decided to continue thinking about it and to meet again on Saturday.

 

Cubby and I reviewed some tape of Biggio trying to turn the double play in last night’s game. We looked at one play where he was unable to get off a throw, and another where his relay was late.

We got a stopwatch and timed the plays. Turned out he had more time on the throw he didn’t make than on the one he did.

“I thought he could have made that play on Colbrunn when it happened,” Cubby said. “But he can’t make it so close to the bag. He has to cheat to get it off in time.”

Cubby demonstrated what he was talking about — and as he did, I noticed something that could be a problem.

“When you come way across like that, you have to throw sidearm,” I said. “Bidge doesn’t throw sidearm.”

“I know,” Cubby said. “That’s the same thing Bogey told me when I asked him about it. I’m not sure Bidge can make the play that way, but I think I’m going to try to talk to him about it.

“Not in here,” he said. “It’s coming up on game time, and I don’t want to confront him with tape and a stopwatch. But maybe the next few days on the field. We can always show him the tape, if he wants to see it.”

I have found that these little meetings are generally more valuable than the full-squad affairs.  In fact, I have arranged to have Wagner meet with Nolan Ryan on Friday to talk about the problems and the progress of a young fireballer.

This was accomplished with the help of our strength coach, Gene Coleman. Vern and I decided not to tell Billy until Thursday night, so as not to distract him. So I was perplexed when Biggio approached me about it just before the game tonight.

“Is Nolan going to just meet with Billy or everyone?” he asked.

“It’s just for Billy,” I said, masking my surprise. “But I’m sure the other guys will want to meet him, if he has time.”

“What Billy wants to do is talk to Nolie one-on-one,” Bidge said. “He was afraid everyone would be in there with him.”

I assumed “everyone” meant Vern and me, and I was a little ticked by the suggestion — but I tried not to show it.

“He can meet with him one-on-one if he wants to,” I said. “I’ve already talked to Nolan about him, and I have a pretty good idea as to what he is going to say anyway.

“The question is whether Billy should keep throwing a curve or go to a slider.”  

Biggio seemed curious about this, so I explained to him how the ball comes out of Billy’s hand: the low release point; the necessity that he throw the curve up for it to come down in the strike zone; the suspicion that this effect gives the hitters a “read” on his breaking ball that they would not get with a slider.            

Bidge seemed satisfied. He bounded down the tunnel to the dugout as I shook my head in disbelief.

How in the world did Biggio find out that Nolan was coming to see Billy? I asked myself. I told Vern about it, and he did a little snooping and learned that Coleman was the leak. Because I didn’t tell Gene not to tell him, I could only blame myself. It’s not a big deal, but it just shows how careful you have to be in this business.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Nolan talked to him about moving hitters back off the plate, as well. If you throw 98 MPH and you are a little wild, it can be effective to be a little wild inside from time to time.

           

The game went the way I expected it would. It could have gone either way, but I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be much scoring. With two control pitchers — Shane and Tommy Glavine — and a wide-strike-zone umpire, Bob Davidson, I figured it would be hell on hitters — and it was.

The Braves scored their first run when a splitter bounced erratically away from Brad. It was a strikeout, and it would have been the third out; instead, Mark Lemke scooted home while Michael Tucker raced to first.

Their second run came on a solo homer by Javy Lopez.

The final Braves tally came when Glavine dropped a perfect squeeze bunt with two strikes in the count and the bases loaded. It was a great clutch effort by one of the best pitchers in the game.

We scored off Chad Fox in the eighth, when Biggio walked and immediately stole second base. Derek drove him in with a single. We gave Derek the green light, but he chose not to go.

On the fourth pitch, Bagwell hit a screamer down the third-base line. Chipper Jones made a nifty pickup and turned it into a double play. If Derek had stolen second, Jones wouldn’t have been able to play so deep, and he might not have made the catch.

Of course, Derek might have been thrown out trying to steal second base, but it was worth a try because Fox was slow to the plate and Lopez has a sore arm.

Mark Wohlers came on in the ninth, and Spiers greeted him with a double. But that was all she wrote. The next three hitters went down meekly, which is nothing to be ashamed of with Wohlers on the mound.

 

The press contingent wanted to address the weakness of the end of our lineup. This has been a concern to me too, but until recently, we have been scoring plenty of runs. I knew that this would play out eventually.

Gonzo is hitting cleanup, with seven home runs on the year. None of the next five hitters has more than three. This is bound to catch up with you sooner or later.

The question is whether we can convince Derek to move down to fourth and be happy. I asked Tom McCraw to talk to him about it tomorrow.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 19 ● Houston, vs Atlanta

I awoke feeling pretty much myself for the first time since Friday. Having to catch up on all this writing seemed an impossible chore over the weekend; it was no trouble at all today. 

The only obstacle between me and sheer joy is the Braves.

The Braves have not been hitting well lately, and Mike Hampton has been superb. Even though they were sending John Smoltz to the mound, I felt optimistic.

Reality set in when I made out my lineup card. I looked for players who had hit Smoltz well; there were few. I looked for possible combinations beyond Biggio, Bell, and Bagwell, and found few. I ended up with González hitting cleanup, followed by Gutierrez, Carr, Ausmus, Bogar, and Hampton.

Smoltz throws a riding fastball, and he is sometimes susceptible to the home run. Our top three hitters had 59 homers; our next five had 19.

I don’t know why I haven’t been disturbed by this fact until this homestand. Maybe it is because we haven’t been playing the Braves and the Marlins.

On paper, this is a mismatch. But we don’t play the game on paper — and it turned out to be a beauty.

 

Hampton’s nemesis, Jeff Blauser, hit a two-run homer in the first. Smoltz made our hitters look like Little Leaguers.

Three singles and an infield grounder put them up 4-0 in the sixth. Bell homered in the bottom of the inning to make it 4-1. We scored another run in the seventh on Carr’s hit, a stolen base, and an infield grounder by Spiers.

In the eighth, Biggio and Bell singled, and Bagwell followed with a double down the third-base line. Bell was churning all-out, but the Braves played the carom well and Cubby had to hold Derek at third. We were only down 4-3, and we had the winning run on second with no outs.

Bobby Cox played it the way I would have: he tried to get the last ounce of effort out of Smoltz so he wouldn’t have to use his  relievers. Smoltz came through by striking out Gonzo, then he got lucky when Ricky Gutierrez hit a wicked liner to Lemke that resulted in a double play.

Things looked bleak in the ninth when Mark Wohlers came on throwing cheese. I instructed our hitters to steal if they got on.

“We aren’t likely to get a lot of hits,” I said. “And I don’t want to waste an out on a bunt.”

Wohlers’ first pitch was clocked at 101 MPH. Carr hung in there and got a good swing, but flied out to deep left-center. Ausmus got down in the count, but hung in there and delivered a chopping single up the middle. He immediately stole second.

Spiers grounded to second, and Ausmus moved to third. Eusebio walked, and Mouton pinch-ran and stole second. Again, we had the tying and winning runs in scoring position.

That’s how it ended. Wohlers struck out Biggio with a darting slider.

Once again, I was amazed by my players. They may not be powerful, but they are tough.

If we don’t win this thing, it won’t be because we didn’t give a good effort.

           

One thing that bothered me about this game was two ground balls that got through the hole on the left side of the infield. I’ve mentioned before that I like to play the infield straight-up on the pull side (the left-field side of the diamond for a right-handed hitter) in a double-play situation, but our infielders keep edging back toward the bag, anticipating the double play.

In a way, I hate to move them. I seldom moved players when I was pitching, because I was never sure where the guy would hit the ball. Just as sure as I move him, I thought, the guy will hit it right where they were.

I talked to Cubby about this after the game, and he agreed. He is going to talk with our middle infielders about not cheating so much on the pull side. He also mentioned another thing.

“I thought we still had a chance for a double play on the ball that Lopez hit to Ricky,” he said. “Biggio never cheats across the bag. Sometimes he catches the ball on his left foot. If he catches it on his right and cheats across the bag, we have a chance.

“With first-and-third and one out, I think you have to cheat.”

I suggested that we look at the video tomorrow, and that if it clearly showed what he was talking about, we would meet with Bidge and Cubby could show him what he was telling me.

 

Chronicle columnist Fran Blinebury covered the game tonight. Baseball is not his favorite sport, and we don’t see a lot of him during the year. He was captivated by the “playoff” atmosphere in the Dome, and that was the subject of his column. With a goodly number of Braves fans among the 32,000 in attendance, the place was really rocking.

I had a feeling that Fran enjoyed the game, which pleased me. A lot of people — even good sports fans — don’t give baseball a chance, because they feel it is too slow.

Well, it is too slow, too often. But when it is played well, it is a beautiful sport.

MONDAY, AUGUST 17 ● Off-day In Houston

Another day off. Another golf tournament. This one was for young cancer patients, called the Sunshine Kids.

These kids have practically been adopted by Craig Biggio. He spends a lot of one-on-one time with them; throws parties for them; has the tournament to raise money for them.

I will have to kid him about getting back at me for the lecture I gave him earlier this year by putting me in a foursome of ladies — not bathing beauties, just middle-aged ladies. Actually it was not his choice, but I’ll get on him anyway.

We had a pretty good time, finishing 12-under. They couldn’t hit the ball very far, but they were good around the greens, and they played fast. What I expected to be an ordeal was a pleasure.

It just goes to show me that I shouldn’t be prejudiced. As if I didn’t know.

 

I stopped at Norton Ditto’s on the way home to get fitted for a tux for the Wives’ Gala. The tux was beautiful, and it did not need much alteration. They brought some patent-leather shoes for the fitting; I guess they didn’t think my Docksiders were appropriate.

“What about the shoes?” I asked Dick.

“That’s right,” he said. “Let’s go look at some.”

I have learned not to express my opinions on clothing. With the exception of my remarkable launching of the Aloha shirt fad, I am a fashion illiterate.

Dick recommended a pair of plain-looking oxfords. They almost looked like work shoes.

“If you notice,” Dick said, “the leather has not been glazed.” He held up another pair of shoes.

“See the difference?” he continued, lifting up the flap that covers the laces. “This is the way the leather looks before it is glazed. See the imperfections?” I really couldn’t see them, but I nodded yes.

“These Alden shoes are made only from the finest leather from the shoulders of the calf. The side leather gets nicked by rubbing against fences and trees. They cover it up with the glazing.

“Now look at the leather on these Aldens. It doesn’t have a mark, and that’s why they don’t glaze them. They will take a good shine, and they are perfect for formal wear, black-tie, or with a suit. You don’t need the patent look unless it’s a white-tie affair.”

“We’ll get some of those when Clinton has us to the White House after we win the World Series,” I quipped.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 17 ● Houston, vs Philadelphia

Having retired early, I was up at 8:00, with time to read the paper before heading to the Dome.

That was my first mistake.

The sports page was yellow (as in “yellow journalism”) in the finest Hearst tradition. Truex ripped me up one side and down the other.

Again, he called for Spiers to be used earlier in the game — even though Spiers was injured and only available in the event of an emergency.  

He criticized me for leaving Kile in to hit for himself with a one-run lead, suggesting that I should have pitched Wagner two innings.  

“Dierker should focus on winning the division instead of rewriting the book on managing,” he wrote.

Because I “have the ink” in this case, I will suggest that he get out to the ballpark in time to find out who can play and who cannot. I will also suggest that he read the book on managing before he accuses me of rewriting it.

And finally, I will suggest that the Chronicle be sold next to the National Enquirer at the grocery store, so that it will not be confused with a newspaper.

Alan will never know this is how I feel, because he still “has the ink.” I am hoping he will get the job he wants soon — writing the food-and-wine column — so that the baseball fans in Houston will get coverage from a real baseball writer who comes out to the game early and does his job.

Alan’s Sunday notes column is a joke around the league. It consists of vignettes he has lifted from other publications; there is no original thinking or reporting to be found.

I knew these thoughts were petty and vindictive, but that is exactly how I felt.

At least my head was clearing up.

 

Once again, I penciled Biggio and Bagwell into the lineup. This time, Mac gave me a quizzical look and said, “these guys are going to have to get some rest if they’re going to be worth a shit in September.”

I went back and pondered the alternatives. Without Spiers, the pickings were thin. I left my stalwarts in to fight yet another battle.

I walked by Biggio on my way to Chapel.

“Hey, skip,” he said, with a broad smile, “I’m glad to know someone on this team is as stupid as I am.” He was referring to the Truex hatchet job in the paper, poking fun at himself and at me.

“Dumb and dumber,” I replied. “If we hang around long enough, we may do something right by mistake.”

It was so refreshing to see him bouncing around, lightfooted and lighthearted, loose and natural. I felt a lot better about having him in the lineup. 

 

Craig Reynolds was our Chapel speaker today. Craig was perhaps the best shortstop we have had in Houston. He is a likeable guy, a true heart.

It seems to me that the most admirable Christians I have met are those who came to the Lord as children and grew up in the faith. My old teammate Tom Griffin was like that. He married his high-school sweetheart, just like Craig.  Both guys wear their faith like a robe: warm and natural. The bright lights and glitter of fame never turned their heads.

They never came on strong with the sort of clumsy proselytizing that you get from a born-again Christian. They never lost their sense of humor.

Craig spoke about a man who built his house on rock, and another who built on sand. He is such a rock-solid example of the wisdom of this parable that his soft-spoken message had the power of a Bagwell bomb.

 

Bagwell hasn’t been bombing lately, however. His average has slipped into the .285 range. I don’t think he needs rest; he just needs a few hits. It is hard to rest him anyway; even when he is in a slump, he continues to draw walks and steal bases. He keeps scoring runs and making good defensive plays.

 

Before the game, Phillies president Dave Montgomery came down to say Aloha. It was hello and goodbye, good health and good luck.

Dave is a terrific guy. I hope the owners listen to him when it comes to realignment. I know he is happy with the way the Phils are playing; it gives their fans something to look forward to. In my opinion they are still a few years away from winning a championship. But you never know. Just ask the Pirates.

 

We did manage to keep the Bucs at bay, with a win today. But it wasn’t easy.

Ramon Garcia really threw the ball well, but the Phils chased him anyway with eight hits and four runs in 5-2/3 innings.

We got a good break in this game when Phillies starter Garrett Stephenson had to leave with an arm injury. That gave us a chance to face their long relievers, and we quickly took the lead.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 16 ● Houston, vs Philadelphia

I felt pretty good about our chances to get rolling again, with Darryl Kile on the mound and Tony Eusebio sound-enough to do the catching. Last time out, Kile beat the Mets, but he struggled doing it with Brad behind the plate.

Kile and Eusebio shut them down for the first five innings, while we were scoring three runs.

 

In the sixth, Kile walked Mickey Morandini on four pitches. Greg Jefferies hit a ground ball to Biggio, and it looked like a double play. When Biggio’s feed was wide, Bogar stretched to stay on the bag, and he didn’t even try to throw to first. If he had moved through the play smoothly, he probably would have gotten the call. But in stretching, he made it appear that he had been pulled off.

Dana DeMuth called Morandini safe, and Bogey was really mad. He argued briefly, and the guys in the dugout wanted me to go out. Everyone was sure that DeMuth had blown the call. I wasn’t so sure — and to be honest, I felt like shit: stuffed-up and achy.

I thought about going out to argue, but I decided to stay put; I knew DeMuth wouldn’t reverse his call, and I thought Kile could pitch out of it. I rationalized my lack of action with the thought that I didn’t want to break Kile’s rhythm.

I wasn’t too interested in arguing with DeMuth, either. His crew had worked our series in Philly and New York. I felt I had just about come to the end of my rope arguing with them. I didn’t want to get kicked out in this situation.

Kile struck out Scott Rolen, but Rico Brogna singled in a run to make it 3-1.

The Phillies touched Kile for three hits and another run in the seventh. Darryl was pitching a tough game, but the fact that he only had three strikeouts told me that he was without his best stuff.

When he came up in the bottom of the inning, there were men on second and third and only one out. A rookie pitcher, Wayne Gomes, was on the hill. I thought D.K. could put the ball in play, so I let him hit. With Biggio on deck, we had an excellent chance to lengthen our lead.

Well, Gomes reached back and threw some of the best breaking balls we have seen all year; he struck out Kile and retired Biggio. We came away emptyhanded, still clinging to a one-run lead.

At least I had Kile on the mound. The tradeout in letting him hit was that he could probably get the game to Wagner in the ninth.

I brought Spiers in to play third base, to make it a bit easier.  Rolen singled for openers, but then Kile got what looked like a double-play grounder off the bat of Rico Brogna.

As Rolen was advancing toward second, Biggio ran at him with the ball. Rolen retreated, Biggio threw to first, and Bagwell fired to second. But Rolen moves well for a big man, and he beat the tag play. Looking back, I’m sure Bidge would have flipped to Bogey for the force, to make sure that they wouldn’t have a man in scoring position if we missed the double play.

The Phils brought Kevin Jordan out to pinch-hit for Gomes. Jordan had homered off Wagner in Philly, but I decided to go with Billy again. Kile had thrown 123 pitches, and he looked weary.

During batting practice, Jordan was hardly getting around on the ball. I didn’t think he had a prayer, if Billy could throw strikes.

I was wrong. Jordan singled, and we were tied.

In the ninth, Morandini walked and Greg Jefferies homered. Bottalico shut us down, and the Phillies extended their winning streak to six games.

 

I was besieged again after the game:

Why didn’t I pinch-hit for Kile? Why did I bring in the lefthanded Wagner to face the righthanded Jordan? Why? Why? Why?

I admitted to being a little tentative — even somewhat indecisive. When your relief pitchers are struggling, it can really affect your thinking.

I said that I thought the players were a little tentative too.

“It’s easier to chase than to be chased,” I said. “We need to loosen up and play aggressive baseball, but instead, it looks like we’re just trying to hold our ground. I might say something to the guys about it tomorrow.”

Little did I know that one reporter, lurking in the background, would say something to them today.

 

Ryan was playing in a tournament as we played the Phillies. His second game was at 5:30, so I was able to go see him play.

When I got to my car, an hour and fifteen minutes after the game was over, approximately 100 fans were still waiting for autographs. I was the last one out, and Bogey had just finished signing.

I sure didn’t feel like running the autograph gauntlet, but I had time to kill and I couldn’t imagine too many guys stopping to sign after this tough loss.

I decided to do my duty. It was almost like self-inflicted punishment for not managing better and not getting out there to argue with DeMuth on Bogey’s behalf.

The second or third kid I signed for wanted me to autograph his program, his hat, and his glove. I signed them, but then I announced, “If you will please limit yourselves to one autograph per person, I will sign for everybody.  Otherwise, I may have to leave, and someone will get left out.”

This didn’t work at all. I don’t know why I even bothered.

If folks are willing to wait more than an hour, with 95-degree heat bearing down and more heat rising up from the concrete, they have to be crazy or consumed with the autograph fever.

I would sign for a kid, then move down the line. Then I would see the same kid farther down, handing me another item. If there were a hundred folks, I signed two hundred times: T-shirts, gloves, balls, programs, ticket stubs — everything.

Some people wait there without a pen and hand you something to sign, hoping someone will loan them a pen. Some folks don’t take the caps off their pens, which slows things down. Some thrust laundry markers at you, and your hands and wrists are usually marked black-and-blue by the time you finish.

I don’t really like signing, partly because I don’t like standing out there in the sun, and partly because the whole concept of autographs is distasteful to me.

I get the feeling that the autographs are more important to some of these kids than the game. They have books to tell them what everything is worth, and they are trying to add to the net worth of their collections.  

Oftentimes, you will see the same people out there day after day, wanting more and more. It seems sick to me, but I try not to think about it too much. 

 

Ryan’s team lost to the Galveston All-Stars. They had a couple of kids who had to be six feet tall and 170 pounds. This is the 13-year-old division, and Ryan is still 12. He is about 5’3” and weighs about 120 pounds; there is no way he can get that big in a year.

One of the Galveston kids hit a single, a double, and a home run. The double hit the wall in right-center; the homer cleared the left-field fence on a line. It traveled about 300 feet.

I don’t know if these kids have fake IDs, or if Ryan is kidding himself about being able to play high-school ball. I sure don’t remember any kids that size when I was in Pony League.

Ryan got a base hit and made a nice running catch in the outfield. It was great to finally see him play. He rode home with me, and we had a good visit.

 

Still feeling listless and blue, and still having trouble breathing, I went wineless again tonight, watching the Braves play the Cardinals on TV with Ryan. The Braves won, and the Redbirds are still 9-1/2 games back.