RMJ 43 March 29

SATURDAY, MARCH 29 ● El Paso, vs Milwaukee

I finished Beach Music last night. A fine story. Author Pat Conroy is a lot like John Irving: a great storyteller. He can play your emotions like a violin. His imagination seems limitless. He was a little wordy for my taste, but the abundant verbiage didn’t ruin the story. It was a fine diversion that lasted the entire spring.

When I got to the ballpark two hours early, Vern was already there. I had to renew my prescription for the bladder infection that won’t quit; he didn’t have an excuse, other than being excited. I guess the only guy who is more fired up than Vern and me is Tom Martin. Martin was such a long shot to make the team that he has been floating around on air the last few days.

Vern and I went to breakfast at Denny’s. He doesn’t drink, except for an occasional beer. And he gets a pretty good workout at the ballpark each day. Still, he tends to carry a few extra pounds. Now I know why.

When we went to dinner this spring, he wanted Mexican food. At Denny’s, he ordered pancakes, eggs, and sausage. He ate a meal on the plane, and pizza in the clubhouse before the game. Then he ate a couple of enchiladas after the game. He topped it all off with a cheeseburger on the plane ride to Dallas.

I may have to stop calling him The Perfessor and start calling him The Trencherman — naw.

When we got back from breakfast, Martin presented me with a cigar. “This is from Dave Engle,” he said. “He told me you couldn’t smoke it until you got your first win.”

           

The flight to El Paso, AA home of the Brewers, was uneventful. Most everyone caught a few winks. Milwaukee’s manager, Phil Garner, is a good friend of mine — good enough to put one over on me, and he almost did.

As we exchanged lineups, he said, “Don’t forget, Daylight Saving Time starts tonight. We have to spring forward. I told all my players already, because we have a day game tomorrow.”

I made a mental note to check with Barry Waters about this. Good thing I did, before I told the team: Daylight Saving Time doesn’t start until April 6. Barry checked his calendar to make sure.

While we were chatting it up around home plate, Garner asked me if we would trade Darryl Kile.

“We would consider it,” I said.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“You don’t want to know,” I replied.

“C’mon, don’t play games. You can tell me.”

“It’s your boy.”

“My boy? What are you talking about?”

“About Listach.”

“You’re kidding! He’s not playing well?”

“Other than hitting and fielding, he’s doing pretty well.”

“I’ll be damned,” he said. “I thought he’d really do a job for you if he got to play every day.”

“Well, he still might,” I said. “We’re not in a panic mode yet.”

 After the game, I checked a book on scouting reports. Near as I can tell, the Brewers don’t have anyone to offer for Kile. Too bad for us. And especially too bad for Phil; smoke-and-mirrors only goes so far. He needs a few more good ballplayers.

           

The game was a case in point. Kile threw well enough to keep their power hitters in check, and our speed advantage was evident — on the bases and in the field.

In the eighth inning, we got a real scare when Luis González was hit in the right elbow by Ron Villone. You could hear the cracking sound all over the ballpark.

When I pinch-ran for Gonzo, we had a 3-1 lead with two outs and men on first and second. The team was pretty upset, almost to a point of anger. Villone walked Sean Berry and then he almost decapitated Bobby Abreu. Abreu got up and cleared the bases with a double. We went on to score eight runs, all with two outs, to put the game away.

Afterward, we watched the end of the Kentucky-Minnesota basketball game and then showered for the trip to Dallas. As we were leaving, Listach came up and gave me a fine cigar, an Ashton Maduro, Garner’s favorite smoke.

“Phil told me to give you this,” he said. “But he told me you couldn’t smoke it until you got your first win.”

Looks like my first win will be a two-cigar night.

We arrived in Dallas about midnight. I wrote Garner a postcard as follows:

           

Dear Scraps: We sprung forward all right — in the eighth inning — a little early. Lucky for me, I didn’t take the bait, and for Gonzo, an inch above the bone — He’s OK.

Thank you for the cigar. I hope to enjoy it on April 1. But if I can’t smoke my fool head off then, I will save it for the proper occasion. It was great to see you, and I wish you well — Dierk  

 

I went to sleep tonight knowing we would have a winning record this spring. We are two games over .500 with one to play. After that we turn up the heat, as the Braves come into Houston on the warpath.