RMJ 223 September 26

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 26 ● Houston, vs Pittsburgh

We turned out the lights at 3:30 this morning, and I got up at 11, feeling like a million bucks. Judy was doing her motherly duties: washing and folding clothes, operating on rote in the happy limbo-land between sleep and dream.

“I’m going to have to get a nap if I am going to make it to the game,” she said.

“The heck with the game,” I said. “Take a nap and skip the game.”

“The only thing is, I think the wives are having a party, and I should be there,” she said.

I can only look upon Judy as a godsend. We met by the swimming pool of an apartment complex near the Dome. She lived in Memphis at the time, and was just passing through Houston, visiting a friend who happened to live in the same complex. The day I met her was the second of three she was planning to spend.

As it turned out, she stayed a few extra days, until our homestand was over. I loved her right from the start, and she liked me pretty well too. But we had to be pretty persistent to keep the romance alive.

We exchanged letters and phone calls; I invited her to join me in Cincinnati; I went to Memphis at the end of the season.

She was reluctant to start another relationship, after a failed marriage. I was on the rebound too, but I felt no such fear. I kept putting the heat on her, and she finally moved to Houston a few months later.

 

When I reflect on the seminal events of my life, I feel the helping hand of God. I am probably one of the weakest Christians in the world, and by all accounts I should be one of the strongest.

To have been born to a happy and loving family; to have been given the wonderful gift of baseball; to have Judy placed in my path at a time when my shoulder was sore and I was spinning aimlessly in a sea of debt; all these things to be thankful for, and now this: the chance to fulfill the ultimate goal of a labor of love. How can I still question the eternal goodness of life?

I can’t, but I still do.

 

I waited for Ryan to get home from school because he was asleep when I got home last night, and I wanted to share last night’s experience with him before I left for the ballpark. He was a little groggy too, but the sparkle came back when he recounted his aftergame activities. I gave him another big hug and headed for the park.

When I arrived, Joe Drape of the New York Times was waiting in my office. His assignment was to do a feature story on me; I was flattered: Sports Illustrated and now the Times. I don’t know if the SI piece is going to run, but I will have some memorable bookends to the story of my first season. First, Murray Chass in the spring — and now, Joe Drape in the fall.

 

My problem tonight was to field a lineup that would give The Chief a chance to win, while resting most of our best players. The only position I couldn’t fill with a worthy replacement was first base. For this assignment, I called upon “old reliable,” Luis Gonzalez.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you the night off,” I said. “I just don’t have enough infielders.”

He said it was all right, but I could tell he was a little hurt. It wasn’t that he minded playing; it was just that he was the only regular who was asked to perform — and in that way, it was like I was telling him he wasn’t as good as the others. I tried to think of a way to solve this problem, and I couldn’t. We would just have to live with it.

 

During batting practice, Gene Lamont came over and congratulated me. His heart had to be aching after he led the Pirates to a Cinderella season, only to be left with a midnight pumpkin.

Lamont may win the Manager of the Year award. He would be a worthy recipient, but I know he would trade the award to be in my shoes.

This is sort of a touchy subject with me. Like so many big-league managers, Gene spent a lot of time in the minor leagues, and on the coaching lines, before he finally got his chance. By comparison, I am a charlatan.

It’s not that I feel apologetic about my sudden ascent; it’s just that I can understand the frustration of guys like Cubby, Davey Lopes, and Chris Chambliss, who have served full apprenticeships, and who have been interviewed to manage, but have never been chosen.

 

Chief started slowly, but he got a couple of good breaks when the Pirates stumbled on the basepaths. Gonzo made a great scoop on a double-play throw from second-baseman Russ Johnson.

There was a man on third with one out, and Russ was playing second base for the first time in his life. His pivot was clumsy and his throw was wild, but Old Reliable saved the day.

Gonzo is such a great guy to have on a team! I hope we can get him back next year.

After the fourth inning, I moved Randy Knorr from catcher to first base, and brought Tony Peña in to catch. I walked down to the end of the bench and told Gonzo he could shower up and go home. He laughed.

“Are you shittin’ me?” he said.

“No,” I said. “You’re the only regular who had to start. This is your reward.”

“I’m not going home,” he said. “I want to stay here with the guys.”

I knew he would say that, but I think he appreciated the gesture.

Russ Johnson was the offensive star of the game. He singled, stole second, moved up on the overthrow, and scored on a perfect squeeze bunt by Luis Rivera in the fifth inning. Then he hit a solo homer in the seventh.

Oscar Henriquez pitched a scoreless eighth. Billy Wagner slammed the door in the ninth, striking out the side and hitting 100 MPH on the radar gun. We won the game 2-0.

 

After the game, I got a call from Gerry. It seems that Drayton was accosted by several fans in the expensive Diamond Level seats. They told him in no uncertain terms that they had paid not paid top dollar to watch minor-league ballplayers. Drayton didn’t have a ready reply.

He could have pointed out that Bagwell and Biggio need rest before the Atlanta series. He could have told the fans that the Pirates were playing the same type of lineup.

Instead, like any good retailer, he felt obligated to serve the customer. He called Gerry and asked why we weren’t giving the fans a good show.

Actually, I think the real fans enjoyed getting a glimpse of the players who may be Astros stars of the future. But from Drayton’s perspective, the real fans are the ones who spend the big money on Diamond-level seats.

I don’t blame him. We are going to need all the money we can make, to field a good team next year.