RMJ 141 July 6

SUNDAY, JULY 6 ● Houston, vs Cincinnati

The cigar and the dogs kept me up until 1:30. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil kept me going until 2:00.

When I got up at 9:00, I was a little groggy, as usual. I made a pot of coffee and started feeding the animals. I got the newspaper and snuggled up to the counter with the coffee.

Most of my habits are dark. Judy was a dark lady before her hair turned silver. I like black coffee, red wine, Maduro cigars.

I fooled around for an hour or so, thinking how nice it was to go to the park a little later, and then headed for the Dome. We have a Kangaroo Court meeting at 11:00. I’m not sure if the staff is invited.

I arrived at 10:30, and Vern told me that Shane had thrown the ball well.

“A little off on control, and not especially fast, but it was fine. He’s ready for another bullpen, and a real game.”  

I went back and put the undergarments of my uniform on, and started filling out the lineup card.

Gerry came in and asked, “How did Shane do?”

I was frozen for a moment. I didn’t know if Gerry knew that I didn’t get here in time to watch Shane pitch. I should have been there; it just slipped my mind. 

“I didn’t see him, but Vern says he threw OK. Not full speed, but close: 87 MPH. Not great command, but not real bad, either. He needs some work, and we need to have him back.”

“I just hope we aren’t rushing him,” Gerry said.

I sensed my failure to attend the Shane workout was a strike against me with Gerry.  

“I don’t suppose there’s any way to know if we’re doing the right thing,” he continued. We’re at a fork in the road.”

“That’s exactly what Dr. Bryan told me,” I said. “He said: “On the one side there is caution, on the other there is need. He doesn’t report any pain, but he does have swelling. There is some risk to the aggressive route. But if the swelling doesn’t get worse, it will likely get better.”

This is my call — our call. I am not worried about him pitching with a sore knee. I don’t want to reinjure his knee by coming back too soon. I have never been on the “doctor side” of this situation.

As a player, I didn’t mind the risk of injury. I pitched a number of times when I was hurting, but I may have lasted a few more years if I had missed a start here and there.

Nobody really knows for sure what an athlete can do when playing hurt. Many have done great things; others have suffered.

“Only thing I know,” I told Gerry, “is that he wants to pitch on Monday in Chicago — Tommy Greene’s turn.”

Gerry sort of cringed at the thought of Shane pitching on short rest. He likes to be careful with young pitchers’ arms. But Shane is our ace.  

Gerry wants badly to win. His competitive side says, Yes, turn him loose on the Cubs. His background in player development tells his brain, Don’t jump at the bait. It’s a long season. Get this guy ready to pitch. Don’t rush him.

Vern is in-between. He thinks Shane can do it, but his college training schedule tells him we are rushing the process.

I say, “Hell, he’s our ace, he’s not just some college pitcher. We’re paying him the kind of money that demands innings and wins. The only way for him to start winning is to start pitching.”

This is a nice bluster move — one where I hope to trump my no-show error with a brilliant arabesque. I think it may have smoothed things over, like a little shaving cream to keep your glove warm overnight.

 

I learned that we were invited to the Kangaroo Court, but we neglected to ask if we were invited, so we were fined. I guess Ausmus is the judge, but he’s not really a nutty character. I feel better about our chances to win the division than I do about our chances of having a good kangaroo court.

I feel even better about our chances now that we have accomplished the ultimate arabesque — in which one comes spinning from behind to finish in front.

Hampton was so excited about the added responsibility of working on the fourth day that he was super strong. He couldn’t contain himself in the bullpen, and it carried on to the mound.

The Reds scored four runs in the first, despite Mike’s darting pitches. They kept getting ahead in the count, and they hit every mistake he made. It was one of those innings you can’t explain. He made mostly good pitches, with mostly good stuff, and still got banged with a four-spot.

The way we’ve been hitting, that could have been it. But it wasn’t.

Bagwell hit a solo home run in the first inning, and a three-run shot in the third. Gonzo hooked one around the right field foul pole, and we had the lead — momentarily.

The Reds got a solo homer from Deion Sanders. It remained tied until the ninth.

I brought in Wagner, and he got them out 1-2-3. When Billy came back into the dugout, he reported that his arm felt a little tired. Vern and I pursued that line of discussion until we decided that if we failed to score, Billy would face Willie Greene and then make his exit, no matter what.

Thinking in advance is important. As it was, I had to think of other things almost immediately.

With one out, I used Derek Bell to pinch-hit for Bobby Abreu with a lefthander, Mike Remlinger, on the mound. Bell came through with an infield hit, and immediately called for the medics. It was a hamstring scare. Dave Labossiere was in the clubhouse, so assistant trainer Rex Jones had to do the diagnosis.

“I think he’ll be fine now that everyone knows he is playing hurt,” he said.

 Ausmus followed with a single down the right-field line that sent Bell to third. Now I was in an agitated state, and I completely forgot about Wagner: I need a pinch-hitter for Bogey now. I told Bill to get Tony Eusebio. Then I realized that Tony was the most likely guy to hit into a double play.

“No, not Tony,” I said, as I followed Bill down the bench. He turned around. “He might hit into a double play,” I said. “Maybe Sean or Ricky would be better with their speed. Sean is a pretty good bunter. We could squeeze.”

But why was I worrying about what could go wrong? I should be concerned with what could go right.  

They had a righthander named Sean Sullivan on the mound. He is a sidearm pitcher who can make the ball ride — kind of like a young Stan Belinda. I had a feeling Tony would hit a fly ball to right, and we would win with a sacrifice fly. Instead, he ripped a low fastball up the middle on the ground for a base hit. Bell scored, and we won 6-5.

“Make sure they touch all the bases,” I yelled, still trying to make up for not watching Shane.

 

It was nice to have dinner at home.  Judy fixed ravioli, southwestern style.

After dinner, I called Mom. I was upbeat, and she was too — at first. Then I started asking about Laura and the kids, and about Rick and Susan. She told me that Ashley had been staying with her.

“It can’t be much fun for a little kid, but she’s been great.’ she said. “Most of the time, she just tags along or plays by herself. Whenever I get teary-eyed she comes over and says, ‘that’s all right, Grandma.’”

The recollection of this makes her teary-eyed, and the next thing you know, I’m sorrowful too.

Baseball is so immediate – so vivid — with its day-to-day plot changes. It takes me away from the family. I lose track of what Judy and Ryan are doing sometimes. Mom is farther away. But she needs more attention from me, now that Rick and Susan aren’t staying with her anymore.

To change the subject, I brought up the idea of a Christmastime cruise. Mom likes to cruise. I’ve never been on a cruise, and I don’t think I would like it, though everyone assures me that I will love it.

Perhaps we’ll go. The family Christmas in Woodland Hills is definitely out. It would be way too thick with nostalgia in that house.