RMJ 211 September 14

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 14 ● Houston, vs Dodgers

Friday night, we gave away ring binders with Jeff Bagwell’s picture on both sides. I got two signed and gave them to Ryan and Jordan. Last night I got Derek to sign Jordan’s ball, and Cheo signed two of the metallic baseball cards they were giving out.

Jordan is having a progressive birthday party, and the most memorable part of all came this morning.

Bill, Jordan, and Ryan came to the game with me. After I got my uniform on and filled out the lineup card, we went down on the field. Vern was just finishing up his work with his own son, Kenny. I enlisted him to work with Ryan and Jordan. They both threw off the bullpen mound, and Vern was especially good with Jordan. I hit Ryan some ground balls and fly balls.

As we headed back to the clubhouse, Bill Spiers came by and said, “Chapel is at 12:15.” It was 12:10.

I decided to bring my entourage into the service, and I know Bill really enjoyed sharing this special time with Jordan, just as I did with Ryan. It reinforces two things we hope to pass along to our children: the concept of thinking big, and pursuing a dream. And the comforting thought that, as Christians, we can entrust our hopes and dreams, our failures, and our fears to a benevolent God.

When it comes to being a Christian, I’m pretty weak. I don’t give much, and I want to control everything myself. Still, there have been several times when I have been overwhelmed to the point where I have simply said, “Thy will be done.” And like Hampton admitting that he had lost confidence, the admission of weakness gave me strength.

Today’s lesson was about giants: the giants the Israelites faced when they approached the Holy Land. Our speaker told us how ten of twelve advance scouts told Moses that the enemy was too big. The other two trusted in God’s word that he would lead them to the Holy Land.

These days, our giants are our fears. Are we afraid of the Braves or the Marlins? Do we fear we will fail when it really counts?

Fear can be crippling. I feel like I was able to bear that burden myself as a player, but I sure appreciate the help now. I know some of our players need it, too. About ten of them attended chapel. As you might expect, those who could benefit most from this message were elsewhere.

 

The game got off to a rousing start when Bagwell connected for his 39th homer in the first inning. Chris Holt was really sharp; he could have pitched a shutout.

The Dodgers tied it in the fourth on a bunt by Otis Nixon, a hit batter, a single by Mike Piazza, and a double-play grounder. Without the bunt, they would not have scored at all.

Nixon bunts as an Indian

In the eighth, they scored again. Nixon’s two-out bunt started it. It was a push bunt toward short, and Ricky got it in time to throw him out. His hurried throw was wide, and when Eric Young singled, I went to the mound with no intention of removing Holt. I just wanted to make sure we didn’t give Piazza a pitch out over the plate to hit.

“If you walk him, I’ll bring Russ in to get Karros. But don’t walk him. You can get him out.”  

Perhaps I shouldn’t have put it that way. Holt walked Piazza, then Springer walked Karros to force in the lead run.  

Holt’s performance was exceptional, but he still didn’t win.

 
Pitching IP H R ER BB SO HR ERA
Chris Holt 7.2 6 3 3 2 2 0 3.45

Fortunately for him, we came right back with the tying run on a two-out pinch single by Tony Eusebio. The crowd of 33,000 fans roared approval and stayed up for the next hitter, Bill Spiers.  

Lefthander Scott Radinsky was on the mound, and I started to pinch-hit with Sean Berry. When I looked at the Dodgers’ bullpen, I saw Darren Hall warming up. I rethought the situation. We had already tied it; it would be Spiers against a lefty, or Berry vs a righty.

Because Billy is the better fielder, and we had already tied the score, I sent him back out to hit. He was really agitated, because I had broken his concentration. He grounded out.

Billy Wagner held the line in the ninth. In the tenth, he got a little wild and walked two batters with one out. I called for José Lima to face Piazza. José struck out Piazza the last time he faced him; this time, Piazza singled up the middle. Lima struck out the next two batters, but the damage was done. This time we did not come back. We lost the game in ten innings, 4-3.

 
Tm W L W-L% GB
HOU 75 72 .510 —
PIT 71 77 .480 4.5

I was really proud of the way we played this weekend. The Dodgers have a powerful attack, and we held them down three days in a row. With any luck, we would have had a sweep.

The Pirates lost again. Our magic number fell to 10.

I stepped out of the dugout to say goodbye to Bill and Jordan. I headed for the clubhouse, realizing that the toughest part of my day was ahead.

 

It all started with Thomas Howard missing infield practice. He didn’t ask permission; didn’t show. When Bill told me about it, I just said, “Let’s let it slide. We only have a few more weeks. Let’s not make an issue of it.”

Sometime around the fourth inning, Bill said, “You know, Tank hasn’t come down from the clubhouse yet. If it was up to me, I’d release him.”

Here we go again, I thought.

I knew I was going to have to get involved; I have not been happy with Thomas’ attitude. He doesn’t seem to be into our effort to win the division, except as it affects him. He sulks a lot — especially on a day like this one, where we are going against a righthander and he thinks he should be playing.

The fact is, he was 1-for-10 against Nomo, and Hidalgo is a better outfielder. The other fact is that it is not his decision who plays. We are trying to win as a team, and he is just not with us.

He finally came down in the seventh inning, in a situation where we might hit for Holt. He stood right in front of Bill, by the bat rack, loosening up to hit. Bill was so hot, he was getting red in the face.

“Who do you want to hit?” he asked.

“Tank,” I said. My reasoning was that 1) he had put the pressure on himself with his behavior; 2) he would go back to the clubhouse after hitting, and thus would not be a distraction; and 3) I wanted to save Bobby Abreu in case I needed him to play the outfield.

I’m not sure Bill endorsed my line of thinking, but he told Tank. It turned out we didn’t need him to hit, and the game went on.

I was on the brink of changing pitchers, and on the horns of a dilemma.

With the Dodgers threatening in the eighth, Bill and Tank found themselves down the runway, and they got into a loud argument that could have resulted in a fight.

I was on the brink of changing pitchers, and on the horns of a dilemma: Should I go down the runway and intercede, or stay up and manage the game? I left Bill to his own devices, and I stayed with the game.

When I heard Tank say, “You’re full of shit!” two or three times, I expected the worst. It didn’t happen, but Bill was agitated when he came back up.

As it turned out, Tank hit for the pitcher with two outs in the ninth inning, and a man on first; he flied out to end the game. He had a pretty good at-bat against Todd Worrell.

When I got to my office, he was already in there, and he shut the door. I admire his determination; I know it was hard to have another confrontation after making the last out. It was hard for me too, but I was willing to get it over with. Otherwise, I would have to do it tomorrow.

Tank’s assertion was that Bagwell told him infield practice was only for guys who were in the lineup.

“Don’t ask Bagwell,” I said. “Ask me or ask Bill.”

He said that the reason he wasn’t on the bench was that he was watching the monitor to see what Nomo was doing. This isn’t a bad idea; in fact, I have often thought we should have somebody watching the monitor and passing information along to guys who are in the game.

“Gonzo and Spiers came up, and I told them that if they could get a peek at Piazza they could call pitches. If he set up outside, it was a fastball; inside was a split.” This type of information can be useful. But again, it is a matter that needs to be discussed and approved.

I know that a lot of guys go up to the clubhouse during the game. They get coffee, watch the game for an inning or so, and come back down. Tank maintained that he has been doing the same thing all year, but I do not believe this to be the case.

I know he goes upstairs more than most, but I don’t recall him staying up for the first seven innings of a game. Afterwards, I heard that he was watching a football game, not our game.

“I’m really disappointed in you,” I said. “You’re a veteran, and we need you to help us. But it seems like you just want to do your own thing. You can’t go around telling a coach he’s full of shit. That is not acceptable.

“I’m not going to do anything, but let this slide,” I said. “We don’t need any more distractions these last two weeks. I just want you to know I am very disappointed.”

He rehashed his arguments again. I remained stone-faced, impassive.

Finally, I said, “Look, we’ve been in here a while, and if I don’t open the door to the press, they’re going to be all over this story. Let’s just move out and move on.”

Tank moved out, and the press moved in. They didn’t pick up on the internal struggle.

As I was getting ready to leave, Bill came in. He explained his side of the debate, though he didn’t have to. He was clearly doing his job by talking to Tank about his behavior. I told him what I told Tank, and he said it was probably for the best.

“Most likely, he’ll come up and try to smooth it over with me tomorrow,” he said.

 

This is the most-distressing part of managing for me. Bill is 66 years old, and he can’t get into a fistfight with a player — as much as he might like to.

I hope Derek and Thomas don’t see me like I saw Harry.

The way he has been treated by Derek and Tank is disgraceful. I have voiced my frustration several times to Gerry. It seems like most of our internal trouble involves these two guys, and they are Black.

When Harry Walker managed the Astros, he had issues with Joe Morgan, Jimmie Wynn, and Mike Cuellar — all players of color, and three of our best players. I could see why they were upset; it was obvious. I hope Derek and Thomas don’t see me like I saw Harry. How can I know? I can’t. It’s impossible.   

This is one thing I never had to worry about in the broadcast booth.