RMJ 205 September 8

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 8 ● Off-day in Denver

When you have been on the road half the time for almost eight months, a day off away from home is a damp dishrag.

This one had the potential to be better, because there is a lot to do in Denver.

Dave Labossiere drove to Breckenridge and rented a bike. Vern toured Rocky Mountain National Park. Most of the players played golf. Ash, Bill, Cubby, and I played a game that resembles golf.

Actually, Ash played well; the rest of us thrashed around in the shaggy rough, looking for our misguided shots.

I suppose I should have organized something in advance.  We should have been able to find a course that offered better scenery. Instead, we went north and east and ended up on a links course. The greens were good, but we could barely see the mountains.  We were on the apron of the Great Plains, and it wasn’t all that great. By the time I got back to the hotel, all I wanted to do was take a nap.

 

Just as I was nodding off, the phone in rang in the other room. By the time I got to it, the voicemail system had kicked in. I waited a minute, then checked my messages. I had eight of them.

The first was from Tal; the last from Mark Berman, the sports anchor of the Houston Fox station.

Mark has a nose for news. He gets more scoops than the rest of the sports guys combined.

What was up? Could it be something big?

In the time it took me to dial Tal’s number, I thought of everything from my own dismissal to our acquisition of a Jay Bell or the like, to Gerry having an accident on his trip to Napa Valley, to Drayton coming to Denver the give me and the team a pep talk.

I was unable to reach Tal; I left a message and returned the other calls. In the meantime, I got a call from Gerry. He was upset because Drayton wants him to procure an impact player now.

The Giants made the deal with the White Sox to acquire Roberto Hernandez and Wilson Alvarez. Alvarez beat us a game in San Francisco, and Hernandez saved two games and set up the other win.

Our problem is that there are only 19 games left, and few players are available. The guys we might get would not be eligible for the playoffs, and they are free-agents at the end of the year or are signed to contracts that we can’t afford. To get them, we would have to give up a good prospect or two.

It just doesn’t make sense.

Drayton is worried because we are getting ripped on the talk shows, and he is worried that if we lose the division we will be vilified, which will kill sales for next year and put a damper on the new stadium.

I don’t blame him, but the time to act is not the middle of September — it’s the middle of July through the end of August. We were in pretty good shape during that time, so there was no sense of urgency. I was still hoping we would do something.

Now, I have to find a way to win the hand with the cards I’m holding.

Tal brought up an idea we had discussed earlier: hitting Biggio third and Bagwell fourth. At the time, I was not enthusiastic about this idea. I think it might be a good idea now.

For one thing, Bagwell isn’t hitting all that well. A change of perspective might help him. For another, we are in Denver — the home run capital of the world. Even lesser hitters prosper here.

I might get lucky if I hit Billy or Chuckie leadoff and Derek second. Derek didn’t hit that well the last few times I batted him second. But he hasn’t done anything at all in the cleanup spot. If we happened to break out of our offensive funk with a new lineup, it might lift our spirits.

 

We had our team party at the Rock Bottom Brewery. Everyone attended. We played a lot of pool and a lot of barroom riddles, coin tricks, and mind-reading games. There was a lot of laughter, but it never got too loud.

Just before it ended at 11 p.m., I got Bidge off to the side and asked him to consider hitting third. He started to speak, and I stopped him.

“Don’t tell me anything now. Sleep on the idea, and think about who might be able to lead off and hit second. I’ll talk to you about it more when we get to the park tomorrow.”

On the way back, I discussed it with Vern and Bill. They seem to think it might help, if for no other reason than we would be doing something different. The microtuning I’ve been doing hasn’t helped at all.

A friend of Barry’s asked Bill to sign his cap, and none of us had a pen. We went to the desk, and I spoke with Randy Knorr.

“Great party,” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I think everyone had a good time.”

“The only thing that surprised me,” I said, “was that it was so tame. They were playing oldies, and it wasn’t that loud. Nobody raised their voice. Nobody broke anything or got in a fight. I remember some of our team parties that ended in mayhem. This one was pretty tame.”

“What makes you think it’s over?” he asked. I noticed that the cashier was changing his big bills into smaller denominations: a poker game in the making.

“Well, I hope you guys blow it all out of your systems,” I said. “Just don’t do anything that will roust me out of bed in the middle of the night.”

Randy smiled.

“Don’t worry. We’re just going to have a few more beers and talk ball. That’s all.”

I wish we could transplant a little of the Randy Knorr/Tony Peña mentality into Brad. They are all serious about winning, but Randy and Tony are a little looser — and they also seem to have more bravado.

 

Bravado! That’s what we need now. And I’m not sure a lineup change can provide it. I’m not sure anything can provide it. We just don’t have a boisterous club. We get along well, and we don’t have internal bickering. But we just are not hell-bent-for-leather.

I’m hoping we can at least become The Little Team that Could.