RMJ 20 March 6

THURSDAY, MARCH 6 ● Kissimmee, vs Dodgers

Today, the Dodgers came calling. I have had the most intimate relations with this team; they were my childhood favorites. Vin Scully was the narrator of my secret dreams.

Growing up in LA, I became accustomed to championships: the Dodgers, the Lakers, USC in football — and especially, UCLA in basketball. Even the Rams made the playoffs most of the time.

When I got to Houston, I found that championships were not traditional. And for most of my baseball life, I have looked up at the Dodgers, rather than look up to them.

In my pitching prime, it was the Dodgers or the Reds who were favored every year. We knew we couldn’t beat them when we got to spring training. The Reds were a blue-collar outfit, but the Dodgers were strictly Hollywood.

I hated them.

When the Astros finally got to the playoffs in 1980, it was by beating the Dodgers in their own stadium in the 163rd — and final — game of the year. That was sweet redemption. I have not felt such keen animosity for them since. But that doesn’t mean I like them.

Would I like to have been one of them? Maybe so. But going against them was always emotional for me.

I beat Sandy Koufax 3-0 in 1966. After that, I never beat them in my home town, though I beat them a few times in the Dome.

Now Tommy Lasorda has given way to a contemporary of mine: Bill Russell. Russell is a class act. It’s hard to get really mad at the Dodgers now. But it would still be sweet to beat them — even in an exhibition game.

Unfortunately, this one ended in a 12-inning tie.

 

Before the game, Bagwell, Biggio, and I got together for a photo shoot. It was for the cover of Baseball Weekly. Wow! I had made the big time. The photographer must have taken more than 100 shots. Hope he got one right.

I wasn’t in my most smiling mood, because while we were walking over to the shoot, Jeff told me that Derek Bell was once again talking about how he didn’t want to play center field.

“If he doesn’t want to play it, he’s not going to play it well,” he said. I had to agree.

When I got back to the clubhouse, I called Gerry about the situation. Gerry came down to talk it over with Derek, and then came by to visit with me.

“He’s feeling a lot of pressure, for whatever reason,” Gerry said.  “He told me if we would just leave him alone and let him play, he would be all right.”         

I sensed this was an indirect attack on Bill Virdon, and I suggested that we all get together and talk about it after the game.

In the meantime, Doug Supernaw, the country-and-western singer, had entered the locker room. Apparently he is friendly with some of our players. Biggio introduced me to him, and he asked if Doug could sit on the bench for the game.

I was getting a little testy, but I didn’t let it show. “Let me check with Gerry,” I said.

Earlier, I had noticed that Bagwell, Bell, and Biggio were not doing the stretching and running that precede each of our workouts. They were just standing around and talking, while all the other players were participating in the program.

When I called Gerry, I said, “These guys are just like little kids. They’re always testing you. First, they want to drive their own cars to the road games. They get permission once, because they say that they want to leave early and work out with weights. I give them permission the first time, and the second time they don’t ask; they just do it.”

I have no doubt that they actually will lift weights, but I have my doubts as to whether they will serve the team better by building big biceps or by being around to set an example for the younger players. So this is the moment I chose to make a small stand.

I called Bagwell and Biggio into my office and said, “I talked to Gerry, and Doug can sit in the dugout for a few innings. But we can’t start letting everyone’s friends suit up for the game. I hope you understand.

“On another subject, I have noticed that you guys don’t like to do the stretching and running at the beginning of practice. This bothers me.

“It’s not so much that I think you are lazy, or that I am afraid you won’t be ready for the season. I know both of you will play your asses off all year long for me. But what you are doing now undermines my authority.

“Put yourself in my shoes. You’re a rookie manager, and you’re trying to establish the authority of your leadership. The three biggest stars on the team don’t participate in group exercises. The guys who were on the team last year know what kind of effort you give all year long; but what about the new guys — the rookies, the minor-leaguers, the guys who came over in trades? What do they think?”

Biggio broke out in a big smile. “You got me there,” he said. “Guilty as charged. I see what you’re saying. It won’t happen again.”

“Is that all it is?” Bagwell asked.

“That’s it,” I said.

“Okay, you got it. Fair is fair.”

“I hope you guys understand,” I said. “I can do a lot of things to make spring training easier for you, because I am fully aware of the toll the regular season will take. But I really feel that my credibility and the credibility of the new staff is critical this year.

“We all want the same thing. And we’re not going to get it if we’re not all together.”

I felt better as they left. I think they did too.

One thing I learned with my second daughter, Julia, is that sometimes the ones who resist discipline the most are the ones who need to have the boundaries and limits the most. 

This is a hard thing for me, because it’s not my nature to give advice to people who can pretty well take care of themselves.

Derek Bell is a different story. I decided that while I was hot, I would try my hand with him too. I found him in the training room.

 “Hey, D,” I said. “I just talked with Bags and Bidge about the stretching. They told me that they were holding you up in a rap session when you were wanting to do the work. Don’t let them pull that shit on you anymore. You just be your own man.”

Derek gave me a quizzical look. “What d’you mean,” he asked.

Just then it occurred to me that they were probably talking about center field.

 “I’m kidding,” I said. “But I did talk to them about the stretching and running. You know, all the young guys look up to you guys, and they probably think when they get to the big leagues they don’t have to do the work anymore.

“I know how hard you play, but these guys don’t. Anyway, they said they’d give me a little better effort, and I hope you will too.”

Derek laughed. “You saw what we were doing?” he said.

“I saw it.”

“That’s cool,” he said. “Okay, I see what you mean.”

It wasn’t really such a big confrontation, but it was my first attempt to mold the team by working on the stars. I thought they all took it well, and I felt pretty good about it. But I still didn’t know if I have a centerfielder.

           

After the game, that very subject was addressed. Bill and Gerry joined me in my office.

Gerry was upfront and direct, as usual. He said that Derek told him he could play center if everyone (meaning Bill) would just leave him alone and let him play. He told me that when he was in San Diego, he was fine in center. Nobody bothered him, and he just did his job.

I was thinking that if he had done his job so well in San Diego, he wouldn’t be playing for us.

Bill said, “Nobody has been bothering him, as far as I know. I do insist that he does his work, but that hasn’t been a problem. He works hard. I haven’t even said anything to him about the plays he’s messed up. In fact, I have gone out of my way to compliment him on his good plays.”

“Well, maybe there’s something else behind it. Maybe he wants his buddy Thomas Howard to play center; I don’t know. It has to be something other than what he’s been saying. I mean, for him to say he’s uncomfortable? I’ve never known anyone more comfortable than he is. Easy come, easy go, you know what I mean?”

“I know, but I also know my daughter Julia,” I said. She wakes up in a new world every day. And I think Derek is a lot like that. He can’t put his mind to a long-term task and stick with it. He has a different impulse every day. And he’s completely impulsive. One day it’s this thing; one day it’s that.

“He’s not a bad guy, but he’s not a dedicated guy, either. I think we have to keep pumping him up. I mean, let’s face it: if he plays center, we have all sorts of other options. If he goes back to right, we’re somewhat limited as to what we can do with the rest of the outfielders. And we still don’t have a pure centerfielder. What do you think, Bill?”

“The only two guys I see with the ability to play center are Derek and Richard [Hidalgo],” Bill said. “I still think he can do it, but he has to want to do it.”

 “Well, let’s stay the course,” Gerry said. “If we all keep encouraging him, it might work. If it doesn’t, he can always play right.”

 

I left a little drained; it had been a long day. But I wasn’t finished yet.

A group of 21 men from our church in Houston were at the game. They wanted to have dinner, and I had already agreed to join them. As it turned out, this was an island of calm in a sea of trouble. We laughed a lot, and we took many photographs.