RMJ 6 February 19

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 19 ● Kissimmee

Last night I returned a call from a radio station in Cincinnati. I was told that Cris Collinsworth wanted to interview me on his talk show. I was expecting the type of easygoing experience one professional athlete generally has with a peer. Instead, I was interviewed by another announcer who was apparently trying to establish a reputation as a tell-it-like-it-is reporter.

His opening question was “What makes you think you can manage a major-league team, when you have absolutely no experience?” After that, the questions came in flurries, like combination punches to the chin. I didn’t mind all that much; I know there are a lot of skeptics out there, especially outside Houston. I think I played the rope-a-dope routine pretty well, and I landed a few counterpunches of my own.

This morning, Murray Chass of the New York Times caught up with me during the early workout phase of stretching and throwing. I was free to talk, so we sat down in a golf cart and put our feet up.

Last fall, Murray wrote a column about my hiring, among other things, and a friend sent it to me. It was not a hatchet job, and not a glowing endorsement either; just a few insights. I can’t remember exactly what he wrote, but I do remember feeling good about it, so I thanked him. I have firsthand experience writing columns, and I know that it’s tough. Occasionally someone would tell me that they enjoyed my work, and it made me feel pretty good, so I returned the favor.

One of the things Murray asked me was how I was reacting to the cynical slant of reporters around the country. With the Cincinnati interview fresh on my mind, I made this observation:

“I don’t mind the criticism, because this is a very unconventional move. Anyone who goes on record now and says this is ridiculous, and that I will fail for sure, has that right. It is what I would call a first-guess.”

That’s the way I tried to work on the air. I would present the options of the two managers and then say what I would do if I were managing. Sometimes it appeared I was right, and sometimes wrong.

I felt that this type of approach conveyed to the fans the uncertainty of managing. There is no one right way — no “book.” Certainly there are conventional methods, and these are often called “percentage plays.” But if you look at the actual percentages as presented in Pete Palmer and John Thorn’s fine book The Hidden Game of Baseball, you will find that the percentage plays and the conventions do not always match.

The long and short of it is, there is no way to predict the future. You can only guess. And a first-guess is what makes the game so interesting.

Second-guessing is another matter entirely. It is the province of those whom former Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda described as “fans who never had a first guess, and need two to get one right.”

And so I told Murray, “if these people who are ripping me eat their words if we succeed, then I will feel vindicated. But my first-guess is that they will say that they knew it was a good move all along.”

 

Craig Reynolds showed up at camp today. Craig is a regular at Sunday home games in Houston. He organizes our Baseball Chapel program. If all Christians were like Craig, the baptismal fonts of the world would be dry from overuse. He is quite a guy.

He was also quite a shortstop, and one of the best bunters I have ever seen. I asked Craig to come down and work with some of our guys on the bunting game.

I was especially interested in getting him together with Pat Listach. Pat has been a slightly-below-average hitter during his career, but he has great footspeed. I am hoping he can learn to bunt better, and thereby add value to our offense out of the 2-hole in the batting order.

With Biggio leading off, Pat would have many opportunities to create dynamic offense just by slapping the ball around and bunting. If we can get something like that going at the top of the order, we can push some better RBI hitters back in the order, and improve the end of our lineup.

It seemed like Craig and Pat hit it off; I hope so. This aspect of our game could really be important — not just with Pat, but with all of our hitters. We figure to have a fast team, and the “little ball” tactics of bunting and base-stealing could make us more competitive against the league’s tough pitchers. I remember how the Big Red Machine, known mostly for power, took me down several times with little things, even when I was on top of my game.

           

I had dinner with Gerry tonight. It was mostly pleasant, but there was one thing that we knew we would have to deal with tomorrow: Derek Bell.

Derek is a good-natured guy, but sometimes he doesn’t think things through.       

Today, he put names on the back of his batting helmet: Carmen, a little girl with no arms and no legs, to whom he is dedicating his season, and Hendu. Steve Henderson was our hitting coach last year.

The second name might be a problem. It’s not that Hendu is a bad guy; quite the opposite. He is a great guy, and a good hitting coach. But when we took the fresh-start approach, Hendu got the axe. By bringing his name back up again, Bell would likely get the media going on a story that could divide our clubhouse. In fact, they were already asking about it.

The problem is, Craig Biggio has two names on the back of his helmet: Doc for Jim Ewell, our now-deceased longtime trainer, and Lou, the elderly man who was a popular clubhouse security man, also recently deceased.

So now we have either a little problem or a big one, depending on how Derek reacts when we talk to him tomorrow morning.

I can hardly wait.