RMJ 196 August 30

Pitching	IP	H	R	ER	BB	SO	HR	ERA
Mike Hampton, L (11-9)	5	12	6	6	0	2	1	4.04
Jose Lima	3	2	3	3	0	2	2	5.07
Team Totals	8	14	9	9	0	4	3	10.12

SATURDAY, AUGUST 30 ● Chicago, vs White Sox

I talked with Gerry this morning. We have put catcher Randy Knorr on the roster and the disabled list. He will play the rest of the season and the playoffs with New Orleans, then join us for the final three weeks. This way we can chose between Randy and Tony Peña if we make it to the playoffs.

There is also a slim chance that we could get Jack Howell from the Angels. They need a starting pitcher, and we are offering Donne Wall. Donne could go to the Cubs for Dave Clark, too. Either way, it would be a fresh start for him. I wish him well if he goes, because he is a good pro and he won’t have a very good chance around here.

 

I didn’t get to go blading here this time, because I couldn’t find the replacement part that I need. Probably a good thing, because my knee is still sore, and it started raining about half-an-hour after I would have gone.

I find that I have little spare time in this job, and I don’t really mind. We left for the ballpark at 2:00, and by the time we got there, the rain had stopped. Unfortunately, it started again just before we were to take batting practice. With the tarp on the field, we had to hit in the cages, which left me with nothing to do but visit around and work a crossword puzzle.

The rain stopped before game time, and we eased into the game like a pair of slippers. Jason Beré was making his comeback from arm surgery, and he looked pretty bad in the first inning but got us out.

With Mike Hampton pitching, I felt good about our chances — momentarily. Mike gave up hits to the first four batters, and we were down 3-0 faster than you could say Nellie Fox.

I still thought we would get back into it, and when Derek hit a homer in the second, I was pretty sure we were just getting started.

Wrong again.

Hampton kept giving up hits, but he didn’t give up any more runs until the fifth, when Dave Martinez hit a homer. In the meantime, we were sleepwalking through the innings like zombies.

Guys were yelling, “C’mon, plenty of game left. Let’s go. C’mon, let’s get this guy.” But there was no evidence that anybody (including the guys who were yelling) was listening.

I admit it: I felt a little sluggish myself.

Here we are, shuffling through the game, knowing that one game could be the difference in thousands of dollars — perhaps more than $100,000 if we were to go all the way. I can’t explain it, but I can’t allow it, either.

Tomorrow is the last day of August. I must say something on the first day of September, whether or not we win tomorrow.

 

In the sixth inning, Jose Lima replaced Hamp. Mike had given up 12 hits, but it was still just 4-1. Ray Durham hit a line-drive homer, and that was that. Lima gave up another home run in the next inning. We went down with barely a whimper.

The next-to-last out of the game was made by James Mouton. I have been hoping against hope that he can find a way to unlock the treasure chest of tools he possesses and help us win, but the graphic on the scoreboard told it all. He was 2-for-17 pinch hitting. Now he is 2-for-18 with another strikeout.

At that moment, I thought, Experience or no experience, could Richard Hidalgo perform any worse? My answer, of course, was no.

On the way back to the hotel we passed Grant Park. I asked the driver if the old Conrad Hilton was still in business.

“Sure is,” he said. “That’s it right over there.”

I turned to Barry, Vern, and Cubby and said, “Back in 1968, at the Democratic National Convention, they had riots right here in this park. We came in from San Francisco and we were staying at the Conrad Hilton. The bus driver let us out on the back side, and we had to come in through the kitchen. The lobby was smoky and stinky from smoke bombs.

“When we got up to our room, we ordered some beer and opened the window. We sat there, overlooking the riot. There were sirens and megaphones, smoke and fire. There was screaming and fighting. We saw it all.”

I didn’t want to go to Vietnam any more than the next guy, and the ballclub didn’t want me there, either. They found a spot for me in the Texas National Guard, and I served six years. I had to go to a weekend meeting, once a month, and my pitching rotation had to be adjusted a few times. I was called to basic training in June of 1967 and missed half a season. I sacrificed a little, but others sacrificed a lot. I knew a few kids who died over there.

In 1969, we moved from the Hilton to the Executive House. One evening, after a day game at Wrigley, a few of us gathered around a television and watched the Eagle lunar module land on the moon and saw Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin bounding around up there. “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” A catchy phrase.

Looking back, it was as Charles Dickens said in A Tale of Two Cities: the best of times and the worst of times. I was on my way to 20 wins that year, and on my way to a divorce as well.

 

When I got back to the room, I called Gerry. He had been out to dinner and missed the last six innings of the game.  I filled him in and said that I wanted to revisit an old conversation.

“It’s about Mouton,” I said. “He struck out tonight and is now 2-for-18 pinch-hitting. He missed that fly ball last night. A tough play, sure. Derek’s ball, sure. But the consensus is that Chucky or Hidalgo would have had it. I know it’s a lot to ask of a rookie — the pennant race and then in the pressure of the playoffs — but I wonder: could Richard possibly perform worse under pressure than James?”

There was a moment of silence.

“You know how I feel about Mouton,” he said.

“That’s why I called,” I replied. “I love the guy. So does Mac. So do all the coaches and his teammates. But we’re trying to win this thing, and our ability is marginal. Richard had a great spring when the pressure was on. Maybe he can have a great fall. I just think we should consider it before midnight tomorrow. James can play for a week or so, and then be back to help us if he can. But if we make it to the playoffs, it’s Richard.”

“You don’t have to convince me of that,” he said.

“Well, we can sleep on it,” I said.

We talked some more, and by the time we finished, we didn’t have to sleep on it. I will tell James tomorrow when we get home.

 

I called Judy to see if Ryan had played in the second game of the tournament. He had played a little, but he had not pitched. His days with the Stars will end tomorrow or Monday, depending on whether or not they win.

It’s tough to hope your team loses, but that’s how he feels. I don’t want him to be a quitter, but I would like to see him get a chance to pitch.