Monday's Bunts and Boots

I was disappointed—but not necessarily surprised—by Sweet Lou Piniella’s tirade at a postgame press conference on Friday afternoon. I’m not sure why managers feel motivated to act like their auditioning for the part of Frank Burns, especially after fielding a relatively innocuous (though simplistic) question from a reporter as Piniella did on Friday. I would love to see a writer throw down the gauntlet at one of these temper tantrums and tell the manager something like, "Why don't you stop acting like a child, and just try to answer the question in a civil manner." Or how nice would it be to see a reporter throw a clipboard and walk out of a press conference? Just once.

I remember years ago when I had to interview Herb Brooks (a great coach, but not the nicest gentleman) after a loss and he practically broke my tape recorder with a swat of his hand. And this was after a question posed by another reporter.

Having said all of that, I’m a big fan of Piniella as a manager, and generally admire the fire and passion that he brings to the dugout. But when he acts the way that he did at that postgame press conference, he comes across as a bully and a bore. He’s better than that…

Perhaps it’s time for Carl Pavano to give the left arm a try. It’s become painfully obvious that he a) can’t keep his right arm healthy under any circumstances; b) has no threshold for pain; or c) just isn’t all that interested in pitching. Or maybe the Yankees have just become too cautious with their pitchers. Every time a pitcher complains of a "twinge," the Yankees’ first reaction is to summon the dreaded 15-day disabled list. The Yankees have been able to overcome this policy throughout the new millennium, but I wonder if this might be the year that the DL default reaction costs them a trip to the postseason…

The Hall of Fame staged a nice event over the weekend, celebrating the 40^th anniversary of the 1967 "Impossible Dream." While the Hall couldn’t lure the sheer numbers of ’67 Red Sox that the Boston organization hosted on Opening Day, the Hall did provide a forum for some intelligent and in-depth discussion with two of the team’s most prominent players—Rico Petrocelli and Jim Lonborg. Petrocelli informed the media of a bizarre note from his career. Every major league team showed interest in signing him as an amateur, except for the Mets and the Yankees. Petrocelli found that especially strange, especially considering his status as a native of Brooklyn. While I’ve interviewed the affable Petrocelli before, this was the first time I’ve ever met Lonborg. Now I know why he’s nicknamed "Gentleman Jim." Lonborg is soft-spoken, polite, and thoughtful to the extreme. Given those qualities, it’s no surprise that Dr. Lonborg has achieved as much success as he has in the dental field.

An underrated part of the ’67 reunion was a roundtable discussion featuring a number of baseball authors who have written about the Impossible Dream. One of the authors, Saul Wisnia, provided an interesting nugget about former Sox second baseman Mike Andrews. During the ’67 season, Andrews and several other American League second basemen actually received death threats from a disturbed fan. The fan was apparently a deranged admirer of Twins second baseman Rod Carew who didn’t want any other second basemen in the league to receive similar recognition.