RMJ 86 May 11

SUNDAY, MAY 11 — MOTHER’S DAY ● Miami, vs Florida

We didn’t have a lot of time to savor the big win. That’s the way it is in baseball; you go right out the next day and have to prove yourself again.

I learned from one of the writers that Leyland went to the mound last night to stall, hoping he could make Wagner sit and worry. It was like calling time out before a free-throw or a field-goal attempt.

I could see the logic. But from my standpoint as a pitcher, sitting does not make me worry; going to the mound breathing hard is what makes me worry.

I told Bill about all this, and he said, “C’mon, all the running he does, and you think sprinting down the line 90 feet is going to make him too tired to pitch?”

“Not too tired to pitch; just vulnerable. If he gets in trouble right away, it could be a problem. Believe me, I’ve been there.”

“How could you be that tired?” he asked. “I ran the bases all the time, and I wasn’t that tired.”

“I know, but you were used to running the bases. There was no tension in your stride, no adrenaline rushing through your system. I can’t explain it any better, but I know it’s true. Ask Vern if you don’t believe me.”

I don’t think Bill asked Vern, but it does point out the difference between having a manager who was a pitcher and one who played a position. I don’t pretend to know the psychology of hitting, or the finer points of defensive play. I feel like I have to leave these things up to my coaches.

Last night, with runners on first and third, Cubby sprang from his seat and jumped up on the top step of the dugout. “Sean,” he yelled, “get back and over a little. He’s not going to bunt. Ricky, move over.” He kept yelling at them until he had them where he wanted them.

When he came back to the bench, I said, “I’m impressed. You’re finally starting to take charge around here.” It was an ironic statement, since I am presumably in charge. But I want the coaches to think for themselves and act, just like the players.

I never played the infield. I noticed where they were playing behind me when I pitched, and I had some thoughts about double play-configuration. But Cubby played there; managed and coached there. His instincts about infield play are bound to be better than mine.

“Seriously,” I said. “If you see something that needs changing, don’t ask me. It may be too late. Do it, just like you did there. Just do it.”

“Just doing it”, has been a problem with Sean Berry. He is a sensitive guy, and he wants to do well. But he is a little more cerebral and less intuitive than some other players.

His shoulder still hasn’t fully recovered. No one knows how it feels but him, yet our doctors and trainers feel that he should be able to throw naturally and with good arm strength by now.

Watching him, you get the impression that his arm is hurt as badly as it was last year. He runs across the infield to throw. He has to get himself squared off to throw.  He looks stiff, unnatural. It is clear that he is still protecting his arm. I know the feeling.

The proof that he is still thinking about it came when I talked to him about taking some extra work on throws tomorrow afternoon. He was willing to work at it; he acknowledged the problem, and he wants to solve it. But then he said, “I think I’ve finally figured out what’s wrong with my hitting. My shoulder is still weak, and I’m not finishing my swing in a strong position because of it.”

I know this is not true, because he finished his swing strong last year when his shoulder was injured. It may be just as sore now as it was last year, but it couldn’t possibly be worse; he is simply in a slump.

But the tipoff on his throwing came to me when he talked about his hitting. He still doesn’t really believe his shoulder is fixed.

Whatever he believes, he came through with a big two-out hit for us today.

Donne Wall, starting for the first time in ten days because of a groin pull, was wild. He gave up four runs in the first three innings, and when I took him out, I put in Sean Berry as part of a double-switch. Sean’s hit was a double, and we ended up getting another run because of it.

At 4-3, it was anybody’s ballgame. If we could win with Donne Wall going against Alex Fernandez, I would think we were really hot. But it was not to be.

Ramón Garcia pitched well, but he gave up a run on a windblown popup, and another on a hanging curve ball, and we lost 6-3. It was one of those losses that wasn’t so tough to accept. We didn’t give the game away; they simply took it.

 

One play occurred, however, as we were trying to make our comeback. It was a play that I will have to review with our hitters.

Remember when I told James Mouton that when I pinch-run with him, I want him to steal? Well, we had runners at first and third with one out in the eighth, and I put him in to run at first.

On the first pitch, he got a great jump. Unfortunately, Brad Ausmus bunted on that pitch, and he was thrown out at first.  If Brad had taken the pitch, James would have stolen the base easily.

I couldn’t blame Brad for trying the bunt; he was the tying run, and he is not a home-run hitter. But if he had waited for the steal, we would have had men on second and third with one out, and Sean on deck — with home-run capability.

A single would have brought us to within one run, and we had two chances to get it. After the bunt, we had one chance, and Sean struck out.

           

I went blading with Dave again after the game. It was delightful at the beach, as the daytime crowd morphed into creatures of the night before our very eyes.

Aside from the fact that I almost got hit by a car, it was a great way to put the loss behind and move forward. We had dinner on the deck of the hotel swimming pool, along the Intercoastal Canal. Laughter bubbled from the Tiki bar as a soft breeze played syncopated rhythms with the riggings of the nearby sailboats. The beer was cold and the steamers were hot.

This isn’t such a bad life, even when you lose — as long as you don’t get in the habit of losing.