RMJ 67 April 22

Tonight I go wet. Didn’t sleep worth a darn last night. Too hot. Mind racing. Bizarre dreams. When I finally looked at the clock for the last time, it was 3:30 and I had been in bed since midnight.

I awoke at 8:00, feeling fine. Had some French roast coffee and a couple of croissants, and read the paper sitting outside by the yacht club.

At 9:15 I walked to Horton Plaza to shop around. I was looking for some summery, barefoot shoes; a nice bottle of wine or two; and perhaps a cigar.

I got to the mall half an hour before the stores opened, and I did some window-shopping to pass the time. I seemed to grow more weary with each stride, and by the time the doors opened, I had lost my appetite for shopping.

I did find the shoes I was seeking at Nordstrom’s. They were “only” $170, but since that was more than $100 too much for me, I declined.

I didn’t have that problem with the wine.

I suppose I would be better shod if I thought as much of my feet as I do my taste buds and my nocturnal disposition. I know an army moves on its feet, but I don’t do combat anymore.

I guess I would go barefoot before I would spend $170 on casual shoes. If it weren’t so uncivilized, I would probably go barefoot a lot.

I did find another Hawaiian shirt. Well, kind of. It’s really more of a bowling shirt, in terms of the fabric. It has two front pockets and is embroidered on the back with a sexy lady surrounded by the words “Tommy Bahama Cigar Club, Relax.”           

I did not need this shirt, and it cost one-third as much as the shoes, but I couldn’t resist. Nor could I resist three bottles of wine at the Wine Bank.

A more-reasonable man would have come away with the shoes, without spending much more money. I suppose it is the romantic that resides somewhere between my brain and my belly that leads me astray. But I don’t mind being astray. I rather like it sometimes. Getting lost can be an adventure.

I had some raspberry frozen yogurt on the way back to the hotel. I was hoping to take a short run, but my heart wasn’t in it. Instead, I lazily read our scouting report on the Padres and perused the statistical information that might help me form a lineup. Mac called about 1:00 and said there would be extra hitting at 2:40. Hoping I would feel more energetic at the ballpark, I decided to go out and join in the fun. Vern called and said they would be leaving at 1:30. I decided to go along.

Looking back, I believe this was a tactical error on my part. I was just as logy at the ballpark as I had been all day. All I did was stand around the batting cage and shoot the shit. If I had stayed back, the waterfront breezes may have lured me into a little jogging. As it was, I didn’t get any exercise at all.

 

As we came off the field, I learned that the Padres were going to flip-flop their pitchers for the series. Fernando Valenzuela would open, and Joey Hamilton would follow.

I was glad to hear it. Fernando is still a tough foe, but we have not been able to hit Hamilton at all. With Shane Reynolds going for us, we had an excellent chance to win the opener, and thereby guarantee a winning road trip.

That’s exactly how it played out, but I never would have guessed it during the first three innings, which were scoreless.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I could have fallen asleep during the first hour of the game. From my vantage point, the players on both teams looked the way I felt: sluggish.

Fernando was slow, but he was jamming our hitters. Shane, who normally throws his fastball 87-90 MPH, was topping out at 87. Still, the hitters were swinging late.

The Padres scored first, on a single by Tony Gwynn. But we countered with a four-run inning, courtesy of sloppy Padres fielding. After that, we were never seriously threatened.

After each inning, Shane complained about feeling lifeless. I knew the feeling. And the Padres, coming off a time-warping trip to play the Cardinals in Hawaii, seemed dead too.

After we got the lead, things changed. We started swinging the bats and making the plays. It turned out to be an easy 12-3 win.

 

Afterward, I felt livelier. But honestly, I didn’t feel in any way responsible for the victory. There were few moves to make; I just watched the game, like any other fan.

It brought to mind something Art Howe told me this winter: “Sometimes, with the DH, I don’t feel like I have anything to do. I almost feel guilty about taking my salary, because all I do is watch the game.”

This is an exaggeration, of course. There is preparation in simply filling out the lineup card, and the game can play out as this one did, in which case filling out the card is enough. Most of the time, it is like it was for us in LA, where every change in the count has you on the edge of your seat, pondering a strategic option.

           

After the game, I was smoking a cigar in the shower when Luis Gonzalez came in cleanshaven and announced that he was a new man, and that his slump was behind him. Without the Van Dyke, he looked downright youthful.

I am not worried about his slump; I have seen him slump before. When he comes out of it, it will be with a vengeance.

“You got any more of those cigars?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “But I will tomorrow.”

 

We have really been lucky with the schedule so far. When we played the Cardinals, a few of their frontline players were injured. Now we are playing a Padres team that is without MVP Ken Caminiti and star centerfielder Steve Finley.

The media keeps asking me about our success in the early going against so many playoff teams. My attitude is that we will have to play each team the same number of games anyway, so we might as well play them now — especially when they are undermanned.

The only player we have been missing is Sean Berry, and he came back tonight and had an outstanding game — at bat and in the field.

If I could have drawn up the schedule in February, I would never have arranged it this way. As it turns out, it couldn’t play out any better.

What does that mean in the long run? Not much. We still have 143 games left to play, and there will be times when we can’t beat the Phillies or the Pirates.

This fast start is great for attendance, and for getting the naysayers off my back. Otherwise, it doesn’t mean a whole lot. If we have an August like we had in 1995 (9-20), there is no way we can win our division. If we play August and September the way we did in 1986 (34-21), no one can stop us.