RMJ 122 June 17

TUESDAY, JUNE 17 ● Kansas City, vs Royals

Life on the road is luxurious for Judy. She normally goes on a sleep-deprivation program when I am at home, staying up with me after the game and getting up early with Ryan. Last night we slept nine hours!

I wrote about last night’s game this morning, because I couldn’t stand to think about it last night. It didn’t play out that well this morning, either.

 

Judy read the paper while I wrote, then we took off for the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum at 18th and Vine. This is an interesting neighborhood. Looks like a slum in the making, until you go inside the museum and look at the old photographs.

Actually, the neighborhood is on the upswing again. Jackhammers and saws testified to the renewal. The photographs showed a three-story brick building that was once Matlaw’s clothing store. Matlaw’s once dispensed the finest threads in town to the ballplayers and fans who dressed “to the nines” on the occasion of a Negro League game.  The neighborhood was the center of nightlife back then, and there are still jazz and blues clubs nearby.

A row of buildings along Vine has already been restored. This work was done by Robert Altman for his film Kansas City. Now the adjacent buildings along 18th are getting a facelift. In the fall, the Museum is moving from its current location to more-spacious quarters across the street.

We toured the exhibits. For Judy, the story of Blacks in baseball was fascinating. For me, the fascination was with the photographs and equipment displays. They sort of filled in the blanks of a story I already knew.

We ran into some fans from Houston, and soon the word got out that the manager of the Astros was there. Curator Raymond Doswell introduced himself and shared some insights into the Museum and the exhibits.

Don Motley, a longtime scout and coach in this area, spent some time with us. His brother Bob was one of the first Black umpires, and there is a locker with his gear on display. These days, Don still does some coaching, but his attention is on his grandson Brittan, who was recently signed by the Padres.

There is no mistaking a baseball man. His words will give him away in an instant. Don is one of these. His love of the sport oozes from every pore. And he is so proud of Brittan, he can hardly stand it. He kept talking about Brittan’s exploits, and appended each episode with, “and he’s a really good kid.”

“What was his name again?” I asked. “I want to be sure I know him when I see him in San Diego.”  

           

Another story Don shared really tickled me. Seems his brother Bob tossed Buck O’Neil out of a game. That night there was a shortage of rooms, and they had to sleep in the same bed. “I still say you can’t see.” As he turned out the light, Buck mumbled, “I still say you can’t see.”

Buck O’Neil was the most-impressive character in Ken Burns’ documentary Baseball. His sunny personality, charming manner of speaking, and animated facial expressions were the perfect counterpoint to the film’s somber tale of bigotry.

Even as he spoke of the indignities he suffered in the Negro Leagues, Buck’s face glowed with the fondness of his memories. I might add, he was one helluva ballplayer.

I will always treasure a quote that appears in his biography I Was Right on Time:

There is nothing greater for a human being than to get his body to react to all the things one does on a ballfield. It’s as good as sex, it’s as good as music. It fills you up.   

Hal McRae once said, “Buck just makes you feel good. You might be blue, you might be in a slump, but a few minutes with Buck and the world is a wonderful place.

“Do you know what he is? He’s the guiding light.”

           

We ended up spending more time at the Museum than we had intended, and when I got to the ballpark, I was not right on time: I was late. We were taking extra hitting, and Mac did not allow the players to play Home Run Derby; he made them work on situational hitting. Hitting to the right side to move a runner. Bunting. Hitting a fly ball with a man on third. That sort of thing.

Afterward, we talked about situational running. Hitting-and-running. Running-and-bunting. Moving up on balls in the dirt. A lot of things Mac learned playing with the White Sox under Eddie Stanky.

“Why don’t we get some of the players in early and talk to them about these things?” I said. “I’ve already encouraged some of them to do the plays you’re talking about, but my hunch is that they don’t think I know what I’m talking about, because I was a pitcher. Coming from you, it will have more impact.”

“I don’t know if they’ll listen to me either, skipper,” Mac said. “But when we played for Stanky, we had to listen. We all had one-year contracts.

“But I’ll tell you this: it works. We’d always be in the race, with a weak-hitting team. We’d get outhit 9-5 and win 4-3. I had ten different signs for plays we ran. It was the same way with Tommy Agee and Al Weis. You talk about manufacturing runs? We didn’t talk about it. We did it.”

Naturally, we didn’t manufacture anything tonight.

We couldn’t get Derek to stop talking to the Royals’ infielders long enough to give him a hit-and-run sign or a steal sign. I guess his attitude now is to ignore the third-base coach, so he doesn’t miss a sign.

At any rate, we didn’t need “little ball” because we played “big ball.” Derek was in the middle of it, with three hits. Ramón Garcia, with his mother recovering from heart surgery at Methodist Hospital in Houston, pitched five shutout innings. We won 10-2.

Clearly, we did not need the two extra runs Derek should have scored. First, he was thrown out at the plate when he loafed around the bases on Sean Berry’s double off the centerfield wall. Then he broke back to second on Berry’s line single up the middle. If he had known where Jose Offerman was playing, he would have broken for third and scored easily on Thomas Goodwin’s weak throw. As it was, Cubby had to stop him at third.

We did not need those runs tonight. But what about tomorrow? And what about Berry? He lost two RBI in the process.

I guess I’m going to have to talk to Derek tomorrow. This is getting old.

           

After the game, Drayton came down with David Glass, the owner of the Royals and his chief antagonist. Our timing couldn’t have been better. We stunk it up last night, and Glass would have stuck more than a few needles into Drayton. Drayton’s going back to Houston tomorrow for a meeting with the mayor on the stadium lease issue, so Glass will have no chance for revenge.

Drayton was proud as a peacock. He introduced Glass to Biggio, Bagwell, and a few other players. I really enjoy seeing him happy. So many times, the problems we have had on the field and at the gate have dampened his enthusiasm.

           

Gerry came in after I talked with the reporters. We discussed the upcoming Fox games with the Cubs and the Pirates. Fox wants to put a microphone on the manager, so they can broadcast the private conversations in the dugout. I am adamantly opposed to this. It really makes me mad. I already declined this proposal earlier this season.

Now Fox has stepped up the pressure: they have convinced Major League Baseball to make miking mandatory. If you don’t do it, your team is fined $100,000. This is so preposterous that if it didn’t affect me personally, I would think it was funny. Because we cannot control our expenses and depend so mightily on the Fox network, we have, in effect, made a deal with the devil.

Think about it: I’m talking to Vern about a possible pitching change.

“I don’t want this guy,” I say. “I don’t like his chances against so-and-so.”

Now this guy’s wife hears this on the broadcast and asks her husband, “Why can’t you get so-and-so out?”

Where does this put Vern and me?

What if we are considering a squeeze play and I tell Bill, “Let’s do it if the count goes 2-1.” Then the other team’s pitching coach goes to the mound.

In the meantime, one of the opposing players runs down from the clubhouse and says, “they’re going to squeeze on the 2-1 count.”

We have been assured that they won’t broadcast any foul language, but they have already broadcast a Joe Torre expletive.

I understand what they want to do. There is no question it would make for a more-interesting telecast. But I ask this question: How would the president of Fox Sports like a camera and a microphone in his office during meetings and phone conversations? There are some things that need to remain private.

I have agreed to have a mike on Alan Ashby in the bullpen. If we have to mike someone in the dugout, there will be one of two things: constant cursing or mechanical failure.

Gerry feels exactly the same way, but we still don’t know what we are going to do about it.