RMJ 11 February 25

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 25 ● Kissimmee

Photo day at the ballpark. I don’t know how long this drill has been in the spring-training package, but it was great. It was at least as good as the stimulated game, if I do say so.

Starting at 8 o’clock, players and staff members reported to Station 1 to get their white home jerseys on a first-come, first-served basis. Station 2 was for the Houston Chronicle; Station 3 for the Associated Press; Station 4 for The Sporting News; Station 5 for Baseball America; and so forth. There were about 15 stations in all, and it only took about 15 minutes to run the gauntlet.

I was talking with some of the coaches when it all began, and I didn’t get started until about 8:40, when almost everyone else had finished. When our staff meeting started at 9:00, I was there to open the discussion.

 

After we reviewed the procedures for the stimulated game — which Cubby had labeled the “simulated” game in the workout itinerary (some things die hard) — we turned to signs and procedures for pickoff plays.

This stimulated a lively debate.

There are several ways to do these plays. The plays the infielders generally prefer are different from the ones the pitchers are comfortable using.

Matt Galante and our minor-league infield and baserunning coach, Dickie Thon, demonstrated their favored techniques for the “daylight” play. That’s where the shortstop shows his glove to the pitcher (bare hand, in the case of the second-baseman) and the pitcher turns and throws to the bag, or just fakes a throw.

As a former pitcher, I wasn’t sold on their routines, and I explained why. The main reason was that I was uncertain as to when I should throw the pitch.

As a pitcher, I am most concerned with the batter. I want to have some sort of rhythm when I deliver; I want to know for sure when I can go home with the ball. With an infielder juking back and forth and throwing his glove or hand out at any moment, I am uncertain as to when I should pitch.

More than once, I started to pitch just as the infielder gained advantage and raced for the bag (the “daylight” part of the play). This left a gaping hole on one side of the infield as the pitch crossed the plate. Over the years I have seen this play backfire many times.

“There’s a way you can solve that problem,” said Steve Swisher. We were teammates in spring training 1977 in St. Petersburg with the Cardinals. I was released late that spring, so we never got to know each other well. But I liked him then, and I felt a certain uneasiness about him now.

In the few days we have spent together, he has proven to be a hard-working and eager member of

our coaching team, but also quite intense. I sensed that Swish (nicknamed because of his surname, rather than his hitting problem), like a lot of other coaching veterans, seemed a little bitter about the way big-league jobs were handed out.

Maybe it was just my imagination; maybe it was the insecurity that comes when you don’t know the basic procedures of running a workout. Whatever the reason, I felt a little more friction with him than with some of the other coaches. This time, he came to the rescue.

“This is how we did it last year,” he said as he stepped into an open area to demonstrate. “The shortstop comes in close behind the runner, like this. Then he breaks one of three ways. Back to his position; toward second; or toward third. If he backs off, the pitcher throws the pitch. If he goes to second, the pitcher turns and throws, as in the daylight play. If the shortstop crosses over and runs toward third, it’s the wheel play or the pickoff with the second baseman, depending on which play is on.”

It was elegant, simple, foolproof, and had a good chance to succeed.

The best part was, the pitcher would have a clear idea of what he was supposed to do in each instance. There should be no mixup with this method.

I liked it. So did most of the staff. There were a few more questions, and then we decided that we would go with it.

I was really beginning to feel good about this staff. They weren’t shy about expressing themselves, but they didn’t seem set in their own ways.

 

During stretching and throwing, I was asked to do some interviews for a New York-based cable show on baseball. The crew set up on Field 3, and we did the deed in about 15 minutes. When I drifted over to a pitchers fielding drill, I noticed that the crew was interviewing some of the players. They had not moved from their initial location, and they now were in harm’s way.

After the workout, I told our PR man, Rob Matwick, that we had the potential for another injury. He said he would try to keep them off the fields in the future.

It’s always something.

And lately, it’s been too much “me” for my liking. I know my hiring has novelty value, and I know I can’t dictate the news. But I wish I could redirect the attention to the players. Bagwell and Biggio are probably glad I am getting the treatment they usually have to endure. And truthfully, I don’t mind, because I think I can put a positive spin on the Houston Astros.

Still, I will be glad when this runs its course.

 

Today’s stimulated game ran like clockwork. Everyone, except some of the abused pitchers, was happy with the results.

Tom McCraw, who was working the extra men on the other field, was particularly pleased. “We’re getting some good work in,” he told me when I asked. “I’m really making some progress with (Brad) Ausmus.”

I noticed that Strech Suba was shagging balls for Tommy, using a golf cart to move around the outfield.

“Could Stretch keep up with you?” I asked.

“Damn right,” he replied. “It was a thing of beauty.”

           

The highlight of the day was still to come. It was a night game, so to speak. It was a Parrot Head extravaganza, featuring Jimmy Buffett. Our plan was to rent a limo and have it pick us up at one of the all-time Parrot Head dives: The Big Bamboo. We were to go backstage and meet the star and present him with an Astros jersey with his name on the back and the number A-1-A (after the famous highway in Florida).

“We” consisted of my old boss, Jamie Hildreth; our traveling secretary, Barry Waters; and Rob Matwick. At the last minute, Houston Chronicle columnist Fran Blineberry secured a ticket from the paper’s music writer, and he came along. Fran, Jamie, and I were Parrot Heads from way back. Rob and Barry are too young to go all the way back to the early 1970s, and they are not quite beachy folks, but they were up to the occasion.            

As it turned out, we didn’t get the limo, because it was going to cost $500. Buffett was not in a great preconcert mood. It was the end of his tour, and he probably felt like we do at the end of a long trip at the end of the season. Mike Utley, his road manager, took the jersey to him, but Buffett never came back to grant us an audience.

Nonetheless, it was a terrific night. Food and beverages were complimentary backstage, and the concert was typically great. I suppose the Florida audience picked the old boy’s spirits up. He was a little pudgier than the last time I saw him, and a little thinner up top. But he still came on with the energy of a swashbuckling pirate, and the charm of a devilish child.

When he launched into Fins near the end of the first set, we all jumped up and joined in. After a 15-minute break, he got up and went for another hour and a half.

As we left the arena, I asked Jamie if he had an address for Mike. I had an invitation in mind for Jimmy if I had a chance to see him.

In one of his songs, I’m Growing Older But Not Up, he says

 

I’m no Pete Rose, I can’t pretend

 

In another, he says,

 

I never had the clout to knock one out

When hitting was the name of the game

Standing on third as the coaches conferred

Next to my real claim to fame

Just give me the steal sign

And I’ll make home plate mine

And I’ll make sparks fly around your head

 

Well, my line was going to be

 

Look, I know you’re no Pete Rose

And I know you don’t have the clout to knock one out

But if you want to steal home,

Just strap on your A-1-A jersey

And report to one of our exhibition games

And I’ll arrange the theft.

 

It may be hard to get it together in the short time we will be here in Florida, but perhaps I will last out the year and we will pull off the heist next spring.