I'd begun to warm to the idea under somewhat morbid circumstances. The sad news that Bobby Bonds lost his battle with cancer sent me scurrying to that desk in search of my autographs from the 1986 Cactus League. Not once in the ensuing 17 years have I seen those signatures, but suddenly I knew exactly where they were: within an Oakland A's spring training program near the bottom of my photo drawer, wedged between an elementary school yearbook (c. 1978) and a handful of piano recital programs (c. 1980-1983), beneath dozens of envelopes ful of blurry photos of spectacular mountain scenery (crimes against nature, to be sure).
Bonds was the hitting coach of the Cleveland Indians that particular spring, when my father took my brother and me down to Phoenix. Watching the Indians, A's, Angels, Giants, and Mariners, we saw six games over the weekend, including a split-squad game and an Arizona State one. I took some photos, got some signatures, had a fleeting brush with Reggie Jackson, and even spoke to Lenn Sakata.
Somewhere in there, I vaguely recall getting Bonds' autograph. But when I first looked through the program, I couldn't ID it among some two dozen. However, with amazing foresight into my career as an archaeologist, I'd checked off most of the players who signed, and after eliminating the easy ones, I cross-checked some of the more cryptic ones against a few items on eBay until I made matches. Lo and behold, Bonds' signature was there, partially obscured by a dark panel on the scorecard he'd signed. Score one for the desk.
In the end, I managed to ID all but one signature. Here's who I got:
Giants: Vida Blue, Bob Brenly (now manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks), Chili Davis, Dan Gladden, Jim Gott, Mark Grant, Brad Gulden, Mike Jeffcoat, Randy Johnson (Randall Glenn Johnson, the infielder, not Randall David Johnson, the Big Unit), Bill Laskey, Jeffrey Leonard (ol' Penitentary Face), Candy Maldonado, Greg Minton, and special instructor Willie McCovey. McCovey was a thrill -- hey, anytime you get an all-time top-ten homer guy (as Stretch was at the time) to sign, it's pretty good. I braved a swarm of people around the net behind home plate, passing my program through. With glacial speed but infinite patience, McCovey signed everything that came his way. An-tic-i-pa-tion.
Mariners: Jim Beattie (now the Orioles VP), Bob Kearney, Mike Moore, Jack Perconte (an old Dodger farmhand from Albu-turkey), Harold Reynolds (now a Baseball Tonight analysit), Steve Yeager (a Dodger who'd earned his immortality as co-MVP of the '81 World Series).
Indians: Bobby Bonds, Brett Butler (whose autograph I also got at the 2002 All Star Fan Fest in Milwaukee).
Angels: Doug DeCinces
All in all, there was only one signature I couldn't identify, and I think it belongs to the M's Jim Presley, but I have nothing to compare it to. Still, that's a pretty good haul: a Hall of Fame, 500-homer man, a five-time 30-30 man, a Cy Young/MVP winner, a future World Series-winning manager (groan), a couple of Series heroes, and a squeaky TV star.
I'm amazed that seventeen years later I was able to identify most of those autographs (thanks to some foresighted diligence and the wonders of technology) and to reconstruct the trip based on the schedule within the program. This veritable time-capsule yielded far more reward than if I'd known where it was all along.
Scanning the program, it's interesting to contrast the A's outlook going into 1986 with the team that began a three-pennant run two years later. When I saw them, the A's were managed by Jackie Moore, coming off of consecutive fourth-place 77-85 finishes. The program's cover featured Gold Glove winners Alfredo Griffin and Dwayne Murphy. Joaquin Andujar was their ace, Dave Kingman their proven power threat, Jose Canseco the good-looking rookie in camp, and Mark McGwire the obscure one.
The A's canned Moore after a 29-44 start and hired Tony LaRussa, who'd been axed by the White Sox a couple weeks earlier. The team started to win under LaRussa, and the housecleaning began. The only starter still in place when the A's met the Dodgers in the '88 World Series was Carney Lansford, and the only member of the rotation was Curt Young, unless you count Dave Stewart, who arrived via midseason trade. Griffin and another A -- Mike Davis -- ended up on the other side of that Dodgers-A's series, as a pair of sub-.200 hitting starters. The most pathetic-looking lineup in Series history, and one that scored a huge upset.
Which brings me to the next discovery in that desk: a roll of film from the Dodgers' spring training in Vero Beach in 1989, the spring following that improbabe World Series victory. That will have to wait for me to hook up the scanner this weekend...
I've returned to New York City from my vacation in the west. Alas, the desktop computer which was acting up before I'd left has now failed again. I was able to salvage about 95% of the essential data (including my writing, my site-related materials, my work-related files, and my email) but am pretty much starting from scratch when it comes to reinstalling software. So it may be another day before I'm able to get back in the swing of things, blogwise. Apologies to any of you out there to whom I owe email, I'll get back to you soon.
Out west, the A's have gone on a tear, winning eight straight and taking over first place. The M's, with their rotation sputtering, spent my wooded vacation being spanked by the Red Sox, losing four straight to them and six straight overall. They're now two games in back of the A's, but one ahead of the Red Sox in the Wild Card.
The Yanks have scuffled since I departed, going 4-3 over the past week but giving up 34 runs in those three losses and continuing their mediocre showing against other AL contenders. Since the end of interleague play in mid-June, the Yanks have played eight series against AL teams with winning records, and only twice (against Toronto and Kansas City) have they taken the set.
Just when it looked as though the Yankee pitching had sorted itself out, it fell back into disarray. Freshly activated Jose Contreras looked like a savior against the Baltimore Orioles last Sunday, then did his worst Jeff Weaver imitation against the Bosox on Friday. Weaver, who'd briefly been demoted to Tampa and then recalled, followed up that debacle with his own painfully accurate Jeff Weaver impression, putting his ever-slim postseason roster chances in further doubt. Twelfth option Sterling Hitchcock was finally jettisoned to St. Louis. Lefty reliever Gabe White was activated from the DL, enabling the Yanks to put Jesse Orosco (10.38 ERA as a Yank) out of their misery. Another servicable bullpen cog, lefty Felix Heredia, was claimed off of waivers from the Reds.
But none of those developments made bigger headlines than the spat surrounding big Boomer Wells. After getting bombed by the White Sox, Wells had his conditioning habits publicly questioned by pitching coach Mel Stottlemyre. Apparently Wells, recently bothered by chronic sciatic nerve flareups, has stopped throwing between starts. This has Stottlemyre seething. According to the New York Times:
The pitching coach, Mel Stottlemyre, is tired of Wells's act. After Wells gave up 10 runs in an 11-2 loss to the Chicago White Sox at Yankee Stadium last night, Stottlemyre calmly but sternly criticized Wells for failing to work hard between starts.
"He just needs to do more work," Stottlemyre said. "He hasn't been throwing in between starts, and I think he needs that. I think it's showing. The last two games, at the same point in the game, he hasn't made very good pitches."
..."I don't know if he has a bad back," Stottlemyre said. "If he has a bad back and it's bothering him, for the sake of the ball club, he should say it."
Wells, predictably, acted as though he'd been stabbed in his already-vulnerable back, airing his grievances to Michael Kay on ESPN Radio. Boomer was resentful that Stottlemyre aired their dirty laundry via the press rather than confront the pitcher directly, though Wells' quick exit from the clubhouse following his shellacking precluded that. Wells implied that the Yanks' threats to remove him from the rotation have a fiscal edge, due to his incentive bonus of around $183,000 per start.
All of this is starting to resemble the Bronx Zoo -- almost enough to make me want to go back into the wild and eat pinecones until this ugliness blows over. On the other hand, the Yanks beat the Sox today, 8-4, to take that series. Two time zones away, I didn't get to see any of it, but I'll rest easier tonight knowing the result.
