RMJ 84 May 9

FRIDAY, MAY 9 ● Miami, vs Florida

Today we start a campaign on foreign territory. We are four games above .500. I said at the beginning that I would be satisfied with a .500 record at the end of May. Well, I would still be satisfied, even though we only have three weeks left to protect our first-place standing.

During the next three weeks, we will play only two games at home.

The next four games are with the Marlins — a great-looking team that has not hit well yet, and is still over .500 with Jimmy Leyland calling the shots. This is a major test.

To prepare for it, Bill, Vern, Cubby, and I played golf. It was a fine day in south Florida, and we had a better go of it this time: Cubby shot 78, and the rest of us shot in the 80s.

Bill won all the money; he is the high-handicapper in our group, and he played the back nine well. Vern and I broke even, and Cubby lost $12. It’s nice to have a low handicap, but it can be costly.

 

Carlos Ledezma runs a good visitors’ clubhouse. With the snacks, the television, the Ping Pong® table, and the music, it is a fine place to kick back.

When we arrived at 2:15, there were already six or seven players there. The mood was good. But everyone knew that the rematch between Darryl Kile and Kevin Brown was close at hand.

I had Cheo take the lineup card out, because he had such great success on the West Coast. Bobby Bonilla carried the card out for the Marlins. I thought Jimmy showed some class by taking the card out himself in Houston; it legitimized me, in a way.

I know that he is a tough opponent, and I admire him — not only for his accomplishments, but also for his honest devotion to the game. 

Jimmy spent most of his life in the minors as a good-field, bad-hit catcher. He spent many years managing in the minors and coaching in the majors before he got the big job with the Pirates. He also interviewed for the Astros job that year, but it went to Hal Lanier. If the Astros had offered him the job, he might still be here, and we might have been to the World Series. I would still be announcing, and we would be golfing buddies. Instead, we go toe-to-toe.

I do not subscribe to the La Russa/Leyland brand of managing. I’m more in the Bobby Cox/Jim Fregosi mold. I like my pitchers to go deep into the games, and I don’t mind letting my lefthanded hitters bat against lefthanded pitchers.

I like to save my ammunition; Jimmy sometimes spends his. His track record is unassailable; mine is embryonic. Still, I must follow my instincts, as he follows his.           

Each time we get a runner on base, he has his pitcher step off, throw over, step off, throw over, hold the ball, slide-step, and on and on ad nauseam. At one point in tonight’s game, we saw three pitches in five minutes.

As an announcer, I was upset about this. I thought this type of micromanagement was jeopardizing the appeal of the game. One night I said something like, “When chess becomes the number-one spectator sport, that’s when this type of baseball will really be popular. I love baseball, and I can hardly stand to watch this. It’s just too slow.”

Well, it is too slow. But winning is the bottom line, and Leyland beat us with his tactics tonight. It was a great game; another pitcher’s duel.

Kile had Brown down 2-1 after seven innings, but neither pitcher was as sharp as he was in Houston. We went with Hudek to start the eighth. I thought he could get through it, and that it would build his confidence against a team that he had trouble with in Houston. Billy Wagner was ready to close the door. 

Bobby Bonilla intervened with an RBI double to right-center, and we went to the ninth tied. Leyland went with his ace, Robb Nen. He double-switched so that Nen could pitch two innings if necessary.

I had Wagner ready, and Hudek could have pitched another frame, but I didn’t want to spend both of my closers in a game that could go on and on.

I sent José Lima, persona non grata a week ago but pitcher on the move now, out to pitch the ninth. This is the difference between playing on the road, compared to playing at home.

At home, you are not afraid to use your closer, because if you stop them, all you need is one run and they are desperate to stop you. On the road, you may score a run in the ninth, and bring in your closer.

But what if you don’t score? Do you let him pitch another inning? Do you risk everything on this win, when the other team has the last at-bat?

I have felt this way before as a pitcher: in 1966 in New York, when I had a perfect game going in the ninth; and once in Atlanta in 1969 when I had a no-hitter in the ninth. On both occasions the score was 0-0. I knew that if I pitched a no-hitter, it really wouldn’t be a no-hitter, because I still had to pitch the tenth. 

At Shea, I lost the game in the ninth on two hits that our fielders got gloves on, but couldn’t catch.

In Atlanta, I lost the no-hitter on an infield hit with two outs, and we lost the game in the 13th after I had pitched 12 shutout innings.

Those games obviously made an impression on me. I know how hard it is to beat the home team in the end.

 

Tonight it was déjá vu all over again, as Yogi says.

The Marlins’ first batter, Alex Arias, hit a wicked shot at Biggio. It bounced in front of him, got under his glove, and went for a two-base error. I knew that they would try to bunt Arias to third, and I had many choices:

 

• I could try a slider pitchout, with the catcher trying to pick the runner off second.
• I could let rookie Ralph Milliard bunt and take the out at first, then walk the slumping Edgar Renteria and try for the double play on Jim Eisenreich.
• I could try a “wheel” play, where the shortstop covers third and the first- and third-basemen charge in to get the play at third. This is ordinarily done when there are runners at first and second, and it is a force at third. But it can be done on a tag play, if it is executed well.

 

I didn’t think Arias would be alert to this possibility, and with the hitters they had coming up, I decided to risk the wheel play. If it worked, they would have a runner at first with one out. And I felt my chances for success were better, because I had inserted Tim Bogar to play third in place of Sean Berry.

The play worked perfectly, except for one thing: Bogar dropped the ball as he went to throw it, and both runners were safe. 

We pitched to Renteria; we really had no other choice. He grounded out, with Milliard moving to second.

This presented me with my most difficult decision to date:

Jim Eisenreich is a great contact hitter, and he has performed well against the Astros. Gary Sheffield is another story; he is one of the best hitters in the game. Like Bagwell, he not only hits in the clutch, he walks in the clutch. If I intentionally walked Eisenreich, I would have to depend on Lima throwing strikes to Sheffield – a frightening thought in itself. But I had no better options, so we walked Eisenreich.

Lima went 3-1 on Sheffield. José then made one of the best pitches of his life: a changeup that Sheffield bounced weakly to third. Bogar came in, right next to the bag, and then was blinded by the lights. He stuck his glove up, hoping the ball would find it, but it missed by several inches, going over him and down the line. If Bogey had been able to see the ball, it would have been an easy double play. As it was, we lost 3-2.

 

It was a great game. I had no regrets about my role in defeat. And of course, I had to respect Leyland for his role in stopping our running game and getting the run when he needed it.

I went immediately to Lima in the clubhouse, to congratulate him on making a great pitch.

Then I went to Hudek, who had his stool scooted up and was hanging his head in his locker. I grabbed him on the shoulder and tried to get him to look up, but he would not. He wanted to pitch the ninth, and maybe I should have let him. I didn’t, because we are on the road and they have the last at-bat. I thought we could hold them in the ninth with Lima, and keep Hudie available for tomorrow’s game. I didn’t want to use my closers unless we had the lead.

Anyway, he was distraught.

“Hey, man, it’s a long season. Get your head up,” I said. “That’s not the first double Bobby Bonilla has ever hit. And you’re still ready to get him tomorrow.”

These words of consolation were not acknowledged, but they were heard. I will have to back them up with my actions to get him back on track.

The last and most-important contact was with Bogar. I put him in for one inning to play defense and he becomes the goat. This can be a career-ending inning for a fringe player; that’s how precarious his life can be.

I know I can do something else if I don’t keep managing. I’m sure he doesn’t know what he will do when he can’t play good defense. The first play he failed to make was not easy, but it was makeable. The second was impossible.

“Forget it, Bogey,” I said. It’s one game, and it’s over. If I need you to play defense tomorrow, you’re in there. This doesn’t change a thing.”

 

It did change one thing, however: the Pirates beat the Braves tonight, and we are now in second place. I am not worried about the Pirates, but I am still concerned with the next three weeks.