RMJ 80 May 5

MONDAY, MAY 5 ● Houston, vs Philadelphia

Before the game today, Gerry and Cubby were in my office. Rob came by to get the lineup.

“I have it right here,” I said. “But I wanted to talk to Cubby about it before posting it.”

“That’s cool,” Rob said. “I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

When I showed the lineup to Cubby and Gerry, they were nonplussed: Biggio’s name was not on the card.

“Something wrong with Biggio?” Cubby asked.

“Only that he is 3-for-19 off this pitcher,” I said. “I thought I would give Spiers a chance to play second. He’s hit this guy well.”

I could tell that this line of reasoning was not convincing. I had a little problem with it myself:

We like to give regulars a day off before or after an off-day, so that they effectively get two days off.

Biggio plays defense and runs the bases so well that he doesn’t always have to hit to help us win.  

I put his name back on the card and gave it to Rob.

Later, Bidge was Rollerblading around the clubhouse and I said, “Skate in here a minute.”

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I just wanted to issue the Al Oliver Challenge,” I said, cryptically.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Well, let’s put it this way,” I said. “I had you out of the lineup today because you have not hit Mark Leiter at all. Your buddies, Gerry and Cubby, talked me out of it.

“Here’s the challenge: back when I was pitching, I had some success against a great hitter by the name of Al Oliver.

“One night, I had a shutout going in the ninth against the Pirates in the Dome. Oliver had as good an at-bat as I have ever seen.  I made at least six or seven tough pitches, but he kept fouling them off. 

“It went to 3-2, and he hit a home run on a fastball that was right on his hands.  The next day, my old teammate Dave Giusti came up and punched me on the shoulder.

“’I really got you last night,’ he said. ‘I bet Oliver 20 bucks that he couldn’t get a hit off you last night.’  I called him an asshole, but I didn’t really mind. With all the great lefthanded hitters the Pirates had, I was just happy to win the game.

“So this is the challenge,” I said. “I say you can’t hit Mark Leiter. What do you say?”

“We’ll see,” he said with a smile.  

I also had a chance to visit with James Mouton before the game. I’m always looking for opportunities to talk one-on-one with players, but this can be difficult because they are seldom alone in a quiet place.

I believe that the setting and timing of these conversations is important. If you call a guy into your office to talk, or pull him off the field to talk, the whole team sees it, and it becomes a big deal. I prefer to fold the one-on-one time into the fabric of our workout, so that it seems natural.

The outfield, during batting practice, is a good place to talk. I’ve noticed that Jimmy Leyland spends time out there talking to his players.

I have also been able to sit with them on the bench during BP.

This time, I found Mouton in the lunchroom of the clubhouse, with no one else around.

I wanted to talk with him about his body language. I’m not sure a guy can change this behavior, because it is a personality trait — an ingrained response to pressure.

James is a good player, but he has never been able to win a fulltime job. Like most “extra men,” he seems insecure at times. And I think he sends this signal to the opponent — and especially, the umpires — way too often.

If he takes a close 2-2 pitch, he immediately turns to the home plate umpire with a “stray dog” look on his face. Because he looks so guilty, he seldom gets the benefit of the doubt from the ump.

The same thing is true when he steals a base. If it is close, he looks up with the sad eyes of a sinner at confession.

“Yer’ out!” the umpire barks. It’s almost automatic.

“Look at Biggio,” I suggested. “When he takes a close pitch, he never looks back. He just assumes it’s ball, and that is usually the way it is called. When he steals a base, he just gets up and brushes himself off. He never even looks at the umpire – he just acts like he was safe by a mile.”

 At first, James was a little defensive. He said that because he didn’t play every day, he didn’t always feel natural. He admitted he was probably too conservative on the bases, but he said that a lot of times, he just didn’t have the timing.

“If I can’t get a good jump, I’m out,” he said.

“Not necessarily,” I said. “In assuming you will be out you are giving the catcher credit for making a clean catch and a good throw. If you get a bad jump and he makes a bad throw, you will be safe. The other guys make mistakes, too.

“I’d like to see you play with more confidence — maybe even a little bit of recklessness. Like when you were a rookie.”

That made him smile. In his first game, he got three hits and threw a runner out at the plate. He stole bases at will that year. But he was unable to hit a righthander’s breaking ball — a weakness that ultimately relegated him to platoon status. 

“When I was a rookie, I didn’t understand the risks involved,” he said. “I’m a better ballplayer now; a smarter player now.”

“I don’t doubt that,” I said. “But you are a less-instinctive player now. I get the impression you are trying not to be the goat of the game, and in the process giving up the chance to be the star of the game.”

I think I was starting to get through to him. He said that he didn’t always feel comfortable, and sometimes felt like he was sometimes trying harder not to make a mistake than to make a great play.

“Look,” I said. “You are on the team, making good money. You are not going to be sent to the minors. And I am not going to jump you if you make a mistake on the aggressive side. I know that you understand situations, that you know the difference between an aggressive play and a stupid play.

“Review the possibilities before each pitch, whether you are hitting, fielding, or on the bases. Then when the pitch is made, trust your instincts and never — I mean never — look at the umpire like you pleading for mercy.”

This session went well. I think James accepted my observation as a challenge, rather than an indictment. This is why the setting is so important. If you call a guy into the office, he is worried to begin with. If you can catch him when he is relaxed, he is apt to be more receptive.

Time will tell whether or not he can loosen up. I don’t expect a miracle, but I hope for a small change for the better.

 

The same is true with Pat Listach. In fact, I told James that I was going to have the same chat with Pat.

“I don’t look like that, do I?” he asked.

I just rolled my eyes and brows up and to the side, in an example of body language that said yes.

Pat is under more scrutiny than James, because he makes a little more money and he is expected to be a starter. Throughout the spring and early season, he has been under the gun, and the strain is showing.

He doesn’t have as much speed or power as James, so he doesn’t fit as well as an extra man. I still don’t know if he can make it. I see flashes, but I still see the evidence of insecurity on his face way too often.

All of our veteran players like Pat. He is a helluva guy and a good professional. But we cannot play all year with a shortstop who is below-average in the field and at the plate.

I cannot keep the pressure off him. The opposing hitters and pitchers will keep it on him all the time. He is going to have to deal with it better to become the regular shortstop.

 

The game was a laugher. Chris Holt came up big on the fourth day, just as D.K. did yesterday.

Bagwell and González homered, and we won, 9-2.

Oh, and by the way, Biggio also homered, after looking inept in his first two at-bats.

“I just saved you a lot of money,” he said as he came back into the dugout. “We’d have killed you in Kangaroo Court if I took an oh-fer after what you said.”

“But you didn’t, did you?” I said. “You met the Al Oliver Challenge.”

             

Dale Robertson of the Chronicle called to say that he had been covering the Rockets vs Supersonics game at the Summit, and that Jimmy Buffett was there.

“I know you like Buffett,” he said, “and he’s going over to Carraba’s with Rudy T and some of the guys. Why don’t you stop by?”

I told him I probably wouldn’t. I was feeling a little tired, and I had a golf game scheduled with the coaches at 8:30 in the morning. I knew that a beer at Carraba’s could turn into several beers, and a long night.

As much as I would like to meet Jimmy Buffett, I feel the need to consider the coaches and the team first.