RMJ 203 September 6
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6 ● San Francisco, vs Giants
I might have set a personal record for complimentary tickets today: eight for Gary Allegre, three for Shelly Little, and three for Darryl Brock. This is nowhere near the league record, or even the team record. Some guys on our club have left as many as 30 or 40. I suppose the league mark surpasses ours, as is most often the case.
My practice has always been to draw the line at the personal-friend level. Acquaintances and friends-of-friends can pay, as far as I am concerned.
At home, I try to scatter the freebies through the homestand. It usually works out that everyone wants to come to the Saturday game, when we are giving caps away. These games are sellout attractions, and I try to stay at my allotment of two (for friends) and four (for family) when I know we are expecting a large crowd.
Some guys love to give tickets away; they solicit the opportunity. On the road they offer free passes to the bellman, the bartender, the taxi driver, the lady in the gift shop — everyone. I guess they like to play the role of the big shot. I wonder if they even realize that their salary is paid by people who buy tickets.
We faced another lefthanded challenge today, and once again, we failed the test.
Wilson Alvarez was a top pitcher in the American League, but he was having a subpar season when the Giants traded for him. My guess is that they got more than they expected in Hernandez, and less in Alvarez.
Our batters seemed mystified today. From the dugout, it appeared that he was throwing mostly fastballs, and that they were not all that fast or that well-placed. Bagwell finally touched him for a two-run homer in the fifth, to give us a 2-1 lead.
Meanwhile, Chris Holt was pitching the game of his life. If he hadn’t erred on a pickoff throw, he would have had a two-hit shoutout going into the eighth.
| Pitching | IP | H | R | ER | BB | SO | HR | ERA |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Chris Holt | 7 | 3 | 2 | 1 | 4 | 4 | 0 | 3.45 |
Wagner opened with a wild pitch. Then he walked Darryl Hamilton and gave up a hit on a hanging curve. He was totally out of rhythm.
Rod Beck
I went for Magnante to pitch to Barry Bonds. Bonds grounded weakly to first, and Bagwell tried for the force at second. His throw was wide, and the Giants were off to the races. They scored four runs — two of them unearned.
Rod Beck came in to close. We got three hits to make it 5-2, and Dusty brought Hernandez in for Beck: a provocative move. The big righthander struck out Bagwell and Bell to end the game.
I was so upset about the walks and the errors that I didn’t think about Dusty’s dilemma until later. I was at wits’ end over Wagner and our defense in general. We had two earned runs, and they had two. Our walks and errors, and a couple of great plays on their side, were the difference in the game.
I met Darryl Brock and his friends Steve and Pete outside the clubhouse. I had made a date for dinner with them, and I didn’t really feel like going. But I have learned that it is better to resume normal activities than to stew in your own broth. We went to John’s Grill, where Dashiell Hammett reportedly wrote The Maltese Falcon. They quizzed me a bit about managing, and I asked them a few questions about writing and publishing.
Darryl’s book If I Never Get Back is one of my favorites. Pete is going to send me one of his novels: The Last Unicorn. They both encouraged me to publish this journal, but I am still undecided.
Darryl’s book is under consideration by a movie producer. His second book, which he considers just as good if not better than the first, is still unpublished. The problem as he sees it is that publishers are looking for a marketing edge when they make a book deal. A serious work of fiction by a little-known writer may not get the publishers’ attention.
Because of my high profile, my work may be what they are looking for. I could visit bookstores and do signings while we are on the road — but signing books has no appeal for me.
I’m sure Darryl’s second book is a more-thoughtful and better-rendered piece of work than this journal. But who the hell ever heard of Darryl Brock?
Tomorrow, my other writer friend, Max Apple, is coming to the game. Max has cleared this hurdle. He has had six or seven novels published, and several of them have been made into movies. Generally speaking, he has not been thrilled with the movies.
I went by Lefty’s for one last Anchor Steam beer. Perhaps it is because I know it is “outta here” come January, but the place seemed droopier than ever.