RMJ 218 September 21

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER, 21 ● Cincinnati, vs Reds

This is my last day to be 50 years old. It feels pretty good, but a win and a Pirates loss would make it even better.

This is also the penultimate road day of the year — a time to take stock of the cumulative fatigue of another campaign.

Sure, we may do some more traveling in the playoffs; but that will just be a short stay and right back home. If we get that far, we’ll fly on the wings of adrenaline, and jet lag won’t catch up with us until the we are eliminated or coronated.

I already have some great plans for the offseason: getting in shape, skiing, a Christmas cruise, and of course, planning for next year: the expansion draft, the free-agent market, trades, winter ball. A full plate.

 

 

The only thing that bothered me this morning was the Sunday crossword.

I arrived rather early, and our assistant trainer, Rex Jones, was starting to work it. I remembered that I had worked one yesterday, and I decided to do it again — not superstitious, mind you, just in the mood for a crossword.

The problem was that we took batting practice, and I had to do some interviews and take a couple of phone calls. As a result, I didn’t get back to Rex until 30 minutes before game time. I started thinking it was important to finish the puzzle, but it was larger and more difficult that yesterday’s. We worked away, and had it about two-thirds finished when I had to go to the dugout. It was just ten minutes before the game.

 

I had a nagging feeling that this was not going to be a good day; don’t ask me why. I just had that feeling.

When I saw The Chief get them out 1-2-3 in the first, I felt a stronger sense of foreboding, because two of the outs were line shots.

I looked up at the scoreboard, and I noticed that the Pirates were up 7-1 on the Cardinals after three innings.

The Reds scored a run in the second on a homer by Willie Greene. Chief seemed to settle down after that, but he was running a lot of deep counts, so I knew I was going to have to dip into my bullpen before the game was through.

We tied the score and then took the lead. The big hits were delivered by Ricky Gutierrez and Sean Berry. These two guys may never win Gold Gloves, but they can hit.

We chased Mike Morgan and built an 8-2 lead in the sixth inning. It could have been better, but Bidge got caught rounding third on a good play by Pokey Reese. Cubby was a little late giving him the stop sign, and Bidge glared back toward third. When Cubby came back to the dugout, he admitted that he was a little late.

“I probably should have stopped him to begin with,” he said. “If the ball had trickled through, he could have scored anyway.”

Chief loaded the bases and got out of it in the bottom of the sixth, but he had already thrown 120 pitches, covered first a few times, and hit a double. He was spent, although he wouldn’t admit it.

I brought José Cabrera in to pitch, and he flirted with wildness, but held the line for two innings. I was hoping John Hudek could finish up, but he got wild and I had to make a move.

Vern asked if I wanted Magnante and Springer to get loose.

“No,” I said. “Just get Wagner up, throwing easily.”

Luckily, Wagner doesn’t know how to throw easily.

Hudek went 3-2 on the next hitter and gave up a solid single to center. We were still up 8-3, but there were two men on, and their best home-run hitter, Willie Greene was up. If Greene connected again, our lead would be cut to two runs. If I brought Billy in then, a walk would bring the tying run to the plate.

I looked down toward the bullpen, and Ash was waving his cap. Billy was ready.

I suppose I could be accused of panicking. If it were earlier in the year, I would probably try to get the last two outs without using my closer. But we only need four or five wins at this point, and this game was two outs from the win column.

Billy came in, struck out Greene, and got Reggie Sanders on a fly ball to left. He threw only six pitches. My premonition of doom was unfounded. Our magic number dropped to four. 

 

After the game, the writers did not ask me about using Billy too soon; perhaps they shared my doubts.

Vern and I took a run along the river. We had a beer. I had a cigar. Life was good. 

Just about that time, Bidge popped his head into my office.

“What did Cubby say?” he asked.

“About what?” I said.

“About the play at third,” he said.

“He didn’t say much. Just said that he should have stopped you sooner. That he could have held you and still scored you if the ball had gotten through. It wasn’t a big deal to me,” I said. “I just think when you’re aggressive, you are bound to get caught from time to time.”

“I just wondered,” he said, as he bebopped out of the room.

 

Later, I had dinner with Gerry and Matt. The subject of Bidge and Cubby came up again. This has been going on since spring training.

Matt and Bidge are close friends.  Matt was in line to be manager, but instead they gave the me the job. I would not have taken it if I thought Matt could get it. I like Matt, and I respect his baseball savvy. I also regard him as a friend. If you don’t like Matt Galante, you have a problem. He’s that kind of guy.

Matt was eminently qualified for the manager’s job, but I was assured that he was not going to get it. He was willing to coach third base for me, but there was sentiment in the office that we should make a clean sweep. Matt got swept out, and I know this hurt Bidge and a few other guys on the team.

But how do you think Cubby feels? He is just as qualified to coach third; knows the game as well; works as hard. He has paid his dues, and he has had several interviews with teams looking for a manager.

Matt comes to town and is immediately surrounded by a huddle of our key players. Cubby sees Matt talking to Biggio; Matt talking to Kile; Matt talking to Bagwell and Spiers. It’s not Matt’s fault that people like him. 

But it isn’t Cubby’s fault, either.

 

I have the impression that Bidge blames Cubby for the times I have called him into the office to try to get him to accept our leadership. I don’t think he blames me, even though I am the one who felt the need to meet with him. It’s kind of a shame, really.

Cubby is not the most-diplomatic guy in the world. I know he has tried to work with Bidge, but I don’t really see a good relationship developing. If Bidge were a little older, I would expect him to get over it — to let it go. In many ways, he is one of the most mature and professional players I have ever seen. In other ways, he’s still a kid.

I filled Matt in on some of these things during dinner. He wasn’t surprised.

“He’s tough,” is all Matt could say. “He can be really tough.”