RMJ 167 August 1

FRIDAY, AUGUST 1 ● Houston, vs Mets

I caught Ryan this morning. He is making good progress. He can throw his fastball for a strike most of the time, and his changeup and curve seem to be coming along.

One thing that he struggles with is alignment. Most pitchers step slightly across their bodies and throw their pitches crossfire; he is no exception. He isn’t real bad about it — not as extreme as Billy Wagner, for example — but he does step slightly toward the first-base line, and that will put a strain on his arm unless he is really slow on the back side of his delivery.

When we started to work on his pickoff move, I snapped to a thought I had on the last road trip: why not video his move from the baserunner’s viewpoint?

I went looking for the video camera. Our video library consists of two tapes that we shot when we bought the camera five years ago.

I’ve always enjoyed shooting stills, and I was hoping that Judy would become our video-camera operator and archivist. It hasn’t worked out quite that way; I had to brush the dust off the case before I opened it. Everything was still there, but the batteries were dead. We hooked it up with an extension cord, but we still couldn’t reach the shooting position.

“Why don’t you just shoot the dogs, to see if it works?” I said. “We can get better prepared next time.”

I am hopeful that the video will help Ryan. I wish I could have looked at tape when I was pitching, but few of our games were televised before 1979. I have only one hand-held clip of the last pitch of my no-hitter, and one partial Mets telecast from 1969. Lindsey Nelson is the announcer. I pitched a three-hitter and struck out 11 batters. I guess if you are going to have a cameo career on video, it may as well be a good one!

 

This series with the Mets is worrisome. We could easily let down against this powerful team. They have been almost as hot as us, and I believe they are a better team than the Cardinals.

I decided that this would be the day I rested Bagwell, and I was really hoping that we could win the game without using him, but it became obvious early that we would have trouble scoring off Dave Mlicki. He was throwing 94 MPH bullets to both corners, and he had a hammer of a curve ball.

I don’t know why the Mets haven’t pitched this guy more; he has Darryl-Kile-type stuff. Maybe he has struggled with control, but so has D.K.

Mlicki didn’t struggle in this game; all we got off him in seven innings was a measly sacrifice fly. The Big Chief was doing just as well: he went to the mound in the eighth inning tied at 1.

After a leadoff single and a bunt, Bobby Valentine pinch-hit for Mlicki with Luis Lopez. I went to the mound to give Ramón a pat on the back and review how we were going to pitch to Lopez. I went back, and Garcia registered his tenth strikeout — a career best.

We still needed one more out, however, and the batter was Lance Johnson, who led the league in hits last year. I went out and brought Wagner into the game. I knew they had to go to the bullpen, and I was hoping we could score in the next two innings. I was also hoping that Wagner would return to form.

This time, I didn’t call the right number; Johnson got a hit, and we were down 2-1.

 

Our dugout rose in a frenzy when Biggio hit a two-run homer in the bottom of the eighth. I put Bagwell into the game for defense, and all we needed were three outs from Billy.

We didn’t get them. Billy was wild again.

He got ahead of a few batters, but he couldn’t put them away. They got three hits, two walks, and two runs. Mike Magnante did a great escape job to keep it from getting worse, though we now trailed 4-3.

In the bottom of the ninth, Bagwell led off against John Franco. He won a tough battle by walking. We bunted him up to second, and he scored on a throwing error. For the moment, it seemed like we were still favored by fate: 4-4.

Not for long. José Lima walked two batters and failed to field a bunt. José Cabrera couldn’t stem the tide. We lost the game 8-5.

 

I answered the postgame questions like it was just one of those things, and that we have to rebound tomorrow against a tough team. All the right stuff.

What I was really feeling was different. It was the first day of August. The dog days had begun. I had to bring Bagwell into the game in a noncritical moment. My pitching changes didn’t work. I felt mentally sluggish during the game.

If anyone had a letdown, it was me.

Two months to go. No time to relax. I have to bear down. With our budget crunch, this chance may not come along again for a while.

We are drawing well, by traditional standards; we’ll probably get two-million fans if we stay on top. But two million fans will scarcely buy enough red ink to drown Drayton’s sorrow.

 

I have been eating ice cream instead of yogurt as I read myself to sleep on this homestand. Thank goodness I’m getting my weight back up to about 20 pounds over. I wouldn’t want to give the impression that I’m letting the pressure take my appetite.

Even though it is.