RMJ 7 February 20

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 20 ● Kissimmee

Sometimes, it seems, tomorrow never comes; sometimes it comes too fast. This morning, I awoke with a jolt: I had forgotten to set my alarm, and it was 7:15. I was due at the ballpark at 8:00 for a photo session with all of the coaches. What’s more, I had to meet with Gerry and Derek, and deliver my opening speech to the entire team.

Fortunately, the photos were to be taken in uniform, so I could wear a hat. My hair was a tangle — an abstract design. I had no time for a shower, so I dressed, donned a chapeau and fled for the ballpark. I got there just in time to suit up for the shoot. I took a little ribbing from the coaches as I threw on the uniform and dug the sleep from my eyes.

 After the photo session, I reviewed my speech as I waited for Derek to show up. When he finally got there, our staff meeting had already started. I took him upstairs to Gerry’s office. I was reluctant to make a stand on the helmet issue at this point, because it seemed to be a trivial thing. But I also realized that it could become a problem if other players followed suit.

I was relieved when Gerry took the initiative.

“I don’t want to make a big deal about this, because it’s not a big deal,” he said. “I do want you to think about this helmet thing, though, because the media have already asked me about it, and I don’t want to give them a reason to stir up trouble.”

Derek had a quizzical look on his face. I’m not sure he knew what Gerry was talking about. So Gerry continued:

“When they came to me about the helmet, I went in to look at it. I understand that Carmen is a little girl with no arms or legs.”

 “She’s a great little kid,” Derek said. “I saw here on The Maury Povich Show and I’m trying to get in touch with her. She doesn’t have any arms or legs, but she still has a great attitude. I hope I can find her so I can meet her and try to help her out.”

“That’s really nice, Derek,” Gerry said. “And I don’t have a problem with having her name on your helmet. It’s the Hendu thing that could come back to haunt us. And I want you to know it’s nothing personal. We all like Hendu. He’s a helluva guy. But since he’s not here anymore, the press might try to say that you have a problem with Tommy McCraw. I know that’s not what you had in mind, but I’m afraid it will get in the paper and start a controversy. If you want to remember Hendu, maybe you might want to put his name under the bill of the helmet or something.”

Derek started laughing. “Is that all it is?” he said, genuinely relieved. “I guess they shouldn’t have written it so big. I’ll take it off. It’s no big deal.”

 And so, the meeting was short — and for me, sweet. I didn’t have to say a thing.

 

When I got back into the staff meeting, it was breaking up. I never did catch up with the workout plan, but I was pleased with the reaction to my speech. The gist of what I said was that I felt we had a good ballclub; Gerry had given me a great deal of versatility with his off-season moves; and I thought we could win the division with good pitching and a little luck.

“But I have to tell you,” I said, “that you are the guys who will decide our fate. Everyone is making a big deal of me being manager, but whether I’m good or bad doesn’t make half as much difference as your performance.”

I went on to explain that I was not a strong disciplinarian, and that I expected the players to police themselves. I said that the official practice jerseys, which some of the players didn’t like to wear, would be worn during regular workouts and that players could wear whatever they wanted when they came out for early work or stayed late.

Then I got to the heart of the matter.

“I am not a puppeteer,” I said, “and I refuse to treat you guys like puppets.” I held my hands out, palms down, and wiggled my fingers. “In recent years you guys have probably taken signs from the dugout for practically every move you made on the field. This is the modern trend. But I don’t want to take your individuality away from you. Instead, I want you to express yourself fully as a ballplayer. I want you to be able to think on your feet, to understand situations, to know when to take a risk and when to play it safe.

“This may take some time, but I believe we have some smart guys in this room and that we will ultimately have a better team if everyone plays heads-up rather than heads-in-the-dugout baseball. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

No one raised a hand.

“Okay, that’s good. Now I would like you meet the staff.

“Jim Duquette is our Director of Minor League Operations, and he will introduce you to some guys who will be working the big-league camp with us this spring.”

Jim gave each of the minor-league staff members a brief introduction. Then I turned the meeting over to our trainer, Dave Labossiere. Dave talked to the players about wearing helmets, shin guards, thumb guards, and the like. He then explained the procedure regarding using the training room for treatment of injuries.

Then I took the floor to introduce the big-league coaches.

“First, let me tell you about two guys we stole from the Mets,” I said.

“Mike Cubbage is our new third-base coach. Mike played ten years in the big leagues. He will give the signs and work with the infielders. Mike’s first hit in the majors was a grand slam. After that, his career went straight downhill.” I got a good laugh with that line.

“His minor-league managing career was terrific. In eight years, he won five championships and compiled a .600 winning percentage. For the last seven years, he has been on the coaching lines with the Mets. Mike is a winner. I’m glad to have him on my staff.

“I also feel proud to have Tom McCraw on board as hitting coach. Tommy played 14 years in the big leagues, and has been a hitting coach for the last 23 seasons. If you look at what the Mets hitters have done the last two years, you may realize that Tommy is not only an expert on hitting, but also an expert on teaching the art of hitting. I fully expect us to be one of the best-hitting teams in the league this year.”

As I surveyed the crowd, I knew that I had their attention. Ballplayers seldom know anything about the generations of players who came before them. I certainly didn’t know much about players of the Forties and Fifties, let alone players from the Thirties and before. When I started studying these players later as a broadcaster, I was amazed at some of their accomplishments. Now, it appeared, these players were impressed.

 “The next four guys are really special to me, for one reason: they have all been to the playoffs with the Astros, but have not been to the World Series. This is our goal. And it should be your goal. We will work as hard as we can to achieve this goal for ourselves, and for you.

“First, there is our bullpen coach, Alan Ashby. Ash caught for 17 years in the major leagues and was involved in all three playoffs the Astros have made. He has also caught some great pitchers, including Mike Scott and Nolan Ryan. He has caught three no-hitters, which is a major-league record. For the last three years, Alan has been managing in the minor leagues.

“Next, there is our pitching coach, Vern Ruhle. Vern pitched for 14 years in the big leagues, including the 1980 season when he took a spot in the rotation after J.R. Richard had a stroke. Vern went 12-4 that season to help lead the Astros to a division title.

“After his playing days were over, he finished his degree and coached at Cal State-Fullerton and the University of Oklahoma. During his six years with the Sooners, he went to the College World Series three times, and won it once. Vern is the studious type. I call him The Perfessor.

“All of you guys have probably heard of José Cruz. ‘Cheo’ is the greatest player ever to wear an Astros uniform. Bagwell and Biggio are pressing him now, but he still holds team records for hits, doubles, triples, and RBI. He was a .287 lifetime hitter, an All-Star, and he stole 303 bases. Cheo has a great, fun-loving personality. He will be our first-base coach and help Bill Virdon with the outfielders.

“And as for Bill Virdon, what can I say other than he is the best manager I ever played for, and I am proud to have him as my bench coach. Bill won the Rookie of the Year award in 1955. He has won the Gold Glove award and played on the world champion Pirates team of 1960.

“He has 13 years’ experience as a major-league manager. He has taken teams to the postseason four times, but is still looking for another World Series ring. Twice he has been voted Manager of the Year: once with the Astros. He knows what it takes to win in the Dome. And with more than 40 years of baseball experience, he knows what it takes to win, period. And as you can see, he is still in good enough shape to do the work.

 “What I am saying is that all of these guys are winners, and we expect you to be winners, too.”

After those million-dollar introductions, I asked for questions. There were none.

“Well, that’s enough talk for now,” I said. “We will have a few more meetings as we go along — some with the team and some with each of you as individuals. But talk is cheap, and it’s time to start the adventure which will become the 1997 season.

“We have a lot of new faces, and there is a lot of energy in this room. I encourage you to get to know your new teammates, as we will be spending the next six months together. But now it’s time to put our energy into action. Stretching will start on Field 3 in five minutes. Thank you.”

As the players started filing out, team president Tal Smith came over to me and asked, “Did you see the looks on their faces when you started listing the staff’s accomplishments? Their eyes were wide open. I think you really made your point.”

“Well,” I said, “that’s a good start. I think we got our foot in the door. But we still have to back it up with hard work. And I can’t wait to get started.”

           

I have been “roving” the workout stations this spring, spending a little time here and there as an interested observer. On this eventful day, I spent most of my time at the bunting station, delivering a sales pitch that went something like this:

I know you guys like to play an aggressive brand of baseball, and that bunting is not considered aggressive. But this year, I have a little twist in mind. When you get the bunt sign this year, you will be bunting for a hit, not a sacrifice. I have noticed that most players bunt better when they are trying to get a hit than they do when they square around to sacrifice. So I am not going to ask you to square around.

Instead, I want you to work on your bunting all spring, with the idea that you can raise your average 20 to 30 points if you become proficient. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the first- and third-basemen in this league have been playing deeper and farther off the line in recent years. They are basically giving you a hit, if you can lay down any kind of decent bunt.

Leading off an inning, this is a great strategy. And when there are men on base, it is doubly effective. If you get a good one down, you get a hit. If you fail to get a hit, you get a sacrifice, and so your average goes up, up, up.

We all know that the team that wins the low-scoring close games is often the team that wins championships. A bunt hit here and there will win those one-run games. And that is why we are going to practice bunting more than most teams. Not to go back to the old days, but to take advantage of opportunities. If they start playing us in close, we’ll just hit away.

 

The drill went better than I expected; most of the players showed some small measure of skill. Sean Berry was surprisingly good at it. Derek Bell was terrible, but he gave it a try. Even Jeff Bagwell gave it the old college try, and he did pretty well.

 

Speaking of Bagwell, he had a long day. Early this morning, before the workout, he was taping a promotional spot for Fox. A cameraman was stationed down the third-base line, protected by two sheets of plywood. Bagwell was hitting line drives all over the place, and he just happened to hit one right between the sheets of plywood and over the television lens.

The ball hit the cameraman right below the nose, and just about knocked him out. The shoot was interrupted, and the man was taken to the hospital for X-rays. Turned out he had a hairline fracture and a chipped tooth. Jeff felt bad about it, but not that bad. After all, it was an accident.

In the end, he did have to pay penance. Fox had to shoot the rest of the spot after the workout, and Jeff had to cancel his golf date.