RMJ 82 May 7

WEDNESDAY, MAY 7 ● Houston, vs Mets

I went by Norton Ditto to pick up two suits, and Dick Hite asked me if I needed anything else.

“Well, a couple pair of casual pants would come in handy for this next road trip,” I said. Ten minutes later, I had the pants and was on my way to the Dome to meet the Mets. I could get used to this bigshot status: suites in all the hotels; a car to drive; and clothing to wear just for acting as a spokesman.

The trick is to win enough ballgames to keep your job.

 

I have often said that I would never bet on a baseball game. The reason is simple: the more you know about baseball, the less-confident you feel predicting what will happen.

I happen to think we have a pretty fair team, and a good staff, but I don’t know if we will finish 90-72 or 72-90. Right now, the former looks like the better guess. But we have a long way to go, and anything can happen. Still, I felt we would win this game.

Shane Reynolds was going against Armando Reynoso; and a guy who killed us last year, Mets centerfielder Lance Johnson, was on the disabled list. I had a complete menu of players who have hit Reynoso well at my disposal. And Shane has been in a great groove.

As I filled out my lineup card, I hesitated in left field. Thomas Howard was 8-for-18 off Reynoso, and Luis González was just 4-16. Luis was hot, and Thomas was cooling off after a hot start. Which way to go? The numbers said Howard, but my instinct said Gonzo. Reynoso is a breaking-ball pitcher, and that is right up Gonzo’s alley.

I chose Howard.

Before the game, Mac told me that Gonzo was upset and that Derek was still lobbying to hit third in the lineup. I tried to catch Gonzo in a private moment, but I couldn’t do it.

As for Derek, I was almost desperate enough to get him started hitting to consider his request. Maybe if he thought he was going to get good pitches to hit, he would hit some of them.

The truth is that he has had plenty of good pitches to hit in the four- and five-spots in the order. And I was a little peeved that he would persist with this line of thinking, when it was clear to me that his best spot for the game would be on the bench. If I moved him anywhere, it should be down to seventh or eighth.

One thing I was not going to do is move Bagwell. He is doing just fine hitting third. He gets on base almost twice as often as Bell, and he runs the bases well. Why on earth would I want to move him?

The first inning was a case in point.  Bagwell hit a home run, then Derek struck out to end the inning. The Mets scored a run in the fourth to tie the game. After that, it was the Land of Missed Opportunities for us.

To be fair, the Mets had Shane in a lot of trouble too. Both pitchers were tough when they had to be.

It was still 1-1 in the ninth when I brought Tom Martin in to pitch. Tom has not allowed an earned run this year. That streak came to an end when Butch Huskey hit a two-run pinch-homer. We lost the game 4-1.

           

During this contest, I was especially irritable. I was yelling shit and damn it throughout the game. Finally, Bill looked at me like, “what’s wrong with you tonight?” I got the message.

“I don’t know what it is,” I said. “But I don’t have any patience tonight. Maybe it’s because I thought we would get to this guy, and we haven’t been able to.”

“That happens sometimes,” Bill said. “You can’t really count on winning a game, no matter who is pitching.”

I knew this to be true. This is why I wouldn’t bet on baseball.

“I just hate to let this one get away, with Hamp pitching tomorrow. This could turn out to be a lousy homestand. And with 15 of our next 17 games on the road, we can’t afford that.”

“I hear what you’re saying,” he said. “But you can’t do much about it.”

 

 

One thing you can do is go for the win at all costs when you get to the ninth inning tied. I could have used Wagner or Hudek, but I called on Martin. The way he has been pitching, I wasn’t second-guessed. But I made a mental note to consider all these decisions and feelings, and to get better control of my emotions.      

After the game, I was calm with the writers. I’ll know I’ve lost it if I get angry and say something that I will regret when it gets in the paper. Tomorrow we have a day game, so I won’t have time to stew on this one.

Just get home and pack, and get back to the Dome for Getaway Day.