RMJ 68 April 23

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23 ● San Diego, vs Padres

I’m not really superstitious, but just in case, I had coffee and croissants at the same place this morning. Instead of going to the shopping center, I went to the Cuban Cigar Factory on the advice of our visiting clubhouse attendant, Bob Doty.

This is my kind of factory: hands-on, no electricity. Just good tobacco, good Cuban hands, wooden racks, and round blades.

The shop features only two brands of cigar: one import and one handmade on the premises.

Cigar accessories are available at reasonable prices, and there are cigar magazines and local newspapers for those who wish to smoke on the premises. A paper demitasse of strong self-serve coffee is 25 cents. 

I thought it would be a good idea to try before buying, so I purchased a Maduro-wrapped Robusto and sat down with my coffee and a cigar magazine featuring Joe Torre on the cover. I couldn’t help but daydream about winning the World Series like Joe and smoking cigars all along the way.

 

I slept a lot better last night, and I felt good enough to take a post-smoke run along the waterfront. The breeze was refreshing, and the scenery was delightful. The passing parade of humanity, the strong odor of the fish market, the many flowering plants and trees, the lure of the sea — all these things made the drudgery of running seem almost pleasant.

Some people jog; I lumber. It is not a pretty sight. But it is part of the passing parade.

           

When I got back to the hotel, I had voicemail from Gerry. We need a pitcher for Tuesday, and Sid isn’t even close to being ready. We are going to bring Donne Wall back, and put Sid on the disabled list.

This is not a big deal to me, but to Gerry and The Perfessor, it is classified information, and they want it conveyed to the players in a timely manner and released to the press thereafter.

Gerry is especially sensitive about these things. He wants everything choreographed just so. I think he learned this out of necessity in New York.

           

We had early batting practice again today. Late batting practice too. For the second consecutive night, we teed off on Padres pitchers. This time we had to hit to win.

Mike Hampton was not sharp, and he didn’t get much help. We made four errors behind him, and he gave up five unearned runs in just over four innings. 

Though we were behind at several intervals, we were never out of the game. We were able to nick Joey Hamilton for the first time in a long time. He has had a sore shoulder, and I’m sure he can throw better, but he was still throwing 93-94 MPH with good movement.

 

I thought I blew it in the first inning; I was more upset with myself than I have been all year. I didn’t really make a major error — I just didn’t follow my instinct in the when we had runners on first and second with no outs, and Bagwell batting.

The count went to 3-2 and Bill asked me if I wanted to run. I said, “Yes.” Hamilton was slow to the plate, and I thought we might get a double-steal, even if Bagwell struck out.

We ran, and Baggy fouled the ball off.

“Run again?” Bill asked.

“Sure,” I said, mechanically. Then I felt a bad vibration, but I couldn’t elucidate it. The scene played out before my eyes, and I understood my premonition — too late.

Padres second baseman Quilvio Veras held Biggio closer at second. Hamilton knew he would be running.

If I were pitching to Bagwell, I thought, I would try to strike him out and get the double play on the throw to third. If I walked him, I would try for the double play against Derek Bell. What I would not do is serve up a pitch to hit with the runners moving.

Well, Hamilton must have read my mind, because he threw Bagwell a changeup, and a beauty.

“I can’t believe he threw a changeup,” Bagwell told me later. “He never throws me a changeup.”

Bagwell struck out. Biggio was thrown out. Bell made out. And we came away empty.

 

Between innings, I told Virdon of my thoughts. Bill is very aggressive when it comes to offense. He likes to let players swing 3-0 and run 3-1. I generally favor these strategies myself: keep the pressure on them. He told me he would have done the same thing.

Still, in this instance with Bagwell, my instincts said no and I said yes. Generally speaking, I take the aggressive tack when I think the odds are 50/50.  Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn’t. 

That’s baseball. 

I knew that Bagwell was 1-for-10 against Hamilton; I also knew that Hamilton is no control pitcher. And Bagwell usually doesn’t bite on borderline pitches. He would likely walk, moving the runners without risk. A ground ball is also likely when Hamilton is pitching. If we didn’t run, he could hit into a double play. A double-play ball was roughly a one-in-seven possibility in this situation.

I asked Bagwell what he was thinking, and he said he liked the runners moving.

“Most of the time, I can make contact or get a walk. I can do some damage with the runners on the move,” he said.

It seemed that no one thought there was any question about running in this situation — except me.

Maybe I will follow my instincts more closely as I go along.

 

The game proceeded from that point into a war of attrition. Bruce Bochy was still without two of his best players, Caminiti and Finley. But we made four errors, and Mike Hampton was wild.

We scored four runs off Hamilton, but Hampton didn’t last five innings.

During the first four innings, two of our players were injured. Bill Spiers was taken out at third as he tried for a double play on a bunt-play force at third. It was a beautiful execution of the play, but Archi Cianfrocco was quick enough to trip Spiers at the bag and twist Billy’s knee. He was down on the ground for a long time, but he continued playing.

When we came up, Hamilton hit Abreu on the side of the knee with a 93 MPH fastball. Bobby was down longer but he, too, continued.

These two incidents seemed to get us fired up, and I felt good about our chances. The errors on the infield were tough, as the ball came at our fielders like a Mexican jumping bean. The tricky hops nipped our infielders, inflicting minor damage.

They also frustrated Hampton, who was out of whack to begin with. When he tried three times and failed to get a bunt down, one of the fans behind the dugout started yelling at him; Mike yelled back.

I waited a minute and went to talk to him.

“Let it go,” I said. “You have to refocus. Forget the fans, forget the bunt, forget the errors, the umpires, everything. You can still win this game.”

Too bad we made another error, and then he walked the pitcher and I had to take him out.

 

In the top of the sixth, Biggio slid hard into Cianfrocco at third when he didn’t really have to. I thought we were going to have a fight right there, but Archi took it stoically. Later, I made a couple of switches to get Spiers and Abreu out of the game so they could ice their injuries.

I was talking to home plate umpire Joe West and said, “this isn’t a game, it’s a war.”

“Yeah, what the hell got into Biggio?” he said. “That was a clean play on Spiers. He would have done the same thing.”

“I know, Joe,” I said. “But he’s a red ass, just like you.” Joe laughed.

“You’re probably right,” he said.

Fortunately The Chief, Ramón Garcia, pitched better than Hampton. We continued the assault. We chased Hamilton and his replacement, Tim Worrell.

Bagwell delivered the coup de gras with a three-run homer off Tim Scott. And when I brought John Hudek in in the ninth to get some work, we were up 11-6. Hudek gave up a homer to Greg Vaughn, and when the next batter reached, I had Wagner get up and throw easily.

Hudek retired the next batter, and in the end, it was another game that I mostly just watched. I have learned to appreciate this variety, though I know these are not the games we have to win to have a great year.

They do give us the feeling, however, that we are a pretty good ballclub.  For now, that’s enough.

Afterward, Hudek asked me if he saw Wagner getting up.

“Yes,” I said. “You weren’t close to coming out, but I wasn’t going to let this game get away.”

He just shrugged, and I didn’t have to get into another long conversation with him, but I am getting tired of his constant criticism of my bullpen management. I don’t know if he is insecure or just greedy, but he seems to need more stroking than the rest of the players.

If it is insecurity, I can handle it. If it is greed, I will eventually have to say something harsh. I know it is his first arbitration year, and he has never made big money. But if he continues the way he is going, he will have 20 or more saves at the end of the year. True, Billy may have more, but John will still be due a hefty raise.

I don’t want players who think more about their salaries than they do about the team. But there will always be greedy players; that much I know. My hunch is that John is mostly insecure and only a little greedy. Time will tell.

We had to fly out of the Naval Air Station after the game because of the late hour. Turns out they will not allow food, luggage, fuel, and passengers to be loaded onto the plane simultaneously. Each was loaded separately, so we had to sit on the buses for half an hour.

It was a long day.