RMJ 4 February 17

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 17 ● Kissimmee

Now I have further evidence, from within and above. The internal plan authored by Vern and Cubby led to a crisp, snappy workout. Everyone was pleased, including the Great Manager in the Sky, who provided sunny breezes to dry the playing fields. I seemed to gain control by relinquishing it. Hosanna!

Roughly half the players here are in Astros camp for the first time, and they seem to be integrating well. Each spring, players are divided into groups, usually 1-4 or A-D. I have also divided them into four groups: the Rats, the Dogs, the Goats, and the Pigs. This has been a topic of conversation among the players and the staff. Everyone seems to be good-natured about it, as I hoped they would.

I didn’t realize it would get out of the clubhouse, but I should have known. You can’t keep something like that secret when you work under the watchful eye of the media.

Baseball has a long tradition of irreverent humor — almost long-lost, I might add. Perhaps we can revive it. If so, I think we will be better equipped for the rough ride of the regular season. There will be injuries and slumps, tough trips, and even fights before we are through. If we can laugh at ourselves, it will be a good tonic.

One of our beat writers, Carlton Thompson of the Houston Chronicle, came in after the workout and asked if I thought the “animal thing” was getting the desired result. I said I didn’t know. He said the guys seemed loose and carefree, and some of them said it was more fun this year.

That made me feel good, but I am realistic-enough to know that it’s only the third day of camp. No one has had a slump, been pulled for a relief pitcher or pinch-hitter, or has been screwed by an umpire.

We’ll see how they feel when we cut the team to 25. That’s usually when the second-guessing and grumbling begins.

I have also been known to wear a Hawaiian shirt when things seem too tense. In fact, Rob asked me if I would bring one Thursday for a group photo session with the coaching staff. He wants to use it on the game program for the first homestand. I’ll bring one, but I will also wear a uniform. If the Hawaiian shot looks good and we are still in a sunny mood, I might go for it. But if we have a tough exhibition season, I may ask him to go the safe route.

I fully intend to be aggressive in my approach to managing — even daring at times — but I don’t want to appear stupid. The first two teams we encounter, the Braves and the Cardinals, can wipe that smile off your face in a hurry.

           

Oscar Henriquez showed up today. Visa problems prevented him from leaving his native Venezuela on time. His fastball usually arrives ahead of schedule at 95-98 MPH.

Oscar has had other problems. He almost died from a rare disease two years ago. Then he celebrated his return to health with a little too much zeal. At a burly 6”5”, he’s a hard man to ignore. We have him slated for AA or AAA, but it may be hard to hold him down if he keeps throwing strikes, as he did in the Caribbean Series.

Gerry and I had a fatherly talk with him after practice. Oscar didn’t speak much, but he kept nodding his head as if he understood. My guess is that the only thing he understood was that he couldn’t go out and have fun until we finished talking. That’s all right; some of the best relief pitchers in history have been a little wacko.

I know one thing: there aren’t many hitters who would enjoy facing a 240-pound psycho with a 98 MPH fastball.

           

Played 13 holes of golf with Vern, Alan, and our trainer, Dave Labossiere. Kept at it until a brilliant orange sunset got smoky and fell away. Alan was lights-out; the rest of us stunk. We played so poorly, we were reduced to laughter.

Afterward, Vern, Alan, and I ate Mexican food and talked pitching. Vern has a brief prepared on every aspect of pitching. He also produces charts and graphs. I guess it must come from his college background.

I have taken to calling Vern The Perfessor, á la Casey Stengel. I don’t think Casey would mind.