RMJ 94 May 19

MONDAY, MAY 19 ● Philadelphia, vs Phillies

Today we were held hostage in Philadelphia.  Staying over after a Sunday day game to play a Monday-night game is a recent phenomenon. I wonder if our appearance on Fox’s Baseball Night in America has anything to do with it?

I don’t mind staying over that much, really. If it were September, when the travel gets under your skin like a chigger, and airplane food tastes like mush, it would be different. But this is our longest trip, and it’s almost over. Even though we only get to stay home two-and-a-half days, it’s nice to have one East Coast trip behind us.

On Thursday, we head for Denver and San Francisco, and the wives are allowed to come along. I know Judy will enjoy the break from her routine, and I will be glad to have her with me.

 

I woke up early and walked all over town this morning. I really need to start getting more exercise. My weight is all right, but I need to firm things up a bit.

When I returned to the hotel, I saw The Perfessor talking with Jim Deshaies and Bill Brown in the lobby. I asked Vern when he was going to the ballpark, and he said, “One o’clock.”

“Why don’t we just sleep there?” I asked.

“Well, Mac has extra hitting at 2 o’clock, and I have to throw to them,” Vern replied. “You don’t have to come out that early if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll be here waiting for you at 1 o’clock sharp,” I said. “I’m tired of walking around town, and I’m just about finished with my book. I don’t have anything to do but wait for the game anyway. At least if we check out of the hotel and go to the yard, it will seem like we are starting on our way home.”

 

When we got to the park, half the team was there; I think everyone felt the same way. Philadelphia is a much nicer city than it was ten years ago. But how much brotherly love can you stand? We’ve spent five nights here, which is the length of our average homestand this year.

Mac didn’t have any trouble getting volunteers for extra hitting today. Eight guys flailed away for an hour. Their labors were unimpressive. Well, maybe they were saving their good swings for the game.

I consulted The Perfessor regarding Mike Hampton.

When I talked to Gerry last night, he was so pissed off that he wanted to send Mike back to the minors. Vern and I aren’t ready to give up on him yet.

We watched the video of his performance, and we came to the same conclusion: He just isn’t hitting his spot low-and-away with the sinker. His other pitches were OK, but the sinker doesn’t sink when it’s belt-high. Instead, it rises — right over the fence.

Vern doesn’t feel like he has established good communication with Mike. I haven’t had a lot of luck talking to him, either. He is quick with the barbed repartee, but short on sharing true feelings.

Somehow, we have to get through to him.

I asked Vern if he would mind if I stood alongside the next time they work in the bullpen, and he welcomed the idea. We don’t have exactly the same take on what he needs to do to get the sinker to behave, but we both feel that sending him to the minors is too drastic a measure.

Gerry came by before batting practice to check on our pitching plans, and to talk about Mike. He wants a plan of attack, and I think he is right. Sometimes we are so sensitive about feelings that we let things go along, hoping for the best.

If we are going to skip him a start, and try to work with him on the side and maybe get him a couple of innings in relief, we need to tell him what we plan to do and ask him what he thinks would help.

We did this in the outfield during BP, and it was more of the same: tight-lipped, noncommittal. It was like trying to draw water out of a rock.

I feel we did make some progress, in the sense that he admitted that he was not pitching well; he could have brushed it off by saying his previous two starts were good, and this was just an off day. But he didn’t say that.

He said that he knew he wasn’t pitching well, and that it was not a physical problem but a mental thing.

“I just don’t have any confidence,” he said. “It’s like the chicken-and-egg thing. I have to pitch good to get my confidence back, but I can’t pitch good without confidence.”

“That’s a start,” I said. “There are ways to build your confidence between starts. It may take a little extra work, but if your arm is healthy, we can do it.”

I was hoping for some sign of eagerness at this suggestion, but his response was something like, “whatever.”

I made a mental note to try to talk to his wife, Kautia. She is a bright young lady. Perhaps she can give us some insight into his reticence. I just have to believe that this goes beyond pitching; that it is something deep down inside that is resisting help.

Most guys are too hopeful about getting help from coaches; they are looking for help all the time. But Mike seems to be a joker on one hand, and a hermit on the other. Sometimes he is the cockiest guy on the team; other times he looks like a lost soul.

           

The game with the Phils went better tonight.

D.K. has passed the Enigma title on to Mike, and he has taken up the sword of the staff like Sir Galahad. Seven innings; one run on a two-out solo homer on a 3-2 pitch; 8 strikeouts; one walk. He even got a base hit and drove in a run after the Phillies walled Ricky Gutierrez to pitch to him.

Sean Berry finally got off the Interstate (a batting average in the .100s; a guy hitting .145 would be on “I-45”) with a two-run homer to get us started. Biggio hit a solo shot to make it 3-0. Gonzo finally got a couple of RBI singles, and then Bagwell showed the Fox crowd his flair for the dramatic by hitting his 13th and 14th homers of the year. The second one made it 9-0 and was the 1000th hit of his career. In between, he walked, stole second, and scored.

There is no way we can win the pennant with Biggio and Bagwell shouldering most of the load. But there is also no way we can win it without them.      

John Hudek came in and pitched the eighth, giving up a three-run homer. Billy Wagner gave up a solo in the ninth. This happens all the time when guys who normally pitch in close games come into a blowout, because they need work to stay sharp. Most of the time it doesn’t make any difference, except in their earned run averages. In this case, it may affect Hudek’s confidence, as he is in a bit of a slump.

I’m not as worried about him as Vern and Gerry.  They haven’t seen him at his best, and I have. I have seen him pick off both corners of the plate, time after time, with 93-95 MPH fastballs.  His fastball is back in that range now, but he is not hitting corners. I believe he will return to form. I hope he believes it.

 

I was also hoping this day’s journal would get me from Philly to Houston, but I am written-out; my word-processor’s battery is almost dead; and we are still an hour from home.