Skipper Tomb Alou

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SPRT
A brief item on Woody Rueter in this morning's Chron can be dissected for both essential "pros" and "cons" of Felipe Alou's stewardship of the Giants. Rueter, a lefty in the mold of a Glavine or Moyer, succeeds by hitting bats, rather than missing them. This year he's been hitting them smack on the barrel, and earned himself a demotion to the bullpen. Rueter is also a consummate winner, a longtime Giant, and popular with teammates and fans, many of whom have heard tales of gatherings at his expansive "shed" of deluxe entertainment gear.

Henry Shulman, the Giants beat writer who somehow caused Barry Bonds to insist earlier this season that he'd never give an interview while Shulman was in the room, was qualifying yesterday's statements from Reuter that he'd prefer either an established role or a trade. In that context, Shulman, who would know, writes, "That [Reuter] would air his grievances with reporters... demonstrates a deep frustration that he shares with others on the team." Reuter is quoted as saying, "I don't know if the whole atmosphere is conducive to performing."

Now, that's not what the piece is about, but these are hints of a greater problem. Alou has somehow lost the team this year, and lost it from the start. Alou, an avid fisherman, is indeed baseball's closest approximation of the title character in "The Old Man and the Sea." He hasn't lost his competetive grip -- he trudges miles a day making pitching changes alone -- but his soothing air may be the wrong tonic for a club of oldsters who have slumbered through Barry Bonds' absensce.

Why was Art Howe a flop in Houston, a genius in Oakland, and now a disappointment with the Mets? It could very well be that a laid-back attitude is best suited to younger players. Brett Tomko refuses to be any less stubborn than discarded prodigy Jerome Williams, Ray Durham has given up completely on his bread-and-butter running game, and Edgardo Alfonso continues to simulate your heart rate on the treadmill: at 70-85% of maximum. When the Giants needed a swift kick, it was 37-year-old kid Omar Vizquel who spoke up. (Vizquel is a delight, a pure Hall of Famer, and not a Giants fan alive wants him anywhere else. The other day, during a pitching change, a camera caught him calmly dropping his helmet on second base, only to have it pop back to him like a yoyo. Priceless.)

On the other hand, Alou, with his all-seeing attitude, even tone, and Puerto Rican accent, makes for a delightful sage. "Crap" is one of his favorite words. In today's item on Reuter, whom he managed years ago in Montreal, Alou was quoted: "You can imagine [how I feel about] a guy like Woody, who pitched for me when he was a baby. I'm dying a thousand deaths every time he comes to the mound and doesn't bring his 'A' stuff. I hope Woody throws the crap out of the ball in Milwaukee."

But Alou's formulaic approach can also seem cold and distant. (Great line from the Bad News Bears: "Baseball's a tough game -- you can love it, but it don't always love you back. Like dating a German chick.") In Monday's game, Alou pulled Jason Schmidt, who clearly had brought his 'A' stuff, after seven innings in a two-one game.

Alou seems not to understand balancing formulas with hunches. Playing by the book tends to return you to the norm, so with a greater sample size of pitchers, success will be achieved at increasingly normal levels, as one hot pitcher is replaced with a cold one, et cetera. Thus, if you feel your current option is better than the norm -- which Schmidt was Monday -- you leave him in. Instead, Alou used five relievers, the last of whom, Tyler Walker, gave up the lead on his first pitch. Asked to use crap in a sentence after the game, Alou said lamely, "I've seen 10-run leads evaporate in this park; tonight it was not the long ball, but a bunch of crap hits." Well, and you don't bring your fifth-best gun to the duel.

In all, Alou's tenure has been much like Dusty Baker's: a lot of success, a few bullpen snafu's and some confounding failures at key times -- how much of this can be blamed on the manager? Across the bay, visionary GM Billy Beane considers the entire postseason a crapshoot -- plus more personality than the average skipper, without Dusty's whiney undertone or naming firstborn sons after Darren Lewis. Heck, I was lobbying for Alou a year before Dusty hit the gate.

And speaking of the front office taking my advice, Brian, if you're reading: trade Feliz. Trade Feliz! Hit some homers, very scoutable body; versatile, young, cheap. Also, inflated numbers (exposed by peripheral numbers, like OBP, and hidden by cleanup spot,) won't stop diving for the outside pitch or adjust to situations. You've got yourself an average major league hitter -- remember, Feliz is already past 30 -- that some teams would probably love a crack at.

Hey, I called the Billy Owens deal -- it's hard to remember now, but Billy Owens for Mitch Richmond was the beginning of the end for the Warriors, back when Chris Webber was still a twinkle in Don Nelson's eye.

One argument in favor -- yes, in favor -- of steroids: last year's Bonds-Gagne matchup. Ninth inning. Gagne registered between 99 and 102 on the gun, and Bonds kept swinging mightily, fouling pitches back until he caught up with one, sailing it over the fence in deep centerfield. We may never see anything like it again.

This all might, just might, have been prevented if: it weren't for the 1994 strike. Yes, both sides missed a golden opportunity to stamp out steroids before the monster mutated -- but I'm talking about a forgotten hero. When the strike hit on August 12, and Alou's sizzling young Expos (Vlad Guerrero, Larry Walker, Pedro Martinez, John Wetteland) were the best team in baseball before being sold for scrap, the Giants' own Matt Williams had hit 43 homers. With seven weeks to make a run at the record, Williams was a consummate pro at the top of his game (also, a talented defender, quiet, likeable, and white) who just might have generated the exitement McGwire and Sosa fed on, along with some shiesty Kool-Aid, four years later.

I'm just sayin'.

MR

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"We must be the change we want to see in the world."
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