RMJ 204 September 7

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 7 ● San Francisco, vs Giants

Even though the locker room was alive with raucous rapping, I had a sense of foreboding. D.K. was pitching, and Tony Eusebio was out with two sore knees.

Even though D.K. is having a signature season and is in the running for the Cy Young Award, he is still just a bit fragile, in my eyes. When I think of his chances of finishing what he has started, I imagine myself playing a round of golf.

I am even par, teeing off on the 16^th hole. I have never been better than a nine-handicap player, but I have been in this situation eight or ten times. Twice, I actually pulled it off and finished even; the other times, I failed.

I don’t want to say I choked, because that would insinuate that I was good enough to shoot par — and on each occasion, I knew I wasn’t that good. The mere acknowledgment of the reality of the situation is usually too much to bear in the end.

If I am flirting with this kind of round these days, I don’t want to know my score; I just want to play each remaining hole as best I can. If I have been playing a fade, I sure don’t want to see a lake on the right. If I have been hitting all of the greens, I don’t want to miss one and have to chip.

The mere suggestion of the word “don’t” usually does me in.

In this case, Brad Ausmus is the word don’t. And Candlestick — now 3Com — Park is a double don’t. D.K. has not pitched well here.

If Darryl had already won a Cy Young Award, like Greg Maddux, it wouldn’t matter. If we didn’t need him so badly in our pennant chase, it wouldn’t matter. But with all the personal and team pressures, I was afraid the circumstances would matter.

On the other side of the equation was Kirk Rueter, a soft-tossing lefty.

My fears were realized when Darryl got wild and gave up four runs. D.K. was throwing hard. His curve was biting.

Brad Ausmus went into his “keep it in the ballpark” mode, signaling for fastballs away and curve balls behind in the count. Tony Eusebio likes to go with the fastball early, working in-and-out.

If D.K. gets ahead, he finishes them off with a curve. He’s not like the rest of our pitchers; he has a knee-buckling curve ball.  He can, and should, throw it with two strikes when he has the feel for it. 

If he gets behind, Tony calls for a fastball away most of the time. Sometimes, against a real tough hitter, he will go to the curve if he gets behind in the count. But that is a last-ditch strategy, not a game plan.

I have just about come to my wits’ end with Brad. He invariably gives the hitters too much credit, taking a defensive approach rather than an aggressive one. We have talked about this a lot — and he just nods and says he understands. But then he gets into the game and reverts to his instincts, which I believe are unavailing.

I remember talking to his former manager, Bruce Bochy, about him just after the trade.

“He’s a great receiver and he really throws well,” Bochy said. And he’s strong. He can go back there every day and give you a strong effort. But he has some funny ideas.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“Well, you know he is an Ivy League guy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he is very alert. He notices everything.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He will come up with some ideas that will surprise you. And some of them will make a lot of sense.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But some of his ideas are a little different, if you know what I mean,”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s just say, he is a good, hardworking player, and he has an intense desire to win. You’ll like him. I’m pretty sure you’ll like him.”

That was about all I could get out of Bochy, but because he is a former catcher, it put me on guard for the “funny ideas.” It has taken me almost the whole season to figure out what he meant by funny. I think if I were to substitute “he is stubborn about his funny ideas,” I would have a good translation.

 

Now, let me back off a little: Biggio is stubborn about his ideas as well. I have asked him to hit selfishly — to take the Jeff Bagwell “swing hard and do damage” approach. But Biggio has always hit at the top of the lineup, and he has been schooled in the unselfish, “move ’em up and get ’em in” philosophy.

In today’s game, we were down 2-1 in the fourth inning when he came up with Darryl on second and nobody out. I would have counseled him to hit away, and go for the big inning. On his own, he tried to bunt and took a strike. Then he hit an inside fastball on the ground to second base, moving D.K. to third.

For me, this is an eighth-inning play — not a fourth-inning play. Billy Spiers lined out to first on a great, diving play by J.T. Snow. We did not score in that inning.

Biggio also wants to play all the way in with a man on third, when we want him halfway. I understand his point: he is thinking about a ground ball, and he trusts his quick feet more than his arm strength.

In doing this, however, he is only considering a ground ball. Some of our pitchers don’t throw many ground balls, and with a guy like Tom Martin in today’s game, I am concerned about a shallow fly ball that may drop in front of an outfielder — the type of fly ball that Bidge might be able to catch if he were playing deeper.

With Biggio, this difference of opinion it is not so troublesome, because this only comes into play a time or two at the most in any ballgame; Brad’s signal-calling affects every pitch we throw.

It shouldn’t.

The pitchers have the last say, and they are ultimately responsible for the outcome. They should throw the pitches they want to throw. But because we have a young staff, and Brad has a strong personality, they usually defer to him. Even D.K., who has more experience than Brad, followed the lead for the most part today.

I thought D.K. was stubborn enough to pitch his own game. And it made me wonder what I would have done, throwing to Brad. I was pretty stubborn, but I am not so stubborn that I am willing to create a rift between our pitchers and our catcher at this point.

What can I do? Well, I have four alternatives.

 

• I can talk with Brad and try to convince him to be more aggressive, and to call for more inside pitches. This was my first strategy, and it has failed.
• I can call the pitches from the dugout. This I will not do, because I cannot possibly have a better feel for the game from my vantage point than the pitcher does from his.
• I can encourage the pitchers to call their own games. This, too, has failed.
• I can make the pitchers call their own games. I will not do this in the pressure-cooker of the pennant race, but I may try it next spring.

 

So what am I going to do? Nothing. We’re still in first place.

 

This spring, I encouraged our pitchers to add and subtract to the catcher’s signs, which is an easy method of calling your own game.

Let’s say that the signals are 1 for fastball, 2 for curve, 3 for slider, and 4 for changeup — a pretty standard arrangement when no one Is on base.

If the catcher signals 1 for a fastball and the pitcher wants to throw a curve, which is number 2, he simply wipes his jersey once — adding 1 plus 1 to make 2.

If he has four pitches and he wants to subtract, he simply wipes his leg three times: 4-3-2. One wipe makes a fastball a changeup; two makes it a slider; three makes it a curve ball.

I used this method, because I was headstrong like Brad. I insisted on calling my own game.

With a man on second, when the catcher gives multiple signs, it can take forever to get the one you want. If I wanted a changeup (number four, for example), I might have to look at one set of signs and shake off; look at another set and shake off; look at another set and shake off. And then, finally, get to the changeup. In the meantime, the hitter has probably stepped out of the box at least once.

If he gave me a fastball and I wanted to throw a change, I would simply wipe my leg once and pitch.

With a man on second, this has the added advantage of preventing the runner from relaying signs. If he breaks the catcher’s code, he still has to figure out if the pitcher is adding or subtracting. By then, it is too late to relay the sign to the hitter.

 

We lost the game 5-1. I’m not sure we could have won it if I had been calling the signs, or if Bidge had swung for the fences, but it was frustrating to have come this far and still have so far to go.

Afterward, I talked to Gerry.

“If we are still here next year, I am going to change some things,” I said. “This spring, I put in a sign to give the hitter the option to bunt for a hit. Nobody does it. I also asked the pitchers to add and subtract. Not one of them does it.

“It’s frustrating. You’d think these guys would want to be more creative. But they seem to be afraid to take the responsibility.

“I haven’t forced it, because I have felt that I should try to build a foundation of respect and confidence first. Now, I wonder if I have just been unwilling to take responsibility myself.

“I can’t do it now, but I’ll tell you this: If I am still here next spring, the pitchers will be adding-and-subtracting, and the hitters will be bunting — whether they want to or not.”

 

Again, we were lucky: the Cardinals and the Pirates lost. I know the guys aren’t any happier than I am to hang on this way.

If we don’t start winning more games, we’ll never last in the playoffs — even if we do win our weak division.