RMJ 213 September 16
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 16 ● Houston, vs San Diego
Up and at ’em, one more time. I finished paying the bills at one a.m., smoked a cigar, and read myself to sleep at 2:30.
Judy forgot to wake me up, so I could say goodbye to Ryan; the alarm clock did the job at 8:30. Cubby was to come by at 9:30, and he arrived right on time at 9:20.
I had finished my bowl of cereal, which made the driving a lot easier, but I had not quite finished the sports page. I did read enough to learn that the Pirates had beaten the Expos in extra innings, to cut our lead to 3-1/2 games. With a two-game set in Pittsburgh dead ahead, a win today seemed critical.
Gerry called just before game time. Seems Drayton was dismayed over last night’s game. It wasn’t so much that they beat us, but that they did it without Gwynn, Finley, and Joyner in the starting lineup.
He told Gerry that we played like a high-school team, and asked him what would happen to us if we didn’t start Bagwell, Biggio, and Bell.
“Tell him I didn’t start Biggio three times, and we won two of those games. And I didn’t start Bagwell twice, and we won both games.”
“I wish I had thought of it at the time,” he said. “He keeps stressing that we have to have bold and energetic leadership, and I keep telling him that we are on course.
“I have told him honestly that I feel we have a team that should finish 10 to 15 games above .500, if things go well. But with Berry and Bell not driving in runs and with Reynolds contributing only seven wins, and with Wagner having trouble closing, we are doing about as well as we can expect.”
“I’ll go along with that,” I said.
“Well, he doesn’t,” he said. “He says that we have to play with more confidence. I don’t quite know what to tell him anymore.”
“I think we have confidence,” I said. “But how can you ever be sure? One time a pitching coach came out to the mound when I was in trouble and he said, ‘You’re not concentrating.’”
“How do you know?” I asked him.
Gerry smiled. “I’ll remember that one too,” he said.
Confidence and concentration are concepts we all understand and feel, but I’m not sure we can detect these things in others. Body language offers a clue, but how do we really know? We don’t.
Ramón Garcia started out just like Hampton. Did he lose confidence when he gave up a hit and a walk before the small gathering of spectators had settled into their seats after the National Anthem? Maybe a little. Did it defeat him? No.
He struck out Tony Gwynn, Ken Caminiti, and Wally Joyner in order, and the little crowd roared. Chief walked back to the dugout like Alexander the Great.
We promptly came to bat and scored three runs on doubles by Bell and González, a walk to Bagwell, and a single by Richard Hidalgo. Ramón put the first two runners on in the second, but he pitched out of it again.
We scored four more times in the second as Sean Berry cleared the loaded bases with a double.
The Padres finally scored a run in the third. When we scored six more in the fourth, I started substituting for Bagwell, Biggio, and Bell. I ended up using 19 players; Bruce Bochy used 21. That’s 40 players in all — not a record, but way above average for an 8-1/2-inning game.
Manny Barrios gave up two runs in the seventh Inning, in his major-league debut. I like this kid. He’s got a lot of life on his pitches, and he has a great attitude. He probably needs one more year in the minors, but when he arrives, we’ll have something that has been missing from our bullpen all season: a ground-ball pitcher.
Oscar Henriquez pitched the 8th and struck out two. José Cabrera struck out the side in the ninth.
After the game, I was talking to Gonzo.
“You know what was wrong with the Padres today?” I asked.
“They played all their stars?” he guessed.
“No,” I said. “They couldn’t read Spanish.”
He looked confused.
“You know how pitchers try to put a lot of English on the ball?” I said.
He started to smile.
“Well, we were putting Spanish on it today.”
Indeed, we used four pitchers — all Spanish, and all with great stuff. And with Tony Peña behind the plate, we had a secret weapon.
When one of the pitchers got a little wild, Tony would stand up in front of the plate, scream out a challenge in Spanish, and then fire the ball back at the pitcher at full speed. It was amusing to watch him do it. We could all hear him, loud and clear, but none of us, save Cheo, knew what he was saying.
Our last and most-important trip of the year got off with a balk. The pilot started down the runway, then pulled up to a stop. This was a little disconcerting, but it wasn’t too bad; we never really got up a full head of steam.
My concern was that there was something wrong with the plane, and that we would be delayed.
As it turned out, the problem was potentially deadly: another plane came in for a landing on a runway that was perpendicular to ours.
We got aloft on our next try, and we made it to Pittsburgh without incident. We saw the lights of Three Rivers Stadium, and we were hoping for good news on arrival. Instead, we learned that that Pirates had beaten the Expos 8-2.
So here we are, 3-1/2 games ahead, with a two-game series to play. When we leave Pittsburgh, we will have only ten games left; they will have nine. If we sweep, we are practically home-free. If we split, we are still in good shape. But if we get swept, we will be caught in the doldrums, while the Pirates’ ship is moving in briskly to pillage and plunder.