RMJ 135 June 30

MONDAY, JUNE 30 ● Houston, vs Cleveland

This is a day I have been dreading for a week. It’s the day we release Pat Listach.

Now it’s double-dreaded, because Julia is moving out of the house. She is 20 years old, and she should be able to take care of herself, but I worry about her. She has tried this several times without success. She tends to lose interest in work, and she has trouble concentrating in school. I think she is a little more mature now, but I still worry about her being on her own.

Before the game, I addressed the team:

We have just finished a stretch of schedule that should have been kind to us, but we failed to take advantage. Now we face some tougher teams: the Indians and the Reds.

I know the All-Star break is coming up, and many of you are anxious to get a couple of days off. But we cannot afford to let down. Instead, we will have to pick up the pace to hold our position.

I know from my playing days that you can subconsciously let down in anticipation of the break. If we do this, everything we have battled for in the first half will be gone.

I would like to challenge each of you to treat this week as if it were the last week of the season, and we were in the pennant race. We need to focus on every game — every inning, every out, every pitch. We cannot afford to play sloppy baseball, to miss signs, miss the cutoff man. We can’t afford to make too many errors or too many bad pitches. We cannot afford baserunning mistakes, mental mistakes. We must play like we did in April if we expect to beat these two teams.

I don’t know about you guys, but I won’t enjoy the break if we falter this week. In seven days, we can let out guard down for a few days and gather energy for the second half. Give everything you’ve got in these seven games, and we’ll be in good shape. We can beat these teams. But we’ll have to play better than we did in Chicago.

When we prepare to play a team we haven’t seen lately, we break into groups. Bill and Cubby go over the defensive alignment for each hitter, then Mac goes over the opposing pitchers, informing the players as to which pitches they throw and how they like to work a hitter. The pitchers and catchers meet in my office with Vern.

I spent a little time in each meeting, and I witnessed what I thought was renewed concentration. Maybe the players bought my message.

 

The game started out just the way I hoped it would. D.K. was right on his game. He mowed the Indians down with ease in the early innings.

Meanwhile, Indians ace Charles Nagy didn’t have good stuff. His fastball was in the 84-86 MPH range, and we were getting good swings at him. We scored three in the second inning on two walks, two hits, and a squeeze bunt by Kile.

The squeeze was a beauty. I glanced over at Drayton, and he gave me the thumbs-up sign.

The only sore spot in this rally came when Derek failed to score from second on a hit by Eusebio. It was a soft line drive into right-center, and no outfielder had even a remote chance of catching it on the fly. But Derek didn’t know where the outfielders were playing, and he had to turn around and survey the situation before running. His delayed start made the squeeze play possible, but it should not have been necessary.

There are some Little Leaguers who know how to play baseball better than Derek Bell. Knowing where the fielders are playing is a fundamental part of baserunning. But Derek is usually too busy talking to the infielders to notice where the outfielders are playing. Fact is, he is usually too busy talking to even get a sign.

I’ve had about as much of his shit as I can stand. 

The first time Nagy came up, he struck out on three pitches and looked feeble doing it. The next time, he led off the sixth, and D.K. was careless. He threw the first ball in there, and Nagy hit it up the middle for a single. Kile retired the next two batters, and with power-hitting lefty Jim Thome at the plate, we decided to play behind the runner.

Thome had a good at-bat. He kept fouling pitches off, working the count. Nagy kept creeping farther off the bag and he finally broke for second, stealing without a play. Thome hit the next pitch up the middle, and the Tribe broke the ice.

This was the type of breakdown I was talking about in my pregame speech.

It was Bagwell’s fault for not jockeying Nagy back to the bag. It was Kile’s fault for not making Nagy stop. But mostly, it was my fault and Cubby’s fault for not picking up on it and warning D.K. and Baggy.

This play turned the momentum of the game. 

Nagy started throwing better, and D.K. inexplicably lost velocity. Normally he throws just as hard or harder at the end of a game than he does in the beginning. But he was weakened by a cold on this night, and in the seventh the Indians connected for a couple of solo homers to tie the score.

We got runners at first and second with no outs in the bottom of the seventh. Kile was due up, and I was not going to send him back to the mound, but because it was a bunt situation and he is one of our best bunters, I decided to let him stay in to move the runners.

The Indians used a variety of bunt defenses to keep him off balance, and Nagy pitched tough. Kile failed to get the bunt down.

Biggio walked, bringing Carr to the plate with the bases loaded and one out. Bill and I discussed our options. I was inclined to pinch-hit with Thomas Howard, hoping to get Nagy out of the game. It would be a two-player move, as the Indians had lefty Al Morman, whom we traded to Cleveland in May, in the bullpen. If Al came in to face Howard, I would pinch-hit with James Mouton; that was the matchup I really wanted. But I’ll never know if Indians manager Hargrove would have made the pitching change. Bill recommended leaving Carr in there.

“He hasn’t struck out yet, and he will be tough to double,” he said. “That way you’re almost sure Bagwell will come to bat.”

This logic was appealing, but I was still tempted to make a move. In the end I did not.

Carr struck out, and Bagwell went out on a smash to third.    

After the inning, Bill could tell I was frustrated.

“You have to trust your feelings in a case like that,” he said. “Don’t worry about what I say or what I will think. I’m just here to help. You have to do what you think is best.”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, but it was reassuring to hear him say it. Bill has strong feelings, but very little ego. He has been the perfect man for the job of breaking in a rookie manager.

 

John Hudek opened the eighth by serving up a double to Marquis Grissom. He got the next batter, but then he walked Thome and Manny Ramirez. After jumping ahead in the count to Matt Williams, Hudek threw a wild pitch, allowing the lead run to score.

Hudie struck out Williams. I brought Tom Martin in to pitch to lefty Brian Giles. Giles lined out.

We weren’t dead yet. Gonzo was hit by a Morman pitch leading off the eighth. The Indians brought José Mesa into the game, and I pinch-ran with Mouton. Mesa threw the ball away trying to pick James off first, and he made it all the way to third. Bell struck out, but Bill Spiers delivered a tying hit.

In the ninth, Martin got behind Pat Borders and then gave up a single. Tony Fernandez dropped a sacrifice bunt. It was 2-2 to pinch-hitter Kevin Seitzer when Martin missed a sign from Ausmus. Brad called for a curve; Tom threw a changeup. Seitzer swung, and the ball disappeared over the left-field fence. We lost 6-4, after making exactly the kind of mistakes I had talked about before the game.

It was a real body blow, especially in light of other interleague games. Every team in our division won. We are now tied for first place with the Cardinals. The Pirates are only a game back, and the Reds are charging hard.

 

Gerry sent word that he would be down to talk to Listach in half an hour. Bill told Pat to stick around. I finished with the writers and then waited for what seemed an eternity. Pat kept sticking his head into my office, and I told him we’d have to wait for Gerry.

Finally, Gerry appeared, and Pat came in and closed the door.

“This isn’t easy for us,” Gerry said, “but we’re going to cut you loose. I’m sorry it didn’t work out better, but we were expecting an offensive player with speed and range in the field. We just don’t see it, and we have to move on. I wish you well.’

There was a strained silence, and it looked to me as if Pat might cry.

“After we started playing Ricky,” I said, “I thought I could use you as a utility player and get you some starts. But it has been tough to do. You were generally third or fourth off the bench to pinch-hit, and Mouton was ahead of you as a pinch-runner. I think you can still play, and I’m pretty sure someone is going to pick you up, but I just didn’t see it working out here.

“I appreciate the effort you game me. You are a good guy in the clubhouse, and the other players like and respect you. But I just can’t see anything good for you or for us with you sitting on the bench.”

Pat didn’t say a thing. He just sat there, looking sad. Gerry told him that he had tried to work a trade, and that there was mild interest from several teams.

“I just couldn’t get them to come up with any players we were interested in. I feel certain you will be back on the field for someone soon.”

I’ll say one thing for Pat Listach: he is a gentleman. He didn’t complain. He simply got up, said, “Thanks for the opportunity,” and left the room.