RMJ 149 July 14

MONDAY, JULY 14 ● Chicago, vs Cubs

My sleep was fitful, but when I finally arose, I had been down ten hours. I felt pretty good, and a look at the standings showed that we are still only a game out of first place, trailing a rag-tag team of Pirates rookies. I thought about the Bucs and smiled.

They can’t keep it up. They just can’t.

We must overcome the Pirates eventually; it’s the Cardinals and the Reds I’m worried about. The Cubs could get into it, too. Truth is, this division is up for grabs — and everyone seems clad in straitjackets.

Something has to give. Someone has to break loose.

Vern called after lunch and asked if I wanted to walk the five miles to the park.

“Sure,” I said. “What time are you leaving?”

“Two o’clock,” he said.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

It started raining, so we took a cab.

We finished our pitcher interviews with Mike Hampton. He was great. Of course, it’s easier to be magnanimous after you have pitched a shutout.

But since I am new to this business, I am flattered by compliments.

Mike said that the talk we had with him in Philadelphia helped him get going again.  Admitting that he had lost confidence, and issuing a call for help, relieved a heavy burden.

“Once I admitted I couldn’t handle it by myself, and opened myself to your advice, I started getting better,” he said.  

I told him about his sharp tongue, and I asked him to take it easy on guys who were struggling. This seemed to hit a chord too. He seemed flattered by the suggestion that he could be a team leader.

 

The wind was blowing left-to-right at 17 MPH as we took the field. When I pitched here on a day like this, I would stay in the clubhouse during batting practice; I didn’t want to see the home runs pelting the bleachers and flying over them to the streets beyond. Shane didn’t use this tactic. In fact, he hit a few out himself.

His pitching was somewhat disappointing. He lacked the velocity to make his curve and splitter effective. But he battled like crazy, holding them scoreless for three innings as we built a two-run lead on a homer by Bagwell.

In the fourth, the Cubs chased Shane on a walk, a single, and two doubles. José Lima came in to pitch, and I double-switched to preserve our bullpen. The double-switch worked well, but Lima did not: he promptly gave up two singles and a double. By the time he got back to the dugout, it was 5-2 Cubs.

The second time Bagwell came up, Frank Castillo hit him with a pitch. Then he dusted Sean Berry. In the fifth, with Biggio running on a hit-and-run, Castillo threw one right as Ausmus’ head. Ausmus ducked, but Biggio was thrown out.

When Bidge got back to the dugout, he started screaming at Castillo. I didn’t think he was trying to hit our batters; I think he was trying to come inside, and with the wind blowing out, he was afraid to miss out over the plate.

He was more willing to hit our batters than to give them pitches to hit. I thought it would be a good idea to let him see this approach from the batter’s perspective.

Unfortunately, Lima didn’t pitch well enough to pull it off. When Castillo came up, there were men on first and third, and you can’t have runners on the corners, then throw at the next guy. So Lima struck him out. The next inning, he threw one pitch in front of Sammy Sosa’s belt buckle and one behind his head. Sosa started for the mound, but he restrained himself. Lima struck him out, and the battle-within-the-war was over. 

Little did we know what a war it would be.

They got a run in the fifth, and we got it back on a homer by Sean Berry in the sixth.

In the seventh, I was thinking about hitting for Ausmus with the bases loaded, but I decided not to. It was the best move I’ve never made: Ausmus connected for a grand slam.  

We now had a 7-6 lead, and there was tumult in our dugout. Lima didn’t pitch well, but he did defend our honor. Ausmus paid him back with the home run. If we could hold the lead, Lima would get the win.

Blas Minor came in a gave up a run in the seventh. He did not pitch poorly, but he had rotten luck: a couple of bleeders and a blooper. I double-switched, with Mike Magnante pitching and Spiers taking over at third. Mike got out of the inning with a tie.

When I put Spiers into the game, I knew he would bat second in the eighth inning. His elbow was sore, and he couldn’t swing, but he could throw.

“When you come up,” I said, “just bunt.”

“I know,” he said. “I already thought of that.”      

Well, he came up with one out, and it looked like he was trying to get a walk. The count went to 2-2, and he swung. I guess it didn’t hurt too much, because he hit it right on the screws, sending a hot line drive into the right-field corner for a double.

But we didn’t score, and neither did they.

In the ninth, Howard hit for Magnante and lined into a double play with runners at first and third. I thought that might be the ballgame, as I did not want to use Wagner in a tie game.  But Tom Martin held the line.

It was still tied when I hit for Martin in the twelfth. Spiers came up swinging again; it is amazing what a little adrenaline will do.

We did not score, and now I had to bring in Wagner. Springer was our only other relief pitcher, and he pitched two innings yesterday, coming off a disabling back injury. We simply could not use him.

Wagner had problems at Wrigley last time. This time, he walked Mark Grace for openers. When Gutierrez made an error, I figured we were cooked. Wagner was pretty wild, and he didn’t seem to be throwing as hard as usual.

Rey Sanchez came in to run for Grace. If we survived, they would be without their best hitter. Jim Riggleman called for a bunt, and Bagwell made one of the best plays I have ever seen.

He charged in, dove for the short popup, and caught it as he landed on the third-base line. He immediately bounced up and threw to second for a double play. Then he bent over, and I thought, Oh, no! he’s hurt. Dave Labossiere went out to check on him. Luckily, he had just knocked the wind out of himself.

Wagner got the last out, and we moved on.

The 13th inning was uneventful, and we failed to score in the 14th.                         

Now I had to decide if I would use Wagner for a third inning. If I did, I couldn’t use him for two more days. I sent him back out there, and the Cubs got runners on first and second with one out. Sanchez broke from second while Wagner was looking in for a sign. Billy had the presence of mind to step off and throw to third for the second out. Then he got the third.

Tony Eusebio hit for Wagner in the 15^th, and I had a decision to make. Biggio’s legs were cramping, and if I didn’t leave Tony in the game and Brad got hurt, I would have no catcher except Bidge. If I put Tony behind the plate, I could use Brad at third and move Billy to second.

“Tell me the truth, Bidge,” I said. “If you are hurting, I have to leave Tony in the game. If he doesn’t stay in, you might have to catch.

“I’ll catch,” he said.

Tony grounded out, then Spiers lined to left as Glanville tried to make a diving catch. It was another mental mistake by the Cubs, and we made them pay again. Spiers went all the way to third, and Ricky sliced a grounder through a drawn in-infield and we had an 8-7 lead.

Biggio tapped weakly to third, and Kevin Orie tried for the force and threw the ball away. Gutierrez moved up to third.

This is where it really got crazy:

Ausmus hit a sinking fly ball to center. Brian McRae seemed to short-hop the ball, and Ricky tagged up and scored. Biggio rounded second and saw third base uncovered, so he kept coming as Sanchez raced for the bag. The throw from Scott Servais was high, and Bidge slid in under the tag.

Third-base umpire Gerry Crawford was in the outfield calling the fly ball, and Larry Vanover, the second-base umpire, had inside position. He raced to third behind Bidge. but was still thirty feet behind the play.

He called Bidge out, and Cubby and Bidge both protested. I came running out of the dugout and told Vanover that he was in no position to make the call.

“I know,” he said. “But I called it the best I could.”

“Ask for help,” I said. “Eddie had a better angle.”

“I called it, and it stands,” he told me.

I went to Ed Montague and asked him to help.

“I had the play at the plate,” he said. “I didn’t see it.”

I went back to the dugout, thinking we had two runs in and a runner on first. Then I saw the Cubs leaving the field.

I went back out to and learned that Gerry Crawford had ruled a catch on Ausmus’ fly ball.

“What the hell is going on out here?” I asked. When I found out, I ran over to Crawford.

“How can you call that play?” I asked. “You’re the third-base umpire.”

“Larry had inside position,” he said. “I got out there and called it the way I saw it.”

I made sure we still had two runs, and went back to the dugout, hoping that Springer could hold the lead without hurting himself. He did, and we won the war.

It took 5 hours and 19 minutes.

 

When I got back to the locker room, it was 12:30. The first guy I saw was Tim Bogar.

“They missed everything,” he said. “McRae didn’t catch the ball. Biggio was safe at third. And Ricky didn’t tag up. They missed all three calls. The only one they got right, got overruled.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What got overruled?”

“Montague was running down the line, and he called Bidge safe,” Bogey said. “Then Vanover called him out. Eddie turned back to home plate.”

“Unbelievable,” I said. “He told me he didn’t see the play.”

“He saw it, all right,” Bogey said.    

I was able to smile — only because we won. With a day game tomorrow, we had little time to celebrate. It was hard to even fault the umpires. Five hours in a pressure cooker is way too much.

 

Gerry came in after the reporters left, and he asked if we needed bullpen help for tomorrow’s game. I called Vern in, and he said we could use the help, even though Kile was pitching.

“I guess we could call Cabrera up and get him here tomorrow,” he said. This would entail cutting Minor tonight — or this morning, to be more accurate. “Let’s do it after we get back to the hotel,” Gerry said.

When we got back, Gerry called Matt in Louisville. The team was not at the hotel he had listed, so he called Jim Duquette, our farm director.

“Sorry to wake you up,” he said. “But we went 15 innings and we need to call up Cabrera for tomorrow’s — I mean, today’s — game.”

He got the number and called Matt.

“Sorry to wake you up, but we need Cabrera,” he said.

“I know,” Matt said. “I was watching the game.”

Arrangements were made, and Gerry called Blas.

This was really going to be tough. Blas had been unlucky in the game. He had not pitched poorly. When he got the news at 2:15 a.m., he was stunned.

Who could blame him? This guy has been up-and-down between AAA and the big leagues for the last three years.