RMJ 29 March 15

SATURDAY, MARCH 15 ● Plant City, vs Cincinnati

Today we went to Plant City one way and came back another. It was a good day on the ballfield, but another tough day in the dugout. Actually, the manager and coaches usually sit on folding chairs outside the dugout on the home-plate side. This is done to accommodate the extra players at spring training, where most of the dugouts are rather small.

This day, I sat in the dugout because my antibiotic medicine specified that I stay out of the sun. I’ve had plenty of sun this spring, anyway. Since I was still feeling pekid, I opted for shade.

 

Just before the game, Barry Waters called to ask if I would like to join Drayton for dinner, and bring the coaches along. I told him I didn’t know; “I’ll be happy to go if I feel better,” I said. “But right now, I’m not feeling too swift.”

The game took me up and down. We took an early lead, gave it up, and then got it back and held it. About halfway through, I motioned for Drayton to come down, and I declined the invitation. 

Our AAA catcher, Eric Christopherson, got the big comeback hit, a two-run homer. I was really happy for him, because he has done an awful lot of catching this spring without getting many innings in the games. Brad Ausmus has done most of the work, because he needs to learn our pitching staff. Tony Eusebio has caught most of the rest of the innings, because he needs to get his mitt and bat ready for the big-league season.

And Randy Knorr, who was with us in the second half last year and served well, has done the rest of the work behind the plate. We dropped Randy off the roster this fall. I know it was a blow to him, but he has still returned with a good attitude, and he gives us great catching insurance. Though he has never hit a lot, his defense is excellent.          

           

One of the things the catchers find curious this spring is the lack of signs from the dugout. On most teams, the catcher gets a sign on every pitch; I expect them to think for themselves.

If I want the pitcher to hold a particular runner, I point at the runner. If I want a pitchout, I use one sign; if I want to pitch up, I use another. If the pitcher wants to hold a runner on his own, he can. If the catcher wants the pitcher to throw to a base, he can give him a signal on his own. We have no five-step program for holding runners.

I guess I’m just an old-fashioned guy.

The pitch up is a new idea, however, and I have been unable to communicate what I want on this pitch. Basically, it is a pitchout that the batter might swing at: letter-high, right down the middle. This type of pitch gives the catcher a good shot at throwing out a base-stealer. And because many hitters look for a fastball when a larcenous runner is on base, it also gives the pitcher a chance for a one-pitch out. When a decent four-seam fastball is letter-high, it is difficult to hit it anywhere but straight up in the air.

In this game, Russ Springer threw a fastball down-and-in when he got the sign. The runner had a running lead on the pitch. Even if we had pitched out, the runner would have been safe without sliding. When you are pitching out, you must stop the runner and deliver the pitch to the catcher quickly. Russ should have learned this in high school.

On the next pitch, he threw a letter-high fastball and the hitter swung and missed. We probably would have thrown the runner out if he had pitched up to begin with.

Later on, Trever Miller threw a pitch up so high that the catcher had to jump to catch it.

To me, this is a simple concept, and it should be easy to execute. It has been just the opposite.

             

After the game, we learned that our bus driver had backed into a pole at the stadium as he was positioning for the trip home. This maneuver rendered the bus inoperable. I offered to take two of the coaches who came over on the bus, and I called the press box to see if any writers or broadcasters were still around. Luckily there were, and I arranged rides for seven players. I wasn’t about to choose which players should stay and which should go.

“You’re on your own,” I said. The new bus would come from Orlando, and it would be an hour-and-a-half wait.

 

When I got home, I wasn’t feeling good at all. I lay in bed and read my book, Beach Music, hoping to fall asleep. I awakened to the telephone, and it was Judy. She and Ryan were in Fort Worth, and his team had won its first two games in a tournament.

Ryan’s excitement rang though the phone lines as he gave me the play-by-play account. He didn’t pitch, but he was on base four times in six at-bats. Tomorrow, he will toe the mound.

Judy was excited and distressed. She was up for the team, but down for our Rottweiler, Zeus. Zeus had taken to snarling and snapping, and he even bit one of our neighbors who was feeding him while we were spending Christmas with my parents in Los Angeles.

Our daughter Julia brought Zeus home one day. We didn’t really want a Rottweiler, but he was cute and Ryan loved him. We all grew fond of him, but he had grown to be a powerful adult dog.

We took him to several places for evaluation. The verdict went against him, and she had to put him down.

“I feel a lot better because Dr. Sean told me we had done all we could,” she said. “He made me stay with him, so I could see that it was painless, but it was still sad.” 

 

I felt enough better after the phone call to go out for dinner. I went to sleep early, but I woke up often for piss call. Didn’t do much leaking, but I sure felt the urge a lot.