RMJ 207 September 10

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10 ● Denver, vs Colorado

I felt a lot better this morning. My chest was still sore, but it wasn’t a consuming type of pain. We would be home tonight, regardless of the outcome of the game. The Pirates had lost, so we were still 3-1/2 games up.

I asked Dave to check me out, and he discovered several vertebrae out of alignment. He got me down on the floor, twisted me up like a pretzel, and then leaned hard. It was like cracking a handful of knuckles, all at the same time. I felt so much better, I was almost exhilarated.

 

The one thing that would make it a perfect day was another win. That would give us a 3-3 trip — just what we were hoping for when we left. I really thought we would get it, too. The Chief has been tough lately, and their pitcher, Frank Castillo, has been no mystery to our hitters.

The first inning went swimmingly. We scored three runs, and Garcia shut them down. After that, we added a run here and a run there, and so did they.

In the sixth inning, they unloaded. Mike Magnante had some problems for the first time in a while, and I brought in Wagner to pitch to Larry Walker. Walker will probably win the league MVP award, but Billy struck him out.

Normally, I don’t play the left/right game, but in this instance, I was trying to walk through the inning on eggshells. The next hitter, Andres Galarraga, hit a double off Wagner several weeks ago in the Dome.

If I took Billy out, he would have a good, positive outing to help build a foundation for his return to the closer’s role. And Galarraga was 0-for-8 off John Hudek, with six strikeouts.

The score was tied at 5, and there were runners at second and third. Hudek came on, and I handed him the ball.

“This guy is yours,” I said. “Let’s get back in the dugout.”

The next two pitches decided the game.

The first pitch hit Galarraga. Danté Bichette hit the second pitch hard, over the fence: grand slam. We scored another run, but it was too late; we lost 9-7.

Once again, the Pirates and Cardinals lost. We can’t lose for losing.

 

On the way home, Hudek came up to the first cabin and plopped down next to me.

“I don’t want to bother you,” he said. “But I have to get something off my chest.”

“Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t want to tell you what to do,” he said. “I know you have to make a lot of tough decisions. But I need more work.”

At this point, I am thinking, more work? After coughing up four runs in ten seconds, he wants more work. I guess it’s my fault he didn’t get Galarraga out. I haven’t used him properly. Right.

 “I know what you mean,” is what I said. “It’s hard to keep everyone sharp when we have so many guys in the bullpen, and the starters are going deep into the games.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not saying we should take the starters out, but I still need to get more work to stay sharp. Remember when I got Frank Thomas and Albert Belle in Chicago?”

I nodded.

“Well, that was because I came into the game the night before and I was sharp. Now I have only pitched two-thirds of an inning in eight days, and I have to pitch more than that.”

This is a constant complaint among relief pitchers: they either pitch too much or not enough. It’s a legitimate concern, but it is also an unavoidable circumstance.

In San Francisco, we played a team that has mostly lefthanded hitters, so we use mostly lefthanded relief pitchers. Here in Denver, it is exactly the opposite.

The good relievers find a way to stay ready; the others complain about the way they are used.

I was growing weary of Hudek’s harangue. He generally talks in circles, and he repeats himself ad nauseam. He said that his pitches to Galarraga and Bichette weren’t really that bad.

He said that Russ Springer hasn’t been getting enough work — even though Russ has been unavailable with a sore back.

He said that he hasn’t been throwing hard during batting practice, because we have asked him to slow down and save it for the game.

He said he is still a closer, but he just needs more work.

I wonder if he realizes that his record is 1-3; that his ERA is 6.62; that he has allowed 65 baserunners in 35 innings; that quite a few of those runners have been cleared off the bases by the eight gopher balls he has delivered. And I wonder if he realizes that the only guy who has been in his corner all year long is me. We would probably be a few games ahead of where we are now if I had used him less — not more.

But the sad fact is, most players cannot face reality. They cannot accept failure without losing confidence. And they cannot win without confidence.

I have heard the Hudek speech before — many times, from many players. There is no reward for talking a good game, however. The only thing that matters is results.

I suggested that he come out early and face a few hitters whenever he feels rusty. I think he will avail himself of this opportunity, but I doubt it will help him.

From my perspective, he has an emotional problem. His stuff is good enough when he has good control, but he doesn’t allow himself to have good control, because he becomes a madman when he gets into the game. He tries to throw so hard that he loses all sense of direction.

“I will use you when I think you can help us win,” I said. “We are not in the development business, where I can pitch you every other day, like they did at New Orleans. Up here, it’s all about winning. We will do anything you want to help keep you sharp, but in the end, only you can control your emotions — and your pitches.”