RMJ 44 March 30

SATURDAY, MARCH 30 ● Arlington, Texas, vs Rangers

Today we were back in the big leagues again. The Rangers’ fine visitors’ clubhouse man, Joe Macko, had an omelet chef working in the lunchroom, alongside a breakfast buffet that would make the Hyatt proud.

The manager’s office was bigger than some of the entire locker rooms in Florida. It came with a fully outfitted desk, with television, a stereo, and a fresh pot of coffee. Around the corner there was a private locker, bathroom, and shower. It made me feel like a king.

That kingly feeling will last only as long as we are winning a fair number of games, and I am satisfied with my performance.

This game worked out well. With the help of walks and errors, we won easily.

 

It was not a rousing victory, however, as the questions surrounding El Sid were not answered in the affirmative.

The big guy struggled through four innings. He gave up only two runs, but he was still a little wild, and he was not throwing hard.

The Rangers were without three of their best hitters: Rusty Greer, Will Clark, and Juan González. I doubt Sid would have survived a healthy Rangers lineup.

In the third inning, Craig Biggio smashed a single down the third-base line, and he was thrown out trying to stretch it. He ended up jamming his fingers into the bag, and he hit his collarbone on the shin bone of Bill Ripken. Bidge will start the season with a couple of dings; perhaps that will make him feel comfortable.

Billy Spiers aggravated a chronic lower-back injury last night when he made a spectacular diving catch and turned it into a double play. Today he was sore, and I had to play him the entire game.

On the bright side, Gonzo was fine today. He was still a little sore above the elbow, but it didn’t affect his throwing or hitting.

 

After the game, I was talking to Macko about Garner’s practical joke. He reminded me that the Brewers were opening the season in Arlington. I told him that I was going to leave the postcard on Garner’s desk.

“Don’t move it,” I said. “And if you could, set the clock forward an hour.”

“No problem,” he said with a smile.

Joe is a baseball man, through and through. His son, Steve, was a top infield prospect with the Cubs. Steve had just reached the major-league level when it was discovered that he had testicular cancer.

The story was a sad one for all who knew Joe and Steve, for Steve did not survive. He ended up getting just 60 at-bats and succumbed to the disease at the age of 27 in 1981.

I know it is some consolation to Joe that he is able to continue his life in the world of baseball. You get the impression that he treats every player as if they were his son.

 

The flight home was uneventful. When we got off the team bus at the Astrodome, television cameras were blazing away, and I was greeted by a bouquet of microphones.     

“What about your starting pitching?” I was asked, before I could even put my bags down. Perhaps I was a little terse when I said, “We’ll have to have starting pitching, that’s for sure. I can’t think of a team that can do without it.”

After that, I asked if I could put my bags down first, and when we resumed, I was more accommodating.

I rode home with Cubby; he and his wife have rented a house near us. The house is owned by Scott and Becky Frederickson. Becky grew up near our first home and babysat for our daughter Julia many times. She really loved baseball, and baseball players.

As it turned out, she met Scott at the University of Texas, and they were married shortly after he started his professional career in the Padres organization. He was selected by the Rockies in the expansion draft, and he has been stuck in AAA for three years. This year, he got his release and an offer to play in Taiwan. That dovetailed perfectly with the Cubbages’ plan.

They have a furnished house, with a yard for Chief, their black Labrador retriever, for about half of what it cost them to live in an apartment in New York last summer. Such a deal.