RMJ 129 June 24

TUESDAY, JUNE 24 ● Houston, vs Pittsburgh

It certainly wasn’t easy for me today. Fact is, I would rank this as my most difficult day so far.

I finally got to the bottom of my mail. Nothing left to do but pay bills. That can wait. I knew I would have to talk with Gerry before I talked to Biggio. I phoned him at his office, and he said that he was getting ready to call me.

“We need to talk about a few players,” he said.

“We sure do,” I replied.

“Why? What’s up?”

“I’ve got a little problem. Let’s do your list first.”

“Well, I just wanted to finish our conversation about bringing Chucky Carr up.  Are we agreed that we will put Montgomery on the DL and then do the Listach thing on Monday when Bobby comes back?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Biggio,” I said.

“Biggio,” he said, with a sigh.

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s getting out of control.” I gave him the laundry list of offenses, and he was surprised.

“I knew he was stubborn, but this is too much. You have to say something,” he said.

“I have a strange idea,” I said. “Probably can’t do it, but I sure would like to see him try to manage the team.”

“What?” he said, incredulous.

“I’d like to take a lineup card, fill Bogar’s name in the two-hole. Hand it to him, and tell him the coaches and I were at his disposal. That if he wants to be the manager, I will hand it over to him, so he can see how he likes it.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I would seriously like to try it, but not without your approval. My fear is the press. They find out and drive the wedge between us, and it’s curtains.”

I know Gerry is sensitive to the media, and I killed my own idea — which I secretly wanted to kill anyway — by suggesting a media circus. I think I just wanted someone to think about him down there on the hot seat, and of the poetic justice that might be done there.

“There’s just no way we could keep this out of the media.” Gerry said. “I appreciate your dilemma, but I think you have to just talk to him. You have to tell him who is boss. And you have to appeal to his sense of the team concept and winning. You’re good with words. Let me know how it comes out. I’ll support you all the way.”

This was about 1:30. Cubby was coming at 2. I was pacing around the house like an expectant father, trying to come up with just the right words. I struck upon the idea of a fatherly reference to get me started. My stomach was twisted in knots.

           

When we got to the ballpark, Bidge was not there yet. He usually comes in about 2:30 or 3. I prepared some notes. Went over my sequence of offenses. Categorized them.  Tried to anticipate his response. Should I have someone bring him in, or should I seek him out?

I wasn’t nearly as mad as I had been the night before. In fact, I wasn’t mad at all; just afraid that I might make things worse by using the power play. But what else could I do? If we continue down this path, it will be anarchy by the All-Star break.

I walked through the training room and saw the Sanders brothers, our Internet consultants, in Dave Labossiere’s office. They are not frequent visitors to the clubhouse, so I asked them what they were up to. They said they were waiting to do a chat session with Biggio at 3:30.

“Great,” I said, feeling anything but great. This session would last at least half an hour. If Bidge came in right now, I couldn’t meet with him before 3:30. From my limited experience with chat sessions, I knew there would be plenty of disappointed Biggio fans if he was not on the Net as scheduled.

When he came in, he popped his head in the coaches’ room and asked why he wasn’t in the lineup. “I need to talk to you about that later,” I said. “After your chat session.”

I ended up waiting until 4:30. By that time, everyone was out on the field.

“C’mon in and close the door,” I said.

He pulled up a chair. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Well, first of all, you are not in the lineup because I’m the manager of this team, and you need to know that.”

He gave me a quizzical look – a look I would see a lot in the next half-hour.

“Listen,” I continued, “this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do as a manager, by far. I have so much respect for your accomplishments, your intensity, your focus, your willingness to play hurt. All of these things are critical to our team. Put more simply, we can’t win without you. And I will use you tonight to win this game. I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face. 

“But several things have been building from spring training on that threaten my ability to lead this team. Things that everyone can see.”

I went over the list of offenses. He was mostly quiet. A couple of times he objected, pleading innocence. The general tone was civilized, but he kept giving me that “Who, me?” look.

“Look,” I said. “There is no way you can know how I feel, sitting here, but it’s almost like a father-and-son thing.

“Let’s say Connor (his son) is in the kitchen, and you ask him to take out the trash. What if he said, ‘Not now, Dad. This isn’t a good time for me to do that.’ How would you feel? Well, that’s how I feel if you ignore a sign. Especially a sign about playing in or back when we’re hollering to get your attention. Everyone in the dugout saw us motion you back last night, and you just kept playing in.”

He protested again. Said he didn’t see us. I suppose that this is possible, because I look at things and don’t see them sometimes when my mind is otherwise occupied. But in this case, he should be looking for a sign.

“Look, I’m not saying I’m always right. But I am aware of the situation, and I have my own thoughts about what to do. You have your thoughts, and I appreciate you sharing them with me. But make it after the game — or better yet, the next day, after the heat of the competition wears off.”

“The important thing for me is that you accept the signs without overriding them. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. But at least we’re together. If everyone starts doing their own thing, we’re finished.

“Is that all?” he asked, still not admitting anything.

“Not quite,” I said. “I remember when I was playing, we thought the coaches and managers were just a bunch of old guys. We put more faith in the words and actions of our veteran teammates.

“I recall how you used to hang around Buddy Bell, Billy Doran, and Nolan Ryan. You told me one time that you just liked to keep your mouth shut and let it all soak in. Well, you picked some excellent guys for role models and teachers.

“Now, you are the role model. The reason I wanted you to come to the cage for the bunt drill yesterday is that I thought your presence would make the drill seem important. If you said something, like, ‘hey, this will get us some extra bags, guys. Let’s go,’ it would really help send a message. As it was, you came and worked on it on your own, which was probably unnecessary. What I wanted was your presence in front of the other guys.

“This is the whole point of this meeting. I need your help. I need you to be a model for the other guys. You make a perfect model in the physical sense. But in other areas, you could do better.

“Look, there are a lot of guys on this team that could do things better. There are guys who are not giving it their full effort, and you know who they are. But what good would it do me to talk to them? They don’t care about this as much as you do, or as much as I do.

“They may not have the capacity to change; you do. You can be a better teammate and team player. You can be a part of the solution, instead of being part of the problem. That’s all I have to say.”

Throughout this monolog, Bidge affected the look of surprise. He apparently feels he is innocent of most of the charges. But at least we didn’t get into a shouting match. If anything, my voice was muted and his reactions were, too.

We got up and he shook my hand and said, “Thank you.”

Until then, I wasn’t so sure my message was getting through.  Now I felt better about it.

The feeling didn’t last long.

 

When I got down to the field, our number-one draft pick, Lance Berkman from Rice University, was in the cage taking BP with the extra men. A throng of mediaphyles surrounded the cage.

I was feeling a little weary from the meeting with Bidge. No rest for me. The media was upon me like ducks on bread. I have to admit, their beaks have been blunt this year. They haven’t broken the skin yet.

After talking to writers and radio and TV reporters, I went to the outfield to talk to Berkman. He seemed a friendly fellow. His coach at Rice is an old friend, Wayne Graham. Wayne told me that Lance is a nice guy and a good worker. I found him to be friendly, not overly eager or awestruck, which is a good sign.

           

The game was perhaps our worst of the year. Donne Wall started by giving up two home runs in the first inning. The Pirates’ starter, John Lieber, was wild. He walked five batters, but we couldn’t get a key hit. We lost the game 8-3.

I inserted Biggio as a pinch-hitter about midway through the game. He went 0-2, and he was really pissed when he tapped lightly to first base after hitting a foul home run his second time up. I couldn’t draw any conclusion from that; he gets mad all the time.

 

After the game, Gerry and I told Ray Montgomery that we were going to put him on the disabled list. He didn’t object, which is a sign that his arm injury is bothering him a lot.

When the writers came in to talk about the game, Gerry started by announcing the Montgomery/Carr move. This turned the topic of the night away from our dismal performance, and toward our hope for the immediate future. It was probably more a stroke of luck than genius.

 

When I got home, Judy was up, and I told her all about the Biggio conference. I don’t always share my thoughts on baseball with her, though I probably should. She is a wise counselor. Perhaps she will get a chance to go jogging with Patty Biggio in Chicago. Perhaps she will be able to explain my feelings, and they will get back to Craig via the back door.

I had trouble getting sleepy. We packed, and Judy went to bed. My stomach was all in knots, and my neck and back were stiff and sore. If I had to do this very often, the job would lose some of its appeal.

I don’t think it will happen often, though, because Bidge is a special guy. He has been one of my favorites, which made the whole episode much more painful.