Angry Manager, Managing Angry

Look at what happened back in 1993:



Well, now all you need to do is multiply this by about 15 and convert it to 2008 standards. You see, Rick Churches, my manager (who is a bit high-strung), went completely over-the-top nuts last night in the clubhouse. I haven't seen any video of it yet anywhere - it happened right before the press came down after last night's game - but maybe one of the guys here caught it on his cell phone and will upload it in the near future. Anyway, it was nothing like this:



First of all, when Rick went nuts, it didn't take place in the shower. He was sort of half in his office and half out. And he wasn't really yelling at the team. He was just sort of yelling overall at the state of the world. I turned away when he began to bring world affairs into his rant for fear he'd make eye contact with me and I'd start to laugh. I wouldn't have been laughing at him. Well, yes, I would have been laughing at him. And that's just something a player shouldn't do to his manager, especially when his manager is going on a tirade.

It started somewhere in the 8th inning when Rick got thrown out of the game for arguing balls and strikes. You can't do that with umpires. While the majority of umpires are good men who are doing a professional job, some are terrible. Some have giant egos, larger than the egos of people like me, and you can't get past those egos for a second. Rick argued with an umpire's ego and got tossed. We were soundly trounced in a one-game rainout makeup, 10-2, our two runs scoring in the first inning. I think Rick was more upset that we were no-hit the rest of the night. Take away our first three batters and they pitched a perfect game against us.

Nobody likes to be beaten like that. Especially a manager. So Rick went nuts. Kookoo. Over the rainbow. Crackers.

Oh, I wish I had video for you. The papers had a few sentences about it in today's editions, but since Rick was done early, it's all hearsay. None of us (or is it we?) players would be directly quoted as to the full content of his anger. Even here, I'm not going to give you every last detail. Not today. I want to see what the team does in response. Or what Rick does before I spill all the beans and get lambasted for it from everyone I know. So, I'll just confirm that Rick was engaged in fury last evening and we deserved every word he said.

Nearly every word. I'm not completely bald just yet.

The State of Things

One week to opening day. Kind of exciting if you're me, very exciting if you're a fan. You, as a fan, should be excited because the team looks like it could possibly be the best team we've put on a field since 2000, coincidentally the last time we won a World Championship Series. Only a few questions marks:

1. Lyman Gaye's health - His auto accident last week was more scary than painful. If you think it looked rough on TV, double that if you were there. Strange how my family and I drove past his up-ended car last week on our way to Disney World and had no idea he was inside. He was back with the team over the weekend, but still stiff and sore. The coaching staff is looking at trying to get him into 1 or 2 spring training games by the end of the week. His fiance, who was driving the car, will not be around. Lyman filed a restraining order against her on Friday. Apparently, she was the cause of his injuries, not the accident.

2. Felipe Castro's presence - His mother is still in captivity somewhere in Venezuela. He has not reported to camp, but is expected this week. Rumors are flying around as to his physical shape. When I spoke with him in February, he admitted he wasn't close to being game-ready. I guess we'll know in the coming days.

3. Jimmy Scott's elbow - This is my elbow. Feels good. I still haven't pitched two days in a row. Everyone keeps telling me the bullpen, where I will work from this year, is the perfect place for me at this point in my career. I'll be in more games, be more active with the team... My head isn't there yet, however, which leads me to...

Me. If you're me and the new season is coming, here are some updates:

1. My lawsuit - Team psychologist, Dr. Henry Cohegans, and I settled his lawsuit very quietly last week. As he likes, the terms are under a confidentiality agreement. He also will no longer work with me. So I'm looking for another head-shrinker to help me fine-tune the rough edges of my psyche.

2. My Media Status - I've held pretty firm to my pledge not to speak on the record with the media. A few of my off-the-record comments have been printed, and attributed to me, which makes me pretty upset. I will say that the beat reporters around here have been very professional. These guys work their tails off and are, in nearly every case, people I can trust. Still, a few have tried to "do me in," as a teammate said to me a ways back. When I broke the story of Felipe being named captain and then was told I was off my rocker (meaning the story was untrue), I really had it out with the source who gave me the misinformation. As a result, I learned my lesson. I'm out of the scoop business. Unless I know it's true.

3. Connie - She finally - FINALLY - flew home on Saturday. There were a few days we thought she'd latch onto another family down here, but that was all wishful thinking. She was back to her parasitic ways by last Wednesday and Vanessa had to gently (over three days) negotiate with the woman to leave us along and fly back home. Tough situation. You want the woman out of your life, but she is your neighbor and she is a little off-center. In the movies, she'd come back and do something violent to us (maybe take me hostage and force Vanessa to save me). Just as my lawsuit with Dr. Cohegans was settled, I asked (free of charge) him if we had to worry about Connie. He said probably not. But he also said you never know. Truly helpful information. Somebody tell me if I just broke another confidentiality agreement with the man.

4. Nashville - The team is researching places for me to stay near the ballpark. It appears I will be in extended spring training for about 10 days then report to Nashville for the start of their season during the second week of April. The goal is once I can pitch 4 times a week (broken up as 2 days in a row, one day off, and 2 days in a row again), they'll call me up to New York. Meanwhile, I've thrown around the idea of living with a host family, preferably in their basement, instead of a hotel. The food might be better. And maybe they'll have a 12 year old kid who idolizes me and will make my ego soar to new heights. Or I'll just live in a trailer in the parking lot. You never know.

Absent Captain

Felipe Castro, our somewhat shy, "lead by example" $97 million outfielder, was anointed captain of the team yesterday by manager Rick Churches and GM Alvin Kirby. The news, delivered through the time-tested method of word of mouth, was met with a bout of jovial silence. In truth, most everyone on the team loves Felipe. He works as hard, or harder, than anyone on the roster. He runs and dives and never dogs it. Probably a good choice.

Probably.

Why my air of dissension? Number 1, Felipe hasn't shown up to camp yet. In effect, he was anointed Captain in absencia. I'm sure he'd like to be here in a perfect world, but since his mother's kidnapping in Venezuela, he's been home, I assume trying to help. Not really sure since we haven't had any contact (not that we should). My guess is that Rick and Alvin went about this course of action to pump up the man who is the key to this year's team. Which leads me to number 2...

Number 2, Felipe will be the first to admit that his first season with the team, last season, was his worst on the field since his rookie year in 2000. He only hit 16 home runs (they projected upper 30s), only had 69 RBIs (they projected 100+), stole only 12 bases (another 30+ projection) and only hit .261. I bet Alvin's glad that contract is backloaded.

Number 3, Felipe has been on this team for one year. One. There are guys here who've been here for ten times longer, who played for this team during its championship runs, who also command tremendous respect in the clubhouse. I tend to think that, upon reflection, there may be some unhappy campers in this space over the next few weeks.

Number 4... Well, I can stop at three.

Your first thought, possibly, is if I'm angry, or jealous, since this will be my 14th year with the club. No, not really. I mean, who doesn't still have dreams of leading their forces to victory? Sure, if they'd come to me I would have accepted the responsibility. But I doubt they would ever do that because I only play once every 5 days. I don't have any control over how we play the other 4 days and a captain, I think, needs to have his fingers in the pie all the time. Me, I'd just eat the pie and have to work off the excess calories before they found themselves lodged under my chin. Either way, my time with the team is running out. Felipe's got 6 years left on his deal. I'll have five chins and no scalp hair by the time he gets an extension or moves on.

Besides, the day I wrote Word One of this blog was the day I was taken out of the running. I'm nobody's best friend down here. Many guys are a little wary of me, concerned they'll say something in confidence and I'll break that confidence, spilling the beans here. My intention with this isn't to lose friends. But it has influenced some to consider becoming enemies.

Speaking of Rick (I'm pretty much kidding), he did give us an update on Felipe. He's been working out at home with a team-appointed personal trainer and said, no matter what, he'd be up here by the 15th. He'll get in 2 weeks of games, enough to (hopefully) get his timing down before the regular season starts on April 1. (I'm not counting the 2 games between Arizona and Philadelphia in Japan starting on 3/25.)

When Felipe shows up, I expect he'll get a warm welcome. He's been through a lot. And with his new appointment, he's going to go through even more. I hope he enjoys the welcome he gets, because none of this makes sense. It's a surprising call from the powers that be. For Felipe, it's only going to get harder.

Back To School

Our first game against a team other than ourselves is this afternoon. We play the Riptide, who are trying to make all 3 of their fans call them The Tide. The game is in West Palm Beach, about an hour's drive from Ft. Pierce, and most of the regulars will stay behind with most of the coaches. It's not worth it yet to do the bus thing - the whole travel thing - when timing is still off, muscles are still being acclimated, and minds are still soft from an off season of Wii.

I'd be staying behind anyway, since I'm not as far along as many of my teammates. I've been throwing off of flat ground for a couple of weeks now and will throw a bullpen session to live batters (it's hard to find dead ones who can swing away) over the weekend.

Coming off of a major injury like mine takes a lot of patience and lots of hard work. I admittedly didn't rehab as hard as I should have right after my surgery last April 5th. If I had, there would have been a decent chance that I could have gone north with the team and been able to pitch that first week of the season. Instead, the plan is for me to be available by May 1 to contribute to the team.

So it's been me and Mike Murphy, who had a second shoulder surgery last June (he might be back by September, although no one is sure since he only threw 3 innings last year and 37 in 2006), kind of tossing the ball to each other like babies and listening to Bobby Spencer, our pitching coach, who's trying to teach us new ways to throw that will relieve stress on our surgically repaired parts.

How does it feel to re-learn how to pitch? It's weird. If you're right handed, take a baseball in your left hand, go into your motion, and see how it feels to throw your fastball. Awkward, huh? When I throw lefty, I throw like a girl (no offense, you dames). Throwing with my newer motion on my natural right side is kind of like me throwing like a lefty girl. Not as awkward, but just awkward enough to feel a little weird. Bobby says with repetition, I should get a good feel soon. He also says I should be able to reclaim a few miles an hour on my fastball, which was topping off around 88 right before my UCL and me got into that very public, and violent, argument. If I could get into the low 90s, and still have the movement I used to have, I could be pretty good. Maybe 2008 wouldn't have to be my last year...

That's what goes through your head during this process. You keep looking forward to the future because the present is so tough and, let's face it, boring. That means I have to not only re-learn how to pitch, I have to re-learn the old "Take it one day at a time, one game at a time, one inning at a time" line of thinking. That's a different kind of discipline. Being that most big leaguers are just big babies, and big babies want everything NOW, it's very difficult to teach us patience. But I'm working hard on that part of my game as well.

The rest of the coaching staff is doing the same with not only the other players coming off injury or off season "procedures," i.e. cleaning out a knee, but with the guys who are trying to improve off of last season, which on our team is most everyone.

It is a strange sight to see Chazz Waters back in camp. I know - and he knows, and the press knows, and you know - he wasn't Rick's first choice to be bench coach, but he's got a pedigree here. Two World Championship Series rings with us (1996, 2000) is nothing to sniff at (I don't know what that phrase means). And since we haven't been very competitive since left in 2002, maybe a little of his past will rub off on some of the guys here. And Rick, who can probably learn a thing or two from Chazz, especially since this is Rick's first camp as a manager.

Gums Murphy, our resident octogenarian who managed us for two "glorious" (his word) weeks at the end of last season (the team went 2 and 11 under his helm), is teaching bunting to anyone who will listen. He's also got lots of stories about the days when players took trains between cities and the farthest west anyone would go was St. Louis. Very different from today. But so is Gums.

By the way, Willie Fernandez, who we all remember as our third baseman who caught the last out of the 2000 Series team, is here as our new infield and third base coach. Willie's in great shape and could probably still hit a few home runs off the bench if he had wanted. But for him, coaching is less stressful on his knees. I haven't had five surgeries on mine, so I can't make too much fun of him for hanging up his spikes and waving other guys around third base to score. I can still make a little fun of him. It's more fun that way.

Home game tomorrow against the Sky that will be broadcast on NYS. That will be my dad's first game on the air for us. Listen in and see what he says about me. I'll be in the dugout watching the action. Who knows, maybe I'll learn a thing or two as well.

Fanatic Festival...

...or Fan Fest, as most call it. We've held it every year for the past seven. I think they took two or three years off before that and the fanatics went fanatical, so they reinstated this New York Mardis Gras for baseball fans. Held at the Jacob Javits Center, it's impossible to get to. Parking stinks. No subway. Right on 11th Avenue, which is a busy street. And I hear the City wants to spend something like a billion dollars to expand the place. I wonder where the common sense goes once somebody gets elected into office...

...or is named manager of a professional baseball team. Rick Churches, our leader, is supposed to direct our on-field activities. Yes, he's in charge of the clubhouse too. But Fan Fest? He ran the show, so to speak. One person related to the team (an intern - my team leads the league in interns) said Rick arrived at Fan Fest yesterday just after 5AM to make sure everything was in its proper place. Later, on WTEM's "Jock & Jam Show," Rick would say he had to vacuum the carpets, which had lots of dirt. He made it sound like a joke. Still...

...it's hard to imagine the manager of a baseball team, who's earning a million dollars this year, arriving so early just to make sure the team signs weren't cockeyed. Anyway, my writing these past days has turned quite sour due to my "issues" with Rick and his boss, GM Alvin Kirby. Unfortunately, we had a face-to-face meeting today. I'm still sour. Thank goodness this little get together was behind a curtain in an area where the players (the ones who showed up) could relax and get away from the fanatics who paid upwards of $50 for a day of standing in line for autographs, paying more money to buy memorabilia, and eating "stadium style" concessions (which meant they overpaid for hot dogs too). But my meeting with Rick & Alvin...

...no Chipmunks jokes. Although Alvin does have a pretty high-pitched voice. Enough. My super agent, Jack Perry, couldn't attend Fan Fest because, well, I'm not his only client. Arbitration hearings are coming up soon and he overprepares. I had requested Jack send someone very tall and thick in his place to keep Alvin & Rick, or Rick & Alvin, away from me. Jack sent Tina. His wife. Tina is 5 foot 4 and about 97 pounds. She's sweet as hell and beautiful. Not what I had in mind, however. I wasn't on the showfloor for more than 5 minutes before the "altercation" (what the papers have described it) occurred. It went something like this...

...I was shaking hands with new third base coach Willie Fernandez when a third hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. It sure as hell wasn't Tina's hand. The following exchange took place:

Rick: Cut the sh*t, a**hole!
Me: Huh?
Rick: You heard me you piece of sh*t! Cut the sh*t!
Me: If I'm a piece of shi*t and you want me to cut the sh*t, that means you want me to harm myself. My contract won't pay me if I do that. It says so on page -
Rick: Get out of here!
Alvin: Jimmy, we'd like you to leave.
Me: (here's where I showed them) Why?
Alvin: You're on suspension.
Me: Why?
Rick: For being an a**hole!
Alvin: That's not the reason.
Me: Thank you.
Alvin: A number of comments you've made on your blog that have criticized the organization were uncalled for. Comments about me. Your manager. We're suspending you without pay for two weeks.
Me: It's the off season. You're not paying me yet.
Tina: Should I call Jack?
Rick: Yeah. You can tell that piece of sh*t that I said -
Me: Rick, lay off her.
Rick: (pushing me) What are you gonna do about it, a**hole?
Alvin: Excuse us, Jimmy.

I didn't see them again. Alvin literally pulled Rick away from me and that was it. I didn't leave. Tina called Jack who called Mrs. Delaney, who asked that I post an apology to the fans. I'm not sure what I did to bother the fans yesterday, besides decline an invitation to appear on the "Jock & Jam Show." But I like Mrs. Delaney. I'm a proud athlete but, ask Vanessa, have no problem telling people when I'm wrong in my personal life. I still don't think I did anything wrong here. I certainly didn't push my manager, nor did I stand "in a confrontational style" as one paper put it. But, Mrs. Delaney asked, and I'm not above saying I'm sorry. So to all of our fans, I apologize. Please accept this.

Oh, I'm not suspended, by the way. Mrs. Delaney overrode Alvin's decision (thanks to Jack for his input there as well).

I'm waiting for Rick to apologize to me now. He has my number. He knows where I live. A basket of fresh fruit would be nice. Or cookies. I love cookies. Just no hot dogs. They're too expensive. He should know that. I think he's showing up early today for Day 2 of Fan Fest. I hear he's going to be cooking.

Shut Down

The MRI came back. Scar tissue. I don't have bone chips, tortilla chips or the t.v. show CHiPs floating around my arm like the ship in Fantastic Voyage. No need for another surgery and no reason to believe I can't come back sometime in April, possibly early-May.

But...

The team physician, my good Dr. McGee, said for now I have to shut down all "baseball activities." He meant don't throw a ball, but he made it sound like I couldn't talk about baseball, write about baseball or coach a Little League team, not that I'd be a good coach or that I'd even have the time or patience to coach a Little League team, but I'd still like the option to try.

Here's tomorrow's NY Post headline:

JIMMY SCOTT TO COACH LITTLE LEAGUE TEAM IN 2008

Not gonna happen, but go ahead and sell your papers. I read all my articles online - for free.

Yesterday's take by the various media outlets on my health and meeting with GM Alvin Kirby and Manager Rick Churches was interesting. Some quoted my blog. Others just quoted Kirby and/or Churches, who denied what took place actually took place. A few places referenced us both and realized we're in a "he said/he said/she said" situation (Rick is cringing as he reads this, wondering who the "she" is). Here's where we stand:

• Alvin Kirby and Rick Churches met with me and told me, for health reasons, I should either retire or expect to spend the year on the disabled list.
• I told them there was no need, I'd just been to the doctor and was on progress to pitch all year.
• They told me a second opinion - a doctor I never saw and still don't know the identity of - said my arm is in such a state that my career is over, barring a miracle.
• My arm did, in fact, have a setback that day. But I should, according to the team doctor, be able to start throwing again in a week to ten days.

Nobody is quoting this phantom "second doctor" and Alvin and Rick aren't even bringing up that part of the conversation. They're saying there is no second doctor. They're saying, basically, that I'm lying.

No matter. You'll see my official grievance against the team filed today by my super agent, Jack Perry. Our wonderful team owner, Mrs. Joan Delaney, left a message at my house apologizing for any confusion, even though she had previously talked to Jack and, following what is now/was then the party line, said she didn't expect me back this season.

This has all come out of the blue. For some reason, the team is suddenly (or they planned this all along) low on funding and wants insurance to cover my salary. Or they truly don't think I'll be able to pitch, and pitch well, this season and don't want to subsidize a long and pointless rehabilitation program. Or they just want me out. Conspiracy theories fly like fleas on poop.

The columnists I'm reading are saying the same thing as me. ESPN just treats it like a sideshow. Meanwhile, Pepsi called Jack and is considering pulling the ad we just filmed and yanking away my endorsement deal. Why? Because they don't want to pay millions to someone who won't be playing in 2008. My grievance against the team will take on much greater weight should Pepsi pull out because of the actions of two men who don't appear to like me.

Here's the deal for you all to see. I'll use bullet points, because I feel bullets have been shot at my head (none self-inflicted, for once):

• I will pitch in 2008
• The team will not get any insurance money...
• ...because I will pitch in 2008
• I will participate in spring training
• I will probably start the season in extended spring training in Florida or with a minor league affiliate. A warm one.

That's it. Don't believe everything you read (note how this can hurt me since I'm not talking to anyone, just writing). Just believe the source, me, when I say I will pitch this season. Betting is illegal in baseball, but if I were a gambler, I'd put my money on me. The payout will be huge.

Anyone going to guess on tomorrow's Daily News headline?

JIMMY SCOTT GAMBLING HABITS UNDER INVESTIGATION

Just want you to be aware of the source of their story before they report it.

Have a nice day.

This Weekend Past Part II: Owning Up

FRIDAY AFTERNOON

When you're a baseball player, your manager isn't your only boss. There's also the GM, the President slash CEO, and maybe then an owner. We had a large ownership group until September, one whose size make it hard to keep track of all the ass that was needed to be kissed. That's why I always kept a media guide in my locker. If some stranger in a suit ambled nearby, I could pull out the guide, find a picture and make my match. It was like speed dating, only in my case, my potential suitor could reject me by releasing me outright or trying to trade me for someone with better dieting habits.

The days of my wearing out my media guide should be over now. We have one main owner, Mrs. Joan Delaney, who loves the game, loves New York and apparently loves me. I know this because she told me.

After Friday's press conference and gourmet pizza lunch, Vanessa (back from her shopping spree) and I had a sit-down with Mrs. Delaney in her new office, which wasn't new in terms of construction. It was just new to her. The office and stadium are both 47 years old. You'll be happy to hear about her two priorities for the 2008 season:

1. To win a World Championship
2. To get the team a new stadium

Neither will be easy, but she's confident about #1 after the team's "reconciliation" (her words) with me and some other moves she's authorized GM Alvin Kirby to make. I flinched a little when she said she was willing to spend what it takes to win now. Vanessa kept a stone face, but she knew if I hadn't caved so quickly, we'd be $9 million richer and I wouldn't be committed to sitting next to my father in the broadcast booth in 2009 (although she admits ratings should be great when fans get a whiff of the relationship "Red" Scott and I share).

The new stadium might be even more difficult than winning a championship, if only because Mrs. Delaney and the mayor don't see eye-to-eye about much. But our crosstown rivals were just given zoning approval and a $200 million match by the City to begin construction for their new place, so one would think we were next. One would think.

After leaving, it was time to meet up with Julia, Grace and my parents at Chelsea Piers for our annual three-hour Thanksgiving Sports-A-Thon to raise money for M.S. The event was our biggest yet. We raised almost $347,000. I need to thank those of my teammates who were able to make it, the Chelsea Piers staff, and surprise guest, Mrs. Delaney. I have to admit, she looked a little strange when she entered wearing her hamster fur scarf, but it was cold outside. She asked me if I wanted to try it on, but I couldn't. Rodents give me nightmares, especially nocturnal ones (meaning both rodents and nightmares). Julia and Grace thought it was kind of disgusting, a bunch of dead Chuck E. Cheeses straddling the neck of my team's new owner. When they were young they had pet gerbils. Once I explained the differences between hamsters and gerbils (gerbils don't have sweat glands, hamsters are loners), they felt a little better. They're waiting for the return call from PETA just in case.

We got home around 1:30 AM on Saturday, all of us tired. I was especially exhausted after being up since 5:17 in the early AM morning. But I felt good about myself, raising money, having some good talks with the team - my employers, after all - and continuing to raise money for a great cause. Saturday was going to be busy as well, so as I slapped my head against my pillow, I tried hard not to dream of four-legged creatures that could fit in the palm of my hand yet still kill me if they found 2479 friends who all wanted to attack me at the same time. I was glad I'd gotten up so early to work out that morning. It gave me the subconscious strength to be able to run away.

Tomorrow: The completion of last weekend's trilogy recap.