RMJ 192 August 26

TUESDAY, AUGUST 26 ● Atlanta, vs Braves

The telephone jarred me awake at 9:00. It was Alyson from our PR office. She wanted to know if I could go on a sports-talk show in Birmingham, Alabama.

“Not right now,” I said. “I’m asleep.”

I got up and went down for coffee and the paper, and I returned to regale the Astros fans in Alabama. Trouble is, I only know of one Astros fan in Alabama, and he is here in Atlanta for the series.

It is sort of amusing the way these radio interviews go.

It has been 20 years now since I pitched. Realizing this, the host or hosts always start by reviewing my playing career. I suppose they want to let their younger listeners know that I am credible.

After the introductions come the topical questions about the team and the race. Then comes the questions I most dread:

What was the toughest thing about coming down from the booth to manage?

What surprised you the most?

There are only so many ways I can answer these questions, and I am becoming nauseated with my own replies.

Another thing I find amusing is that the producers of the shows usually give me the hosts’ names. In this case, I was talking to Matt and Scott. How am I supposed to know which voice goes with which name?  Can you picture it?

“That’s right, Matt. Bagwell is in a slump now.”

“This isn’t Matt; it’s Scott.”

Sorry, Scott; you sound like a Matt to me, and Matt sounds like a Scott.

 

After the interview, I went over to International Records to see my friends Howard and Judy Cohen. They were both in the shop, which is unusual. Most of the time, one of them is vacationing while the other takes care of the business.

Howard loves Europe and the Mediterranean; Judy goes where the birds are. Howard was telling me about his trip to Sicily, and at one point, when Judy was nearby, I asked, “Did you see any good birds while you were there?”

“He wouldn’t know a bird from a butterfly,” she replied. “Besides, there aren’t many birds in Italy, or France for that matter. The birds know better than to land in those countries — and the birding maps prove it.

“For centuries, the French and the Italians have been shooting any and all birds, and eating them. In fact, if you are over there and you see an odd-shaped piece of meat on your plate, don’t eat it. It’s probably a sparrow.”

 

When I got back to the room, I had a message from Vern. He was ready to go to the park, and it was only 1:30.

“Vern,” I said. “The game is at 7:40. What are we going to do over there for all that time?”

We compromised and left at 2:30. Even that was too early, because we just saw the Braves in Houston and we don’t have to do much to prepare for this series.

I watched Billy Wagner throw in the bullpen. He looked fine.

I’m not as worried about Billy as everyone seems to be. Maybe it’s because I don’t expect him to be able to save the game every time. He is still an inexperienced pitcher, with below-average control. In my opinion, it will be two or three more years before he reaches his potential and becomes almost perfectly reliable.

After a little work on the treadmill, I called in the coaches to talk about the postseason roster. It seems that they all endorse trading José Lima for Dave Clark. They also think it is important for Eusebio to try to keep going, catching D.K. each time through the rotation for as long as his knee will let him.

One thing that offers some intriguing possibilities is bringing Oscar Henriquez up in time for him to qualify for the postseason. It seems he is throwing a lot better. A few days ago, he hit 100 MPH on the radar gun. And his curve, always a good breaker, is breaking into the strike zone more often.

I called Gerry to report on our meeting, and he was less than enthusiastic. He feels that Oscar is still way too immature.

“He sits in his locker and cries if he blows a save,” he said.

I don’t really care if he cries, if he can throw 100 MPH and get it over the plate. But I know Gerry prefers to bring the young kids along slowly.

I also know that Bill likes to use the sacrifice bunt more than I do. That’s OK with me. I subscribe to Phil Wrigley’s philosophy: “If two people in business always agree, one of them is unnecessary.”

The composition of the team is Gerry’s direct responsibility, and he often says that our viewpoint is limited by the fact that we are in the trenches.  Still, our perspective is important, because our direct responsibility is to use the players at our disposal in such a way as to maximize our chances of victory.

If we don’t have confidence in a player, we are not apt to use him. So we eventually have to come to some kind of meeting-of-the-minds. Otherwise, we will be operating with players that we are afraid to use.

 

We dug ourselves a deep hole in the third inning tonight, as Shane Reynolds was hit with a five-spot.

In the top of the second inning, Brad looped a single to right, with Russ Johnson on first. Russ tried for third and beat the throw, but he overslid the bag. He reached back to touch it, and Chipper Jones tagged him, sweeping his hand off the base. At least, that’s how I saw it. Third-base umpire Steve Rippley called him out, and I argued. From what I hear, the replay was inconclusive.

Jim Gund is here in Atlanta to take pictures for the SI piece. He caught me in the act of arguing, which is hard to do; I’ve only been out on the field for five or six rhubarbs all year.

Shane gave up another run in the fourth, and it looked like curtains. But the bullpen held fast, and we started pecking away.

We got two runs in the sixth, two more in the seventh and two more in the eighth on a dramatic home run by Biggio.

Thomas Howard led off the top of the tenth with a double off submariner Brad Clontz. Biggio bunted for a hit and moved to second on a passed ball. Runners at second and third, with nobody out — and Wagner ready in the bullpen. After battling for three and a half hours, we were finally in the driver’s seat.

So I thought.

The Braves brought their infield in, and Derek chipped a low pitch to third, right after Tommy McCraw told him to make the pitcher get the ball up.

With one out, the Braves walked Bagwell. The pitcher was due, and I had to pinch-hit with my last player, Tony Peña. At forty years old, Tony has probably seen more submarine pitchers than any other player on our team. But at forty, he is only hitting .160 or so. Clontz struck him out. At least he didn’t hit into a double play.

With two outs, Bill Spiers stepped in. He has been one of our best clutch hitters all year, and his lefthanded stroke is made for hitting guys like Clontz.

Not this time. Spiers struck out.

Wagner held the line in the bottom of the frame. We failed again in the 11th. Billy got two quick strikeouts, and then Javy Lopez hit his first pitch over the centerfield fence for a dramatic game-winning home run. It was like a kick in the gut.

“Show me a hero, and I’ll write you a tragedy,” F. Scott Fitzgerald once said. It was an heroic story, to be sure. And a tragic climax.

I stood at the dugout railing, stunned. No one in our dugout moved for the better part of a minute. The Braves came out of their dugout and greeted Lopez, but they were not giddy, not ecstatic. They were sort of matter-of-fact, to be truthful.

I hope one day we will expect success like they do, and take it in stride.