RMJ 39 March 25

TUESDAY, MARCH 25 ● Baseball City, vs Kansas City

Night game. Several pitchers, including Donne Wall, worked during the afternoon in a minor-league game.

Cubby and I played golf in the morning with a couple of guys from my neighborhood in Houston, then rushed to the ballpark so that I could see Wall and Cubby could hit some extra ground balls to Listach.

We talked to Pat about taking extra grounders several days ago, but he didn’t show up in time to take them today.

Wall pitched better, but not well.

At least the golf was good. The Eagle Pines course at Disney is majestic. I went 48-38 for an 86. Not bad, considering I haven’t been playing or practicing. On the back nine I used Cubby’s Great Big Bertha driver, and I hit the ball straight and far. I made two birdies, and just missed another. I exchanged cigars with my Houston friends, and we had a big time, living like kings.

           

The game at Baseball City wasn’t so much fun. Sid Fernandez was wild as a March hare. He walked seven guys and gave up a three-run homer to Jay Bell. Our relief pitchers didn’t do much better, and we lost 9-3.

One thing that has been a distraction, and is becoming a nuisance, is the absence of players on the bench. Seems like every time I want to put a guy in the game or use him as a pinch-hitter, I can’t find him; he’s either hanging out in the bullpen or up in the clubhouse.

Tonight, I couldn’t find Ray Montgomery — a rookie who is going to make the team, but doesn’t know it — and Luis Rivera, a veteran who is in the same boat. You would think that these two guys, above all others, would be ready for action. But they were not.

While I was searching for Montgomery, I missed a chance to pinch-hit with Thomas Howard. When I got back to my post at the front of the dugout, Pat Listach had already taken strike one. The bases were loaded, and we were down by four runs.

The frustrating thing about this is that it was a perfect spot for Howard, because I had talked to him about pitch-hitting before the game. The discussion started as a state-of-the-team address, in which I tried to tactfully tell him that Bobby Abreu was going to start in right field, with Derek Bell in center and Luis Gonzalez in left.

“You will get enough starts to stay sharp,” I said. “I’m not afraid to use you in left, right, or center. But a lot of times, I will need you to come off the bench with a pinch hit.”

He seemed to understand the situation. We certainly don’t want to keep a young player like Abreu on the bench as a pinch-hitter.

Thomas has been a fourth outfielder most of his career, and he has been a good one. But I think he was hoping to get a starting job here. His chance of doing that was diminished by his arm injury.

While Thomas was out, Abreu hit like crazy, throwing well and running like a stallion. When Thomas came back, he boxed a few balls in the outfield and couldn’t throw real well. He also came to camp a little heavy, and he is not running like he used to.

All these things made the Abreu decision easy, but I still had to tell Thomas in a way that would make him feel important.

“Look,” I said, “I look at your record and I see that every year you get between 250 and 400 at-bats. That tells me that all of your managers have seen you as more than a pinch-hitter. I know you are not happy with your outfield play so far, but that does not concern me. What I want to know is, where you feel most comfortable in the order?”

He told me that he mostly hit leadoff last year, but that he liked hitting fifth or sixth too.

“Your stats suggest that you would be a better RBI man than a get-on-and-score guy,” I said. You hit for high average with moderate power, but don’t walk much. If you are on the bench, I consider you my top lefthanded RBI guy. But how about when you are in the lineup? Have you ever hit second?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I can hit second. I can bunt. I can pull the ball through the hole. I haven’t hit second a lot, but I can do it.”

We discussed his role as a pinch-hitter. I told him that I would try to save him for a meaningful situation — probably late in the game. His expression told me that he embraced that role.

“I’ll probably use Billy (Spiers) if it’s a leadoff at-bat, because I think you have a little more pop in terms of RBI. The main thing is that I need you to be ready, because I may not make up my mind until the last minute. I’m new at this, but you’re a veteran. If you think I might need you, get yourself loose.”

Well, when Listach took a strike, I looked down the bench and there was Howard with his helmet on and a bat in this hand. He was ready, but it was too late. I didn’t want to embarrass Listach by taking him out in the middle of his at-bat, and I didn’t want to bring Howard in with a strike in the count.

It was easier to tell James Mouton that he was going to be a spot-starter, but primarily a bench player. He missed most of spring training with a hand injury.

He pretty much knows his role, and it is sad in a way. He’s such a hard worker, and he wants to regain the everyday status that he had as a rookie. He even played winter ball to prove that he could do it, but he continued to have trouble with righthanded pitchers, then broke his hand. Just as his hand got better, he pulled a hamstring.

“The only thing that concerns me,” I said, “is that since you have been back, I haven’t really seen you run hard. Is your hammy still bothering you?”

“No,” he said. “But I have been protecting it. I think I’m about ready to let it out.” During the game, he did just that. He topped a breaking ball from a righthanded pitcher and almost beat it out, going down the line full-bore for the first time.

Well, at least I know James is back. He still has a problem with the righthanded breaking ball, but he’s running like the wind again.

 

After the game, I was walking out to the parking lot with Cubby and an old beat-writer-turned-radio-sports-personality, Kenny Hand. Kenny asked me what I said to the pitchers when I took them out of the game. I told him that with Sid, it was easy: “You’ve had it. Don’t worry about it. You got your work in.”

With Mike Magnante, it was a little clumsy. He is not going to make the team, and he showed why. After several good outings, he was really bad tonight. His stuff was terrible, and his control wasn’t much better.

“You were walking so slow,” Kenny said.

“I know,” I admitted. “I didn’t know what to say. Then when I got there, I said, “That’s enough for tonight. I’m going to bring Mike in.” The problem was that Mike was already in, and I was bringing Tom Martin in. Now Magnante probably thinks I don’t even know his name. Or Martin’s either, for that matter.”

“That’s not so bad,” Cubby said. “I remember one time in Texas when a kid by the name of [Glenn] Abbott was making his first big-league start [for Oakland]. He went along pretty well for three innings, and then he gave up two or three runs in the fourth.

“The kid was feeling pretty good about his first start, until Dick Williams came to the mound. ‘Give me the fucking ball,’ he said. ‘With that horseshit stuff you’re throwing, you might get somebody killed out here.’

“I don’t think Magnante felt as bad tonight as Abbott felt when Williams got through with him.”