Posted on 07/27/2002 10:47:32 AM PDT by BluesDuke
Right now, in the real world, so-called, Mike DeJean would have - at minimum - a few days' unpaid R and R whenever it pleased him to be, so long as it was not the Milwaukee Brewers' clubhouse, dugout, or bullpen. That is what you or I would get if we had resisted or refused the boss's orders absent a verifiable breach of ethics or conflict of interest. Especially if we had chosen anyplace except behind closed doors to tell the boss off while we were at it.
Some dare call DeJean's Wednesday night whoop insubordination.
DeJean came in to pitch the bottom of the ninth against the Houston Astros with perhaps a little frustration allowance. The Brewers had had a season's record better than only the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, and DeJean's 43 relief gigs had only nineteen save opportunities and sixteen saves out of 38 game finishes for him. But here they were in Houston, bringing a 12-7 lead to the bottom of the ninth, and here was DeJean where he wanted to be, poised to close it out on the plus side.
The Astros had plans of their own, however. Catcher Gregg Zaun reached on an error by Brewers' left fielder Matt Stairs. Jose Vizcaino, pinch hitting for relief pitcher T. J. Mathews, singled to center, pushing Zaun to second, then shortstop Julio Lugo singled the bases loaded. Up stepped Craig Biggio, whose fielder's choice grounder to third erased Vizcaino but scored Zaun before Lance Berkman singled the bases loaded once again - with Jeff Bagwell licking his chops on deck.
Out of the dugout strode Brewers manager Jerry Royster, with Luis Vizcaino warming up in the bullpen. "And he's going to make a pitching change," purred Brewers' announcer Bob Uecker on the air as Royster arrived at the mound. And then it happened. "Mike DeJean and Jerry Royster are having words at the mound," Uecker intoned. "Ohhh, my goodness. My goodness. That is terrible, folks...Wow. The manager and the pitcher having words at the mound. My, oh my."
The Minute Maid Field crowd, all 26,755 of them, were already cheering the Astros' rally, but the unexpected floor show by the visiting pitcher and manager amplified their pleasure. DeJean and Royster went at it anywhere between 30 seconds and a full minute, before DeJean finally handed over the ball and fumed his way to the dugout. On television, it seemed DeJean had a final word for Royster, to which Royster seemed to respond with the last word - both of which are known, only too commonly, as a euphemism for that which transpires between husband and wife in intimate, out-of-view hours.
Royster finally had the ball to hand to Luis Vizcaino, and Vizcaino handed his manager just about the only salve that would have worked after that kind of storm. Vizcaino got Bagwell to pop out to first and struck out Daryl Ward swinging to nail what some feared was about to qualify for the endangered species list: a Brewers win.
DeJean hastened to say after the game that he was sorry if Royster thought he was showing up the boss. The word is that Royster has disciplined DeJean, though he did not and may not reveal precisely how, and that the Brewers are not inclined to trade DeJean.
The pitcher should be grateful that his manager is willing to keep his punishment behind closed doors, considering how he tried punishing his manager in the middle of a rollicking baseball audience for the heinous crime of trying to win a ball game. These are not the Arizona Diamondbacks with wins to burn, and DeJean is not Byung-Hyun Kim who has a proven enough record of staying the course and earning the W after he starts with losing the save.
And let us have no nonsense about "the athlete with that adrenalin flowing" who just got lost in the competition's ruptured moment. Let an office manager, an auto mechanic, an accountant at tax time, an office lawyer in a criminal trial, or even a journalist approaching a tight deadline, plead the ol' adrenalin flow made him ream the boss a new one in front of all the colleagues (and visitors, if any). They will hear something behind closed doors: Don't let the you-know-what hit you in the you-know-where on the way you-know where.
Don Drysdale was the guy you strapped into the guerney when adrenalin donors were needed. When he got jumped in Game One of the 1965 World Series, he had only one comment for manager Walter Alston arriving with the hook: "I bet you wish I was the Jewish guy taking today off because it's Yom Kippur instead." A Seattle Pilots (the Brewers' single-season American League ancestor) pitcher, getting shot down in an unconscionable barrage, saying upon his manager's arrival at the mound: "What kept you?" Tug McGraw, New York Mets pitcher, getting shellacked enough that manager Casey Stengel finally came out.
"Let me stay in, Skip," pleaded the youthful McGraw. "I know I can get the next guy out. I've gotten him out twice already."
"I know," replied the Ol' Perfesser. "But you did it in this inning."
And, speaking of Casey Stengel, there was Boom-Boom Beck.
Walter Beck, pitcher, 1934 Brooklyn Dodgers, was the doctor to whom ailing batting orders repaired for a cure to whatever ailed them, and rarely did Dr. Beck disappoint his patients or let them hang. It was what he did let hang that proved therapeutic, especially when he made house calls, a case in point being one he made in Philadelphia's Baker Bowl.
The Phillies were much in need of such medicine (they were actually in need of reconstructive surgery, but never mind) and they practically overdosed on Dr. Beck's pills. Their bats went boom! and Beck's pitches flew until they went boom! off Baker Bowl's infamous tin-sheeted outfield wall, and the happiest man in the ballpark when manager Stengel finally crabwalked to the mound to life the good doctor had to be right fielder Hack Wilson.
It is hard enough playing a sun-bathed outfield position with a standard hangover. Try it when you are chasing too many line drives clanging off a high, hot tin wall. The former Chicago Cubs star, who seemed bent by then on drinking himself into oblivion, bent down into a crouch and let his broiling head fall softly into his hands, Stengel at the mound providing time for a badly-needed respite. Casey taking the ball, a new pitcher taking the leisurely stroll in to the mound, and he needs to take those warmup tosses...this, to Hammered Hack, simply had to be heaven...
Boom-boom!
Yet another ball clanged off the high tin wall behind him. Never let it be said that his broiling by the booze kept Hack Wilson from knowing his job no matter how cooked he still felt. He snapped to, almost immediately, spinning his body around in a snap, playing the carom as though he had done this kind of thing in his sleep (which he probably wished was now the case, anyway), and fired a strike in to second base that would have killed any incoming baserunner dead.
If he had fielded a batted ball, that is.
Wilson learned the hard way that he had made the play of the season on a thrown ball. Beck had hollered "No!" when Casey Stengel ordered him to hand the ball over; then, the angry pitcher winged it all the way back to the tin wall.
Dr. Boom-Boom's tantrum did not go unpunished. Managers in those years having liberal trade authority, Casey had no shyness about using it, even to rid a second-division club of an insubordinate. Well enough before season's end, the Perfesser traded Beck. His new team must have pondered the large clanging dents coming in to shrink the team slugging and batting average and felt as though Stengel had violated the Eighth Amendment at their expense.
"Why us?" wondered the Phillies.
Perhaps Jerry Royster wished, for even a moment Wednesday night, that he had similar trading authority, even if the Brewers said they were not inclined to trade DeJean. Royster could have pondered trading DeJean to today's Phillies, whose incumbent manager has been accused of many things that do not include suffering fools or fly-acting relief pitchers gladly. Just try to imagine Larry Bowa marching DeJean back to the dugout, after pulling a Boom-Boom Beck on his watch, and trying to take off the edge Stengel style.
"If I'da known you could throw that hard," Casey said to the Boomer, "I'da left you in there."
I couldn't imagine it, either.
"There's no issues for me,'' Jerry Royster was quoted as saying. "Mike DeJean is a great kid, I've always liked him. We've always been friends, we'll always be friends. It happens to every team. We weren't shoving each other. Everybody has been in situations like this.''
"Having a little kid, it really worries me that some kids can see this and are going to see this,'' said DeJean, himself a father. "Hopefully, they will ask their parents about it. It bothers me a lot.''
Apparently, flagrant insubordination - absent a prospective breach of ethics, conflict of interest, or rules violation; and, in full public view, yet - has become a mere aberration rather than an attack. Just the ol' adrenalin, folks, think nothing of it.
DeJean should count himself lucky that a few thousand dollars, maybe, out of his bank account are all he has to worry about. Royster should worry even more. His respect as manager has been breached. I can name you managers who would run your behind out of town in a New York minute for disobeying orders - even if you might be a prospective Hall of Famer.
And they will not always be as kind about it as Casey Stengel to Boom-Boom Beck.
It was A-Rod's 2nd homer of the night and his major-league leading 34th of the year. My lands, he is a great player.
The manger should have used the script from Little Big League .....
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.