Posing Uncle BobChapter 3
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After the talk with Sarah I resolved to be as sensitive as possible with Peggy about my long absences, and to try to reassure here constantly, just in case what her mother had told me was the true reason for Peggy’s strange behavior.
I still found it a little hard to believe. Peggy was intelligent and pretty swift on the uptake. She had a great sense of humor and when we were together, there was no sign of any attitude except warmth. Maybe my trade to Norfolk while the Braves were on the road was a little bit abrupt, but surely my explanation at the time was clear enough.
It was all troubling. But for now, I couldn’t do much about it if I wanted to make a living as a ballplayer. I was going to be away from Lawrenceville into October. And if the Orioles could snag a wild card, I’d be away longer.
I really wanted to be with Peggy, but I was living the dream, man. I was in the big leagues! Bench-sitting, mostly, but getting into games occasionally when Paul allowed Josh Brennan to play left field. It helped that one of our remaining regular outfielders was a weak hitter against lefties, and Paul Warren was starting to bench him in favor of Brennan -- leaving me to be the DH for Josh’s outfield starts.
Brennan was friendly and, knowing I had a big stake in his future, had started giving me the play-by-play on his negotiations. “We’re close to a deal!” he told me one night on the bench between innings. “They’re going to give me a five-year contract. And it’ll provide that I get at least 125 ‘appearances’ on defense every year, barring injuries.”
“Appearances?”
“Yeah. An ‘appearance’ is defined as a defensive start that continues for six innings or more. They can take me out of the lineup before the end of the sixth, but if they do, that game doesn’t count as an appearance.”
“The way you hit, Josh, they’d be nuts to pull you out of a game after six.”
“Well, I guess they’re afraid I’ll really screw things up in left field. Anyway, if we were way ahead late in a game, they might want some gazelle out there to take my place.”
“So what happens if you don’t get into 125 games -- on the field?”
“I have a right to become a free agent, then and there. Well, no, not really ... But at the end of that season.”
“Damn!”
“There’s some stuff about injury time, and so on. But what it boils down to, if the Orioles agree to it, I’m here for five years more as their starting left fielder. Or if left field doesn’t pan out, they can play me someplace else, but they gotta play me somewhere. Maybe first base.”
“You’ve played first before.”
“Yeah. Not all that well. But I’ve been working. I’m going to work all winter on my defense. You’re gonna be surprised, next season.”
“If you finally sign, it looks like maybe I’ve got a job here next year, too.”
“They really like you, Marty! And I heard Zeke tell Paul Warren that he thought you were a natural.”
“No shit? Zeke the Streak said that?”
“I shit you not! ... But Zeke also said, ‘just keep that big lummox out of my outfield!”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like something Zeke would say.”
“Naw. You’re right. He didn’t say that. I just made that last part up ... but I bet ol’ Zeke was thinking it!”
It was big news the last week in September when Josh Brennan’s five-year contract was announced. The press wanted to know what Paul Warren thought about a player dictating how he would be used on the field -- and for five years at that.
Paul Warren didn’t make any fuss. “Any manager would be overjoyed to know that he had Josh’s bat in his lineup every day. If Josh wants to get more opportunities to show what he can do as an outfielder, we’re ready to work with him to make that possible. He’s already shown me how hard he’ll work to improve his defense, and I know he’s going to keep at it all winter, improving it more.”
“But, don’t you think whether he plays left field should be your decision, as manager?”
“Yes, I do. If he hits .265 next year on the season -- tyhat’s the average, this season, for all the guys who’ve played in the outfield for us. All of them. And I decide which three men I put out there, every day. Only, Josh Brennan doesn’t hit .265, gentlemen -- and lady -- I see you back there, Delores. Josh is hitting .382, right this minute, with seven regular season games left for us. And last year, Josh hit 377 and won his third consecutive batting title. You know who’s ahead of him, batting average? This season? Nobody, that’s who.
“So if Josh tells me he wants to play left field and that he’s going to work hard to get better on defense, well, I believe it. But, next year, if he does hit .265 and can’t throw a runner out at second trying to stretch a single, well, then it says in his new contract that the Orioles can just let him go -- let him become a free agent. And if he’s hitting below par in April or May, there’s nothing to prevent my benching him and preventing him from getting in those 125 appearances -- if I am fool enough to do that.
“I just don’t think any of that stuff is gonna happen, people!”
“What about the new guy? Marty Coggins?”
“Marty’s in line to become our new DH. He’s already shown he can hit up here. I’m hoping to be able to pencil him into the lineup next season, every day.”
“Coggins doesn’t hit for average like Brennan.”
“Well, who does, Clyde? Marty Coggins can hit, and he adds power. I know we’ve already got a lot of power, but nobody ever turns down a good bat.”
“I hear Coggins hasn’t got a glove.”
“He’s got a glove,” Paul Warren told the reporters, flashing the smallest of smiles. “I know he does. I saw it once.”
Paul Warren really did seem comfortable with Josh’s new deal, but with the pennant race still alive, he didn’t jump the gun and use Josh in left field most days that final week in September. For the seven remaining games, Josh was the designated hitter in five of them.
I was the DH in two games against lefty starters, and I got up as a pinch hitter late in three other games. In one, I struck out, and in the others, I got a sacrifice fly and an RBI double. I did okay in the two games I played as DH, too. I made a little contribution, here and there. In my seven weeks with the big club, I hit .272 with two homers.
We squeezed into the post-season as the second wild card, and met Houston -- in Houston -- for the one-game play-in game to qualify for the ALDS.
The Oriole bats stayed hot and we scored nine runs, including two two-run homers. Josh went three-for-four -- all singles.
I didn’t play.
We lost, 11-9 when our beat-up bullpen collapsed in the late going.
Just like that, it was all over for the season.
It was October 6, my season was over, and all I needed to do was fly back to Baltimore, gather up my gear, pack the CR-V and head for Lawrenceville. Not going deeper -- much deeper -- into the post-season was a disappointment. The guys who had been with the Birds for the entire season, contending the whole time, probably took it harder than I did.
My own very real disappointment was mixed with relief that at least now I could head back and try to make Peggy Gabriel’s lingering doubts about our future go away.
I called while Peggy was at work late that night. We hadn’t yet left Houston. It would be hours before Peggy would be home, but I wanted to leave the word: I’d be leaving Baltimore by car before noon Saturday, and expected to be there before Peggy got home from work in the wee hours Sunday morning.
Alma
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