On May 19, 1967, the University of Texas Longhorns and the University of Houston Cougars prepared to play the third and deciding game of the NCAA’s District Six playoff series.  To the winner would go a berth in the College World Series in Omaha.  The teams had met in the 1966 District Six playoff, and Texas advanced after a 2-1 series win.  For Texas, trips to Omaha were commonplace, but Houston was a relative newcomer to NCAA playoff baseball and had been to the World Series only once previously.  To add to the significance of the day, this game would be the final Austin appearance for Bibb Falk, the legendary Longhorn coach who was retiring at the end of the 1967 season.

            The 1967 Longhorns were not expected to be preparing for a playoff contest.  Picked to finish in the second division of the Southwest Conference, Falk told the media that he hoped for a .500 season.  Gary Moore, a pitcher/outfielder and the 1966 team’s MVP, had signed a professional contract with the Dodgers.  His defection left the pitching to Tommy Moore, a hard-throwing senior righthander from Austin, Gary Gressett, a soft-tossing senior lefty from Mississippi, and a whole bunch of nobodies.  I was one of the nobodies and was headed into my senior season in 1967.  Pitching was expected to be a serious problem for Texas.

            My UT baseball career prior to my senior year can be described as bad luck and bad pitching.  I was a relief pitcher in the eyes of the coach, and to understand the role of a relief pitcher on the Longhorns in 1967, one must understand the rules governing SWC baseball at that time.  The small schools dominated the Southwest Conference because, simply put, they could outvote Texas and Texas A&M.  Consequently, the SWC did not allow fall baseball practice and strictly limited the number of games any team could play.  In 1967, for example, UT played 25 regular season games, and West Coast teams often played more than 50.  Because of the limited number of games, Coach Falk would use three pitchers predominantly—two starters and a reliever.  If the reliever failed in his first appearance, he went to the back of the line to wait his turn for another chance.  Often, that second chance never came.

            In 1965, I did well in my first opportunity, and I became the first pitcher to be used out of the pen.  After getting a save against TCU, bad luck struck.  Coach Falk broke my jaw hitting grounders to our shortstop while I was pitching batting practice, and although I did not miss a day of practice with my teeth wired together, he did not put me in another game.  Bad pitching struck in 1966.  My first appearance was a disaster, and I went to the back of the line to become a “little-used righthander” for the rest of that season.  My first opportunity in 1967 was against Oklahoma with the bases loaded and no outs, and I struck out the side.  On the strength of that performance, I became the relief pitcher, and I pitched well enough during the season to maintain my position as the playoffs began.

            Led by senior pitcher Tommy Moore, who finished at 9-0 and received All-SWC and third team All-America honors, the 1967 Longhorns surprised everyone by finishing the regular season with a 16-9 record and a SWC co-championship with TCU.  By virtue of its 2-1 season series win over TCU, UT advanced to the District Six playoff against Houston.  The Longhorns boasted the SWC batting champion, first baseman Bob Snoddy at .392, and the team hit 24 home runs, which was the second highest total in Longhorn history.  Gressett, the number two pitcher, had an unlucky 6-4 record, but his 1.53 ERA, lowest ever for a UT starting pitcher, provided effective support for Moore.  Four Texas players received All-SWC honors.  UH had a hard-hitting lineup with several players hitting near or over .300, led by junior left fielder Tom Paciorek. He was hitting well over .400, had a school record for home runs, and was first team All-America. Both teams featured two-sport stars, which was not unusal for the era. Texas third baseman Minton White also played basketball, and Houston outfielders Bo Burris and Paciorek and first baseman Ken Hebert were outstanding football players.

          My season, like the player, was pretty good but not great.  I threw a sinking fastball, which Coach Falk liked, and I also had a good curve, an ok slider, an effective changeup and outstanding control.  Going into the Houston playoff series, I had pitched the third highest number of innings on the staff.  UT baseball had not yet discovered the concept of “closer,” and Coach Falk brought me into games to protect a lead and into games in which we were behind.  I had pitched as few as ⅓ inning and as many as 4⅔ innings in our games.  I had given up about a hit per inning, but I had only walked one during the regular season.  I was happy and satisfied with my role.  I was the relief pitcher for the SWC champs, and I knew I would pitch in important games.  I could neither ask for nor hope for more.

            Texas and Houston had split the first two games of the playoff series.  The Cougars routed Texas ace Tommy Moore in the opening game in Houston; Moore faced nine batters in the first inning, retiring only two, and gave up five earned runs before being removed.  The Longhorns fought back to tie the score at 5-5 to take Moore off the hook for his first loss, but UH quickly regained the lead on a home run by Paciorek. Houston pulled away to record an 11-8 victory.  I pitched four innings in the middle of the game but did not distinguish myself.  I issued my second and third walks of the season and, incredibly to me, I walked in a run.  I gave up three runs, two of which were earned, but was the only Texas pitcher to retire Paciorek…on a towering fly ball that our center fielder caught with his back to the fence.

            Two days later, the teams played in Austin.  Coach Falk again started Tommy Moore, as everyone thought he would, and with a second chance,  Moore pitched a complete game and shut down the Cougars on eight hits.  The Longhorns won 5-1 to even the series, and immediately the media questioned Falk on his choice of a starting pitcher for the third game to be played the next day in Austin.  “Moore’s it until further notice,” Falk said, but in speculating which pitcher Coach Falk would select for the deciding game, the Austin newspaper mentioned virtually every pitcher on the UT staff except me.  Gressett, the logical choice, had left his last start early with what he described as a sore shoulder.  I was neither surprised nor offended by not being mentioned.  Coach Falk viewed me as a three inning pitcher, and I agreed with the sportswriter’s omission of Raup as a possible starter.  I joked at the time that even if I were the only pitcher at the park, Coach Falk would start someone else.

            With this background, UT and UH prepared to decide which team would be the District Six representative at the College World Series.  During batting practice, I was engaged in my usual pre-game activity of mindless chatter and shagging balls hit to the outfield when I saw Coach Falk walking toward the group of players I was in. He came directly to me and handed me a new baseball, which is the universal symbol to designate the starting pitcher.  Coach Falk walked away without saying anything, and I was struck deaf and dumb by the realization that I was going to be the starting pitcher in the most important game of our season and of my life. 

            I immediately thought of my dad, who was traveling to Port Arthur to attend to his ailing father and who would not see me pitch.  There were no cell phones in those primitive days, of course, and I could not even tell him my exciting news.  My on-again, off-again girlfriend was mad at me, as she often was, and was not coming to the game.  Of those persons closest to me, only my mother and my brother would be present to witness whatever thrills or disappointment resulted from Falk’s unexpected decision.  Throughout his storied career, Bibb Falk had defied the odds successfully with his unconventional decisions, but none was more surprising than his choice of me as the pitcher to start this game.  I retired to the locker room to compose myself for the biggest game of my life.

            I have never been more nervous than I was warming up in the bullpen prior to the game.  Nervousness sapped my energy and made me feel weak and as though I could not get the ball to the catcher.  Warming up was always like this for me, but once I got to the mound and into the game, the nervousness disappeared immediately.  Coach Falk came into the bullpen and stood by the catcher to watch me throw.  I finished my warmup routine and started toward the dugout to get ready for the game to start.  Coach Falk approached me, and I expected a “go get ‘em” or some similar words of encouragement.  I should have known better.  What he said was “Go as hard as you can for as long as you can, and don’t embarrass anybody out there.”  Then the game started, and I was on the mound.

            The tricks the mind plays are funny.  As readers who stay with this piece will see, I can remember clearly almost every pitch in the 9th inning, but I remember very few details about the rest of the game.  The Austin newspaper called my game “one of the most magnificent pitching performances in recent years by a Longhorn,” but I do not remember the game that way.  I remember that I was not nervous and did not think of the importance of the game once I began to pitch.  I remember that I was just pitching and getting them out.  I remember that I used all my pitches, as a starter does, rather than throwing sinker after sinker as I did as a reliever.  I remember that I had uncanny control of all my pitches and that I believed I could throw the ball through the eye of a needle.  I remember a four pitch walk to a weak hitter that I could not fathom and a bad call at first base that robbed us of a double play after the walk.  I remember that we scored three runs early and should have scored six or seven.  I remember that I was in total control of the game and that my dominance seemed like the most normal thing in the world.

            Then came the top of the 9th inning.  The Longhorns were ahead 3-0, and over the first eight innings, I had given up two hits, walked two and struck out four.  No UH baserunner had advanced past first base, and I had faced only 28 batters.  As I began my warmup pitches, the announcer reminded the overflow crowd that Bibb Falk was coaching his final game in Austin, and the announcement was the first I had thought about his retirement.  None of us on the UT team believed this would be his last game, and we were in the College World Series as soon as I got three more outs.  I was not tired, and I knew I would get those three outs as easily as I had gotten the first 24.  When I finished my warmup pitches, I was relaxed and merely pitching a baseball game as I had been doing since I was nine years old.

            Ken Hebert, the Cougars’ first baseman, tried to bunt his way on, but I threw him out for the 25th out.  George Cantu, the third baseman, popped up to our shortstop, and I had 26 outs.  Tom Paciorek, the hitting terror of the series, would make the 27th out that would send us to Omaha.  He had come into the game with seven hits in nine at bats, but he was 0-3 as he stepped in.

            I can see the 9th inning pitches as though I have them on video in my mind.  Paciorek was taking a strike, and I threw a fastball right down the middle for strike one.  Down in the count 0-1, he lifted a high, lazy foul fly down the right field line.  Our right fielder, George Nauert, was a catcher but played the outfield because of his hitting.  Coach Falk did not use defensive replacements, and Nauert could not get to the foul fly from his defensive alignment in right centerfield.  Paciorek’s would-be third out fell harmlessly to the grass, but the count was 0-2, and I had him.

            My next pitch was a slider that was maybe an inch or two outside.  The plate umpire was John Mazur, a local postman who had called balls and strikes for my games since Little League. When he called the pitch a ball, I thought “Mr. Mazur, after all these years, you owed me that pitch.”  The count on Paciorek moved to 1-2, and I still had him. Our catcher called for a changeup, and I made a mistake in my approach to the pitch.  I loved his pitch selection because I had fooled Paciorek badly with a changeup during an earlier at bat, but when I accepted the sign, I thought “Just don’t bounce it.”  Of course, I bounced it at his feet.  Paciorek was fooled and out on his front foot, but the pitch was too bad to swing at.  The count was 2-2.

            James Scheschuk, our catcher and my senior classmate, called for an up and in fastball, and I put the pitch exactly where he called for it.  The pitch jammed Paciorek severely, and he fisted a slow roller down the third baseline that I could not field.  Our third baseman, Minton White, was an outfielder playing third to get his potent bat into the lineup, and he was playing very deep behind the bag.  His all-out charge to make the play was too late, and Paciorek beat the throw for an infield hit.

            At the moment the umpire signaled Paciorek safe at first, I remember an immediate but brief feeling of fatigue.  Perhaps the spell had been broken, but the 27th out was still there to get in the person of Bo Burris, the Cougars’ lefthanded hitting right fielder.  After a swinging strike, Burris lined a single to left field moving Paciorek to second base.  Ronnie Baker, the second baseman, moved into the batters’ box.  Baker, a righthanded hitter, wasted no time. My first pitch was a slider headed for the outside part of the plate, and he leaned over the plate and hooked a low liner down the left field line.  Paciorek and Burris scored easily, and as I returned to the mound with a one run lead to protect, Baker was on second, and Falk was on his way to me.

            My first thought was “No!  You cannot take me out of this game now!”  He could and he did, although for a brief moment I thought I had talked him into allowing me one more hitter.  I received a standing ovation as I left, but that was no consolation for me at all.  Moore and Gressett both were warmed up and ready, but Coach Falk inexplicably allowed the pitching coach to send in Al Clements, a third baseman who had a great arm but who had pitched only 8⅓ innings all season. On a 3-2 pitch, Clements walked the Cougars’ shortstop, Art Toombs, who was hitting under .200,  and again on a 3-2 pitch,  gave up a two-run triple to the next hitter.  Gressett came in to retire the side with one pitch, but I had a no decision, and we were down 4-3 with only three outs to go.  The Longhorns rallied valiantly in the bottom of the 9th, but our 27th out was the tying run thrown out at home plate to end the game, our season and Bibb Falk’s coaching career.

            Unlike the smack-talking and disrespect that today’s athletes direct toward opponents, the 1967 Longhorns and Cougars met in the center of the field to congratulate, commiserate and wish each other well.  Several of their players were gracious to me in victory; Paciorek put his arm around me and told me that he was happy to win but sorry to have ruined the great game I pitched.  I appreciated their sportsmanship, but our loss crushed me.  The game was my last as it was Coach Falk’s last.  I grew up in Austin dreaming of playing some sport for the Longhorns, but now with the opportunity to put my team into the College World Series, I failed to get the 27th out with but a single strike to go.  I had only thrown three pitches following Paciorek’s infield hit, and now my time as a Longhorn pitcher was over.  The suddenness and finality were shocking.

            The teams parted and went on to their respective destinies.  UH lost badly in the first game of the double elimination College World Series, but as they did on May 19, the Cougars fought their way back in the tournament before losing to Arizona State in the championship game.  UT’s baseball season ended that day, and I and the other seniors graduated and began our futures.  My future was high school coaching initially and then law, and I have been reasonably successful in both careers.  Tom Paciorek, my chief protagonist, had an 18-year career in major league baseball as a player and then 19 more seasons as a broadcaster.  No doubt we both are satisfied with our lives after our brief encounters with one another, but I wonder if he ever thinks about the deciding game in 1967.  I certainly do.

            With the perspective of forty years that included many years in coaching, I realize that Coach Falk made the correct decision to take me out.  He never expected me to be in the game in the ninth inning, and Houston had just gotten three consecutive hits to narrow our lead to 3-2.  There are many “what ifs” to ponder without that decision being one of them, however.  I could have and should have had Paciorek out three times in his final at bat.  What if the umpire had given the hometown pitcher the benefit of an extremely close pitch on 0-2?  What if Coach Falk had made a defensive substitution in right field to start the ninth inning?  What if our third baseman had been playing behind the bag but not with his heels on the outfield grass?  What if I had reverted to my primary role of reliever after Paciorek’s hit and had thrown nothing but sinkers?

            The biggest “what if” of all is what if Coach Falk had used one of our top two pitchers to get the 27th out instead of a seldom-used infielder who had a great arm?  I never will understand why a Hall of Fame coach who had 477 career victories, 20 SWC championships and two national championships would allow a pitching coach to make the most important pitching change of the season.  Coach Falk did, though, and he later provided the 1967 Longhorn team its epitaph with his final comment to the media as UT’s coach:  “Some days you try things and they work; other days you try and they don’t work.”  He never spoke to me about this game, either in the locker room after the game or in the many times I talked with him before he died, so I will never know what he was thinking that day as he walked to the mound to get me.

            So, readers who are still here, is baseball a cruel game when a team is so near victory in a crucial game but cannot get the 27^th out?  After much serious reflection, I do not think that it is.  Certainly what happened to the Longhorns and to me in the UH game was cruel, but what happened to Tom Paciorek and to the Houston Cougars was wonderful.  Our opponents refused to give up and forced us to record all 27 outs to beat them.  When we threatened to steal their victory with our rally in the bottom of the 9th, they got the 27th out.  I was the one who could not get that 27th out, not some malevolent Game that cruelly denied me a victorious finish.  I failed when success mattered most, and accountability for that failure must be with me, not attributed to some inanimate Game.  If one’s best is not good enough, congratulate the winners and move on; do not wax philosophical about a cruel Game.

            With the perspective of years and experience, I think I gained much from the UH game that initially brought me almost tangible pain.  I learned that sometimes a player can be at his absolute best, but his best still is not enough to overcome the opponent.  I learned to respect opponents who fight their hardest to avoid defeat, no matter what the final outcome may be.  I learned that no one is entitled to victory or to success, no matter how much he may want to win or how hard he may try to succeed.  I learned that losing is every bit as much a part of the Game as is winning and that the final outcome does not diminish the accomplishments of those who competed.

            Most important, I learned and believe earnestly that there is no disgrace or dishonor in failure if one has tried his hardest to succeed.  Disgrace is giving less than one’s best effort or allowing failure to kill one’s will to compete.  True success lies not only in victory but also in picking oneself up after a gut-wrenching loss and in striving to be better the next time.  If sports fans could understand how difficult victory is to attain and how much competition requires of players’ bodies and minds, appreciating a team and its players for the quality of the competition will be more rewarding than focusing on final scores, and despicable epithets like “choke” to describe a losing effort never will be uttered.

            No, baseball is not a cruel game, despite the occasional elusiveness of the 27th out.  On the contrary, the Game allows both teams an equal opportunity to win and requires the winner to get all of the 27 outs.  The Game rewards those who do more when victory or defeat hangs in the balance, and the Game penalizes those who fall short in those situations.  Whether one succeeds or fails when all can be won or lost is the essence of competition.  The Game benignly provides a stage to determine a contest’s outcome, but the Game does not guarantee any player success or compel his failure.  We lost on that fateful May day in 1967, but the Game was not to blame.  Today I recall those events with twinges of regret and disappointment but with great pride in my performance.  I failed to get the 27th out, but that day I was the best I ever was.  On May 19, 1967, the stakes were high, and the competition was magnificent.  The Game promises no more, and I was fortunate to have been a part of that competition.

I was not optimistic that we would advance very far.  We were a veteran team with no glaring weaknesses, but we underachieved in the crucial district games.  Our lack of success in big games was perplexing to me.  We could hit the ball.  Senior shortstop Matt Elkjer and junior pitcher/third baseman Matt Belisle were our stars.  Each had been a starter since the ninth grade, and they hit over .400, led the team in RBI and were our best hitters.  We did not have an automatic out in the lineup.  Rightfielder Eric Whited also had power, catcher Juan Facundo and second baseman Mike Carmona had many important hits, and first baseman Mark Raup, the coach’s son, hit well over .300.  

At times we played great defense.  Our double play combination of Elkjer and Carmona was outstanding.  Rightfielder Whited and centerfielder Scott Williams, a freshman, had speed and excellent arms.  I used several players in left field.  All were adequate, and Kent Evans emerged as the starter for much of the playoffs.  Facundo had very good defensive skills at catcher and a strong and accurate arm.  Third basemen Belisle and David Zuniga, who played when Belisle pitched, were solid defenders, and first basemen Raup and Kevin Ryden, a regular defensive replacement, also played well defensively.  Belisle, a 6’3″ righthander with a 90 plus fastball and a sharp overhand curve, was one of the state’s top pitchers.  Our second pitcher, Danny Gray, was a reliable control pitcher with an excellent curve, but no other pitcher had been consistent or dependable during the season.  On paper, especially with Belisle pitching, we appeared to be a very good team, but because we did not play well in our most important games, I was not confident about our chances against the state’s best teams.  
   
The UIL’s 4A classification playoff bracket required Austin teams to face opponents in the southeastern quarter of the state.  The big dogs lurked in that region; on the list of possible opponents for any team hoping to advance through the region were Hays Consolidated, Robstown and Boerne, all of which were ranked in Class 4A’s Top 10 at the end of the regular season, and Corpus Christi Calallen, the state’s top-ranked 4A team.  No one at McCallum was thinking that far ahead as the playoffs began, least of all the coach.  We lost an extra inning first round game the previous year to Casey Fossum and Waco Midway, and my goal for this team was a modest one:  win at least one playoff game before elimination.
   
UIL rules allow a playoff series to be either one game or two out of three games.  In 1997, either coach could mandate a single game, but if the coaches agreed to play a three-game series, the games must be played on Friday and Saturday.  The Knights had one great pitcher and one good pitcher but absolutely no one else to pitch at the level necessary to advance.  Our lack of pitching depth made a three-game series over a two-day period impossible.  I decided that we would play a one game playoff in each round until we lost.  I thought single elimination was our only chance to advance.  Belisle would start each game, Gray would be in relief, and our two pitchers would have plenty of rest if we won because we would play only one game each week.
   
I correctly anticipated resistance from opposing coaches to my requiring a one-game playoff.  With only one exception, each opposing coach complained bitterly that a single game was “not fair.”  Those coaches, of course, did not want to face the prospect of elimination if their teams could not beat Belisle in the single chance they would have.  To my way of thinking, however, a one-game playoff was the most fair test of all:  their team was rested, my team was rested; their best pitcher against my best pitcher.  Besides, the Texas State Tournament is a Final Four single elimination format with no three-game series.  I did not listen very long to the coaches’ protests; the rules allowed it, and we would play a single game in each round no matter what opposing coaches said.
   
I almost always lost coin flips.  My team eventually insisted that I stop calling the flip so that they would have a chance to be the home team.  The Taylor Ducks were our first opponent, and I called the flip incorrectly.  Thus, the 1997 playoffs began for the McCallum Knights in Taylor on a bright, sunny day in May.  Summer had not yet arrived in Central Texas, and there was a brisk north wind blowing straight out to centerfield.  I thought this was a good omen because we had some fly ball hitters, and I was glad that this wind was not blowing in.  The Taylor baseball program was accustomed to being in the playoffs, but the Taylor pitchers were not overpowering.  I thought we could compete with them if Belisle was on his game.
   
Neither team did much until the third inning, but in that frame, our two stars played like stars.  Matt Elkjer singled in a run.  Then Matt Belisle, a switchhitter hitting lefthanded, hit a 3-run home run that rode the breeze over the left centerfield fence.  Up 4-0 with Belisle mowing them down, I was very confident that we would realize my goal of a playoff win.  Disaster struck with two outs in the bottom of the fifth inning, however.
   
With two on and two out, the Taylor hitter lifted a high popup behind short.  As Elkjer drifted back, the wind I thought would help us pushed the ball away from him. Our leftfielder was slow to come up and hesitant to call for the ball.  Instead of ending the inning, the popup fell safely beyond the reach of our shortstop, and a run scored.  The leftfielder should have made the play easily, but he did not, and Taylor had an opportunity.  Inexplicably, Belisle faltered, and Taylor scored four more runs to take a 5-4 lead.  We were stunned by this unexpected misfortune, and when Mark Raup was called out on strikes to begin the sixth, I had a personal twinge of sadness that my son’s high school baseball career likely was over.  Our next two hitters went down meekly, and the Knights’ prospects looked bleak.
   
During Taylor’s half of the sixth, I discussed our coming at bat with one of my assistant coaches.  We had the top of the order up, and I told him to have Tony Chavez, a line drive hitter who often was our DH, ready to pinch hit.  Eric Whited, our cleanup hitter, was mired in a terrible slump the second half of the season, and Chavez would bat for him if we needed a hit to tie the game.  I told the coach to check with me because I might want Eric to hit if we had a runner at third and fewer than two out.  Eric hit long flies and would have a decent chance to produce a sacrifice fly, regardless of his slump.
   
We held Taylor scoreless in the bottom of the sixth and began the seventh with our leadoff hitter, Ricky Garza.  The Taylor pitcher got ahead quickly 0-2, but Ricky drew a walk after a great at bat.  Our next hitter, Kent Evans, was supposed to sacrifice, but he fouled off two attempted bunts.  Evans slapped the next pitch to deep short, and when the shortstop had no play, we had two on and no outs.  Perhaps wary of Elkjer’s reputation, the Taylor pitcher walked him on four pitches to load the bases.
   
Eric Whited was up, and I had to make a decision.  He had the toughest year imaginable on and off the field; his hitting slump was just part of baseball, but, tragically, his mother and best fan Barbara was battling the cancer that eventually took her life.  I decided to let him hit because of his fly ball potential, and he hit the first pitch well over the centerfield fence for a grand slam!  As Eric rounded the bases, my assistant coach yelled to me, “good no substitution.”  Before the inning ended, Belisle singled, and on a hit and run, Raup doubled the runner home for a 9-5 McCallum lead.  Belisle shut Taylor out in their half of the seventh, and the Knights had accomplished my goal of a playoff win.
   
Our second round opponent was the Hays Consolidated Rebels, led by lefthanded pitcher Coy Lowden, a University of Texas signee.  The Rebels were 21-4 champions of their district and enjoyed a long tradition of playoff success.  Because district champions received a first round bye, we were Hays’ first opponent.  The Rebels’ coach did not try to conceal his supreme confidence in this second round match-up.  He called the coin flip incorrectly, however, so we were able to play at Nelson Field in Austin, our home field.  This was our only home game in the playoffs.
   
Belisle was tough, but Lowden was tougher.  Hays scratched out two runs against us, and as we prepared to hit in the bottom of the fifth inning, the Knights had no runs and no hits.  Juan Facundo led off the inning, and I told him to “take a strike.”  This meant that the hitter must not swing at a pitch until after a strike was called.  Taking a strike was standard operating procedure for the Knights when we were behind in the late innings.
   
Incredibly, Lowden walked Facundo, Raup and Carmona on twelve straight pitches, with each hitter taking a strike that never came.  We still had no hits, but we had the bases loaded, and the Hays coach removed Lowden for a relief pitcher.  The new pitcher walked in a run to narrow their lead to 2-1, but with the infield in, he got the first out on a force out at home.  Tony Chavez, our almost-pinch hitter in Taylor, blooped a two-run double over the drawn-in infield for a 3-2 McCallum lead, and Whited tripled over the rightfielder’s head for two more runs.  The Hays defense, no doubt shaken by this strange turn of events, then fell apart.  Multiple errors allowed three insurance runs to cross the plate, and we led 8-2 after five.  Elkjer singled in our ninth run in the sixth, and Belisle cruised through the Hays hitters for the final six outs to secure a 9-2 win.  The win may have been a bit miraculous, but it counted, and the McCallum Knights were headed into the lofty reaches of the regional quarterfinals.  I was beginning to believe that something unusual was happening to us.
   
Next was the 25-4 Boerne Greyhounds.  Boerne won the first two games in its series with Austin Anderson High School, champions of our district and our nemesis.  Although Boerne was a powerful hitting team and their lefthanded pitcher was at least Belisle’s equal, I was glad to be playing them.  We rarely played well against Anderson, our bitter rival, and our players seemed to try too hard to beat them, with spectacularly unsuccessful results.  We had no recent history of failure with Boerne and knew nothing about them.  I saw them beat Anderson 1-0 to win their second round series, and I thought that we could play with them.  That was all my team needed to know.
   
The Boerne coach was a class act.  He did not complain about a one-game playoff.  He also offered Nelson Wolff Stadium in San Antonio as the site for our game if I would agree to be visiting team.  I was happy to do so in return for the opportunity to play in the Texas League home of the San Antonio Missions.  On the day of the game, I took my team to the field several hours early in the hopes that the “new” would wear off by game time.  As I expected, my players cavorted and gamboled all over Wolff Stadium.  They explored every unlocked nook and cranny of the stadium, took numerous photos, and generally behaved like six-year-olds at Disneyland.  By batting practice, though, they had calmed down and were ready to play.  Thank goodness they were ready because the Boerne team was all we could handle.  Fortunately for us, the Knights played their best game of the season.
   
Cory Stewart, Boerne’s junior lefthander, was unscored upon in the postseason and came into the game with a streak of 30 consecutive scoreless innings.  After Stewart struck out the side in the top of the first, it was obvious that we also would have trouble scoring off him.  Belisle had an overpowering fastball and was throwing his curve for strikes.  He only struck out six, but our defense made every play.  Boerne got a runner to third with two outs in the third and runners to second and third with two outs in the sixth, but Belisle pitched out of both situations easily.  Stewart dominated the McCallum hitters during a 12-strikeout, 4-hit performance.  This great game came down to who made the first mistake, and it was Boerne.
   
With one out in the top of the fourth, Matt Elkjer singled.  Stewart had completely stopped our “run on first movement” tactic with his uncanny ability to adjust to the runner’s break and throw to first in the midst of his delivery.  He picked off two of our runners and forced me to abandon the strategy.  He tried to pick Elkjer off too, and likely would have, but his bad throw rolled into the right field corner and allowed Elkjer to reach third.  Apparently rattled, Stewart walked Whited to put runners at the corners.  Belisle topped the ball out in front of the plate, and after a hesitation and a glance at Elkjer to keep him at third, the Boerne catcher rushed his throw to first.  When the throw also went wildly into the right field corner, we scored two runs, and Belisle made it all the way to third.  Facundo singled for a 3-0 lead that looked insurmountable.
   
After escaping the Boerne threat in the sixth by getting Stewart to fly out to center, Belisle gave up a leadoff single in the bottom of the seventh.  Assistant Coach David Lowery, who worked tirelessly with our infielders, said to me, “We need a double play now.”  On command, the next pitch resulted in a 6-4-3 twin killing, and our bench erupted with excitement.  Belisle disposed of the final hitter on a comebacker to him, and we had advanced to the regional semifinals.
   
My team was relaxed and playing well, despite the pressure of the playoffs, and I was enjoying the ride.  While coaching at third against Boerne, I unintentionally provided fodder for their ability to stay relaxed.  We had a runner approaching third, and I backpedaled as fast as I could to wave him around the bag.  As I ran backwards, I stepped into a sprinkler depression, fell on my backside hard, and performed an involuntary back somersault.  My glasses went flying, and I remember thinking that I hoped no one caught my spectacular pratfall on video.  After briefly considering faking an injury to stay down, I got to my feet and observed uncontrolled hilarity in our dugout.  Near the end of the game, my unfortunate son was the target of Boerne hecklers.  Their final salvo as the inning ended was “Hey, number 16, you’re fat, and your dad can’t stand up!”  Mark flashed the 3-0 score, a one-finger salute, and ran off the field to the winners’ dugout.  The 1997 playoffs were about to lead the Knights into the path of two of the most storied teams in Texas 4A baseball.
   
To those who follow Texas high school baseball closely, the Robstown Cotton Pickers are synonymous with winning and with perhaps the most intimidating home field advantage in the State of Texas.  Robstown was 25-7 and was riding a 16-game winning streak.  Calallen and Robstown were in the same district, and Robstown’s home field dominance included a win over Calallen.  True to form, I lost the coin flip, and we had to face Robstown on their home field.  More than a few of my baseball friends called to console me because “no one wins at Robstown.”
   
Mother Nature tried to help us avoid the snakepit home field advantage.  Heavy rain inundated coastal Texas late in the week, and high school coaches scrambled to find dry fields.  I won the race to get the Houston Astrodome as a possible venue for our Saturday game, but as luck would have it, the entire town of Robstown (only a slight exaggeration) worked all night to dry the field and to make it playable.  The day of the game was clear, sunny and hot, and the game was on.  
   
Robstown attempted to intimidate its opponents with a football crowd atmosphere and was uncommonly successful at doing so.  Around 5,000 fans dressed in red were in the stands a full two hours before the game.  Huge speakers placed around the park blared conjunto music at about a million decibels.  The noise was deafening, and the stands rocked when Robstown took the field for infield practice, the first round of which they took with an invisible ball.  To my pleasant surprise, my team appeared to be energized, not intimidated, by the raucous environment, and Mark asked me to trade him to Robstown because the electric atmosphere was so much fun.  We laughed when the music blaring for our infield practice was “YMCA.”
   
The Robstown pitcher was the third lefty we had faced in four playoff games.  We either were not intimidated by their home field advantage or were too dumb to be scared, and we got off to a great start with three runs in the top of the first inning.  Elkjer doubled in a run to get us rolling, and we added a run in the fourth on a Williams sacrifice fly.  Robstown chipped away with a run in the third and two more in the fourth to narrow the deficit to 4-3.  Clinging to this precarious lead, Belisle survived a scare in the fifth that turned on the game’s biggest single play.
   
Robstown’s big catcher led off the fifth, and Belisle did not retire him all day.  The slugger crushed the ball to left field and immediately went into his cadillac home run trot with numerous “pump ’em up” gestures as he strutted toward first base.  Trouble was, the ball had overspin, hit near the top of the left field fence, and rebounded directly to our leftfielder.  By the time the Robstown hitter strolled around the first base bag, the ball was in our second baseman’s hands.  In shock, the hitter returned to first and asked, “What just happened?”  When told the ball had not gone out, he said, “Oh, no.  Coach is going to kill me.”  Sure enough, when we forced him out at second on the next play, the Robstown coach met him at the third base line, chewed him out in full view of God and the crowd, took the batting helmet off of his head and kicked the helmet over the fence behind their dugout.  Funny stuff, and Belisle maintained our lead by retiring the side without giving up a run.
   
We put Robstown away with four runs in the top of the seventh inning to take an 8-3 lead with three outs to go.  In the middle of the rally, I atoned for an earlier mistake. Two walks and two errors brought in a run with one out, and we had runners on first and third.  Facundo was at the plate with a 3-2 count, and I wanted to put on the suicide squeeze play.  Facundo did not look at me for a sign and hit the next pitch foul.  I risked losing the element of surprise by telling him to step out so I could give the squeeze sign, but I thought the play might be too unorthodox for them to expect it even after a series of signs.  I was right, and Juan got the bunt down perfectly to increase our lead to 6-3.  I cost us a run earlier in the game by not calling the squeeze, but Facundo’s execution made up for my mistake.
 
We scored two more in the seventh, including a two-out hit by our Mr. Clutch, Mike Carmona.  Robstown scored two meaningless runs in the bottom of the seventh, helped by a misplay in centerfield, but Belisle closed out our 8-5 regional semifinal victory.  We had accomplished the seemingly-impossible task of winning in Robstown, and we were in the regional finals, one game from the State Tournament.  To get to Austin and the Final Four, we would have to defeat the state’s number one ranked 4A team.  

Corpus Christi Calallen had reached the State Tournament in three of the past four years, and they carried a record of 31-4 into the regional final.  I knew nothing about the Wildcats team and made no attempt to find out anything other than they would pitch a lefthander.  My constant refrain for the games after Taylor was: “We’re not supposed to be here, and no one expects us to win.  Let’s just play the game and see how it comes out.”  This attitude, which the team appeared to adopt, seemed to help them relax and served us well.  I did not want to affect the team’s relaxed approach to the playoffs by giving them a detailed scouting report on an opponent that was an overwhelming favorite to beat us.  The players were having fun and were playing well.  I did not want to make them anxious about playing a superior opponent.
   
To describe Calallen’s coaches and players as arrogant would be a major understatement.  They knew quite well that we were a third place team, and they were totally convinced that we would not slow them down.  After all, Calallen was 65-6 over the past two seasons.  Their coaches, angry at me for forcing a one-game playoff, would not agree to anything I proposed concerning the game, and they finally made me angry too.  I told them to pick the day, time and field, and we would show up to play them.  They picked their “lucky field,” Blossom Field in San Antonio, and set the game for 2:00 p.m. so that they would not have to face Belisle under the lights.  Calallen, of course, won the flip for home team.  As promised, we showed up on a very hot Saturday afternoon for the biggest game in the history of our school.
   
The McCallum Knights came to play, and the ranking of the opponent mattered not at all.  We scored four in the top of the first inning and five more in the top of the third.  Included in the early bombardment were a three-run triple by Belisle, a three-run homer by Elkjer, and two RBI by Chavez.  We led 9-0 in the third and 10-1 after the top of the fourth.  I had a fleeting hope that we could score again and beat them by the playoffs’ mercy rule, but  I should have known better. That 31-4 team not only had great players but also had great pride.
   
Back came Calallen.  They scored four in the fourth to cut our lead to 10-5 and scored two in the sixth to close to 10-7.  Belisle was neither overpowering nor particularly sharp in the middle of the game, and the oppressive heat was taking its toll on him as the game progressed.  Our defense also showed some cracks during Calallen’s resurgence, and several of their hits were of the seven-hopper, seeing-eye variety.  I thought we could hold the lead, but Calallen obviously had regained its confidence, and we needed more runs.
   
Just as at Robstown, we scored in the top of the seventh to get some separation.  We loaded the bases for Belisle, and he missed a grand slam by about two feet when his opposite field blast to right sliced foul.  On the very next pitch, however, Matt doubled inside the third base bag, driving in two of his five RBI for the day.  Another clutch two-out single by Carmona pushed our lead to 13-7 with three outs to get.  We almost needed every run of that cushion.
   
Belisle’s plan for the seventh inning was to throw strikes on every pitch and to depend on his defense.  I am certain he was tired because it was so hot, but I would have needed a gun to remove him from the game.  Calallen’s first four hitters in the seventh reached base, and we helped this outburst by allowing a catchable ball to drop in centerfield.  Belisle rallied to strike out two consecutive hitters, but the next hitter dribbled an RBI single to bring the Wildcats to within three at 13-10.  With runners at first and second, Belisle induced a hard two-hopper right at Elkjer that would end the game.  Unbelievably, Elkjer booted the ball, and another run scored.  We now were clinging to a 13-11 lead with two on, and I was dying a slow and agonizing death.
   
Calallen’s winning run was in the batter’s box, but he popped up foul to the first base coach’s box.  Kevin Ryden, our late inning defensive replacement at first base, caught it falling backwards for the final out after initially misjudging its downward path.  The Calallen players and coaches were shocked into sullen silence, but McCallum’s players, coaches and fans went crazy in celebration.  Matt Belisle, now 14-4, pitched five complete games in the playoffs, and we averaged more than eight runs a game during our playoff run.  Cinderella indeed was going to the Ball, and the McCallum Knights were going to the State Tournament.

Alas, this fairy tale did not have a happy ending at Disch-Falk Field in Austin.  The wheels flew off of Cinderella’s coach in our State Tournament semifinal game against Dallas Highland Park, and we played poorly in all facets of the game.  A baserunning mistake kept us from scoring in the top of the first inning, and Highland Park scored three in the first and added another run in the second.  We stayed close early with a triple by Belisle, a double by Raup, a single by Carmona, and a three-run triple by Whited, but a six-run third inning enabled Highland Park to pull away.  They only hit four balls hard all day, but we did not make the defensive plays we should have made and had been making.  Highland Park eliminated us 13-5, and our season ended one game short of the championship game.  We lost to a team we should have beaten, but every team we had played the previous five weeks said the same thing about us.  We finished with a record of 22-9 as State Semifinalists and in a tie for third place in the final 4A rankings.
   
The artificial turf at Disch-Falk tremendously affected our play.  Our infielders were taking a step back on each initial bounce, and our outfielders were not coming in aggressively on pop flies.  Highland Park hitters reached on several grounders that we either threw away rushing the throw or that we made a play on too late, and several catchable balls fell safely in front of outfielders for bloop hits.  I practiced the team on an artificial turf football field, and in retrospect, that was a mistake.  The football field was far more springy and bouncy than the Disch-Falk turf, and practice on the football field thoroughly spooked my players about having to play on turf.  In fact, the turf at Disch-Falk was no faster than the sun-baked infield in San Antonio the week before, but by the time we adjusted to the turf field, it was too late.  

I did not prepare my team well for the State Tournament, and that I did not bothers me to this day.  I blame the coach for the defeat.  After our victories against the state’s most successful baseball programs in the very hostile environments that our opponents chose, I mistakenly believed that my team would not be nervous playing at home in front of 5,000 people cheering for them.  I could not have been more wrong, and our early shakiness, especially on defense, put us in a hole from which we could not recover.  I should have spent far more time than I did on our mental approach to the game.  I simply misjudged their mental state on that big day, and by doing so, I did not give them the best opportunity to play well.
   
Nothing that happened at Disch-Falk could diminish the accomplishments of that special team.  The 1997 McCallum Knights were a true team in every good and positive nuance of “team.”  We had two stars, but they did not behave like stars.  We had many role players who contributed greatly to our success and who were not jealous or envious of the stars.  We won in the most difficult surroundings imaginable.  We defeated the state’s best teams.  We became the media’s darlings after the win at Robstown; Craig Way’s “Texas High School Extra,” a statewide television program, had a cameraman at the Robstown game, and we were featured on his program after our win.  We were a Cinderella story throughout Texas.
   
For the next two weeks after our win at Robstown, newspaper reporters, photographers and television cameras were at each practice.  Craig Way featured us again on his program before the State Tournament.  I made sure that the reporters also interviewed role players so that the media did not focus entirely on Belisle and Elkjer.  I think all the players learned something about dealing with the media and with celebrity, and I know all of us enjoyed reading about McCallum in the paper and seeing our interviews on television.  One article in particular illustrated how unselfish this team was.
   
Prior to the State Tournament, the Austin newspaper did an article featuring Danny Gray, our second pitcher.  He selflessly watched Belisle pitch every playoff inning and did not complain or pout about not pitching.  Danny had been a two-year starter at quarterback on the football team and was a fierce competitor.  I know not playing was killing him inside, but he rooted hard for Belisle and for the team.  With a chance to grumble publicly about his inactivity, he told the reporter, “If I was the coach and had Matt, I would just pitch him too.”  Danny was available for relief each week and would have pitched the state championship game.  I put him in to pitch the final two innings of the Highland Park game so that he could experience the thrill of State Tournament competition.
   
The reporter’s story line was to explain why this previously unremarkable group had reached the Final Four.  He wrote, “The Knights feature stars Belisle and . . . Elkjer, a bunch of role players like Gray, and no animosity.”  Matt Elkjer, our star shortstop, told the reporter that “everybody does his job and knows his role on the team.  Everyone hits up and down the lineup.  As far as anybody feeling two guys are carrying the team, they’re not.”  Role player Tony Chavez said of Belisle and Elkjer, “They are our biggest contributors. . . . They should get a lot of attention.”  Another role player, Mark Raup, said, “We don’t do much complaining.  We’re just happy for any attention we get for our school.”  Finally, Chavez expressed his and the team’s confidence in Danny Gray: “I think Danny would do a great job for us.  He’s stepped up all year.”  These “team first” sentiments are foreign to today’s “me first” world of athletics, and knowing my team’s faith in one another and experiencing the complete absence of cliques, envy, jealousy and animosity on this team made me as proud of them as I was for their play.  Talent aside, this was a fantastic group of young men who learned what it meant to be part of a team.
   
Perhaps as important, I learned a lot about Coach Raup during our playoff run.  More than at any other time in my coaching life, I let the players play the games without much interference from me.  I tried to recognize the time in each game when my decisions could have a major impact on the game, like the 3-2 squeeze against Robstown, but I tried not to overcoach them into anxiety and tightness.  I learned that a coach does not have to control every aspect of a game to have his players excel.
   
I attempted to develop a relaxed team attitude about these very important games against opponents the pundits said we could not beat.  My assistants and I were low key about our opponents and told the team only whether the pitcher was righthanded or lefthanded.  We made no attempt to obtain scouting reports or to discuss individual players.  We rarely mentioned our coming opponent in practice but rather focused on how we were going to play.  I believe much of our success resulted from our “just play the game and see how it comes out” approach to the games.  We played loose and had fun, and the talent of our players was not stifled by self-imposed or coach-imposed pressure.  When at the State Tournament we did not play with the relaxed attitude we demonstrated the previous five weeks, our lack of success did not surprise me.
   
Finally, I relished every moment of those six weeks, and I tried to convey to my team how extraordinary those times were.  When I was a young coach in Brenham on my way to a state championship, correcting past mistakes was extremely important to me. Mere victory was not enough, and in those days I spent a large part of each post-game talk dissecting the previous game and pointing out our mistakes.  Not so in the 1997 playoffs, but I may have gotten smart too late.
   
As the Boerne game wound down, I became acutely aware of how incredibly special this time in our lives was.  Immediately after the post-game congratulations, for the first time in my coaching life, I made no effort to get the team around me for a talk.  Instead, I told them to celebrate the win with their families and friends and I would talk to them on the bus.  This became our post-game routine for the duration of the playoffs.  

Before the Robstown game, the team came to my room for a weather and field condition report, and after telling them the field was playable, I limited my pre-game speech to, “Let’s win tomorrow and get the hell out of Robstown.”  After the Robstown win, I got on the bus and asked them, “Do you realize what you have just done?”  After defeating Calallen, I told them how proud I was of their accomplishment, and I walked through the bus to shake each player’s hand.  I learned that I could forget the team’s mistakes quickly and concentrate on enjoying the incomparable experience of competing at Texas high school baseball’s highest level.  

Each week I encouraged them to take pleasure from our shared experiences, as I was, rather than to dwell on the minute details of their past performance.  I almost completely eliminated my usual post-game routine of discussing our mistakes thoroughly.  Instead, I endeavored to emphasize how fortunate we were to be a part of this exciting competition. We played our best against the best and advanced to the next round; nothing that happened before really mattered. Winning the next game was important, of course, but to enjoy each moment of these unforgettable events became my goal for me and for the team.  Except for Belisle, who now is a major league pitcher, I doubt that any of the Knights had or will have athletic accomplishments that compare to those six weeks in the spring and summer of 1997.  I hope they enjoyed every wonderful moment of those times.
   
The title to this piece came from the Corpus Christi newspaper reporter?s story of our regional final victory over Calallen.  He wrote, “Austin McCallum High School continued its improbable odyssey through the Class 4A baseball playoffs Saturday, eliminating top-ranked Calallen. . . .”  I love that phrase because “improbable odyssey” aptly described this team’s journey to the State Tournament.  Our advance to the State Tournament was so improbable: a third place team defeated the elite programs in Texas high school baseball by playing together and by relying on and believing in one another.  Those six weeks were the best time of my life.
   
Playoff baseball is intense, exciting and fun; the pressure is real and, at times, can be suffocating.  A team must survive and advance with no second chance.  Champions welcome the intensity, handle the pressure, and play well under even the most adverse conditions.  Despite the outcome of their final game, these Knights were champions.  Future McCallum teams may have more talent or may advance farther or may one day win the State Championship.  No McCallum team, however, will ever play the game with more heart or with more courage or against greater odds.  I am thankful and proud to have been a part of the improbable odyssey of the 1997 McCallum Knights.  This, my friends, was a TEAM.

I coached HS baseball for a total of nine years at Brenham High School and at Austin’s McCallum High School. Before that, I pitched at the University of Texas under the legendary Bibb Falk, and I coached for one year at UT under the equally-legendary Cliff Gustafson. The outline posted here expresses my baseball philosophy and the system I used coaching high school teams. I used a scaled down version of this system while coaching my son and his contemporaries in youth baseball leagues. I do not pretend that this system is innovative or the only system. My coaching philosophy evolved from what I learned from those two outstanding coaches and from my Dad, who was the best pitching coach I ever had. I encourage readers to review the outline and to use whatever seems suited to your individual coaching situations. Good luck to you and to your teams.

MAC HARDBALL
McCALLUM KNIGHTS BASEBALL

I. Team Philosophy

A. Aggressive but not reckless

1. big lead/dive back every time

2. think two bases when ball is hit – sprint to the next base and anticipate taking the extra base

a. home to second

b. first to third

c. second to home

d. baserunners should advance two bases on most hits

e. hitter must sprint to first on contact and round the bag hard

3. run at every opportunity

a. steal bases

b. take the extra base

c. advance on passed ball/wild pitch/opponents’ errors

d. think two bases on every play

4. we must be able to score on plays other than hits; put ball in play and advance runners

5. put constant pressure on our opponents

B. Hitting approach

1. work the count – be smart, get your pitch, do not swing at pitcher’s pitch

a. first pitch, 2-0, 3-1 is your pitch; only swing at something you can drive

b. ahead in the count: do not swing at just any strike; look for something in your zone

c. two strike approach: choke up, move up, short stroke, put ball in play, foul off close pitches

d. DO NOT TAKE STRIKE THREE

2. know your strike zone; know which pitches you can handle and which you cannot

3. get a pitch you can hit, not just any strike

4. on deck circle approach

a. no conversation with dugout unless it is about your time at bat or about the pitcher you are facing

b. PREPARE to hit – concentrate on pitcher and situation

c. think about your mechanics – coach yourself

5. batter’s box approach

a. see ball, hit ball – no thinking

b. between pitches – step out and think/coach yourself on mechanics, remind yourself of what you need to do on the next pitch

c. in box – see ball, hit ball

6. swing mechanics

a. balanced stance – not open, not closed

b. get in a rhythm with P’s delivery

c. short stride to hitting position when P’s arm is at top of delivery – hands go back slightly

d. step closed on inside part of front foot

e. weight and hands stay back – do not move head, hands or body forward during stride to hitting position

f. you can be early on your stride to the hitting position but NEVER late

g. the stride is first, then the swing – stride and swing are NOT simultaneous

h. head and eyes down, on ball – weight centered over back foot as swing begins

i. front shoulder in – take your front shoulder to the ball

j. hit down and through ball, barrel of bat above your hands

k. weight and hands stay back – hit the ball back in your stance, not out on front foot

l. back side down and through ball – slight transfer of weight to front side during swing

m. let the ball come to you – do not reach for the ball – track it deep, let it travel

n. keep your hands inside the ball – do not roll your wrists as you hit the ball

o. swing down – hit hard ground balls and line drives

7. be aware of what the situation requires

a. often we can score a run with a fly ball (runner at third) or a ground ball (infield back, runner at third)

b. advance runners by putting ball in play

c. situation hitting scores runs without base hits

C. Defensive principles

1. make every routine play

2. do not allow opponents extra outs

3. no walks – make opponents hit their way on base, throw strikes

4. never leave a base uncovered – outfielders be ready to back up plays and cover bases

5. be alert – remind each other of situations, number of outs and the play we are going to make

6. SS must tell P on every double play situation who will cover second on a ball hit back to P – SS tell P on each hitter

7. catch every fly ball – do not ever let a fly ball or popup drop – CALL FOR THE BALL

8. hit the cutoff man every time

9. back up each play

a. OF back up plays at bases

b. P back up third and home on hits – DO NOT STAND AT THE MOUND AND WATCH – P IS NOT A CUTOFF MAN

c. 1B be ready to cover home

d. C back up throws to first with no one in scoring position

10. P break to first on any ground ball to right side – C yell “GET OVER THERE”

11. everyone up on toes on each pitch – anticipate that the ball is coming to you and know what you are going to do with it

12. rundowns

a. run the runner back to the base he left

b. never chase runner to the next base

c. if infielder cannot tag runner immediately, throw to next base and run him back to the base he left

13. defense is nothing more than catch and throw – be consistent

14. IF WE DO NOT GIVE RUNS AWAY AND DO NOT ALLOW EXTRA OUTS, WE WILL WIN

II. Signs

A. Indicator

1. either hand on belt buckle

2. next sign after indicator is on

3. a return to the indicator at any time during the sequence wipes off the sign

4. there must be a new sign after every pitch – signs do not remain on after a pitch is made

5. pickoff throw is not a pitch – sign remains on until a pitch is made to the hitter

B. Bunt signs

1. either hand on left side of chest

a. sacrifice bunt

b. drag bunt (if no one on base or runners on with two outs)

c. safety squeeze (runner at third, less than two outs)

d. bunt strikes only – get the ball down

2. either hand on right side of chest

a. suicide squeeze bunt

b. hitter acknowledge sign to coach by holding the bat with a hand on each end

c. runner acknowledge sign to hitter by touching cap bill

d. runner break when the pitcher’s arm is at the top of the throwing motion

e. runner try for a walking lead before breaking if pitcher is winding up

f. hitter MUST bunt the ball fair and on the ground

g. hitter MUST get the bat on the ball – do not take the pitch, even if it is bad

3. either hand across letters

a. bunt and run

b. runner break on pitch regardless of jump

c. batter bunt a strike only

d. runner think two bases – round base hard and look to coach

e. runner look in at pitch like hit and run – if hitter takes the pitch, steal the base

4. either hand skin on skin

a. arm, ear, cheek, nose, hand – any skin spot

b. fake bunt swing

c. square to bunt, then use a short stroke to hit any pitch – protect the runner

d. runner break on pitch regardless of jump

e. this is a hit and run play – runner look in to find ball, hitter put the ball in play on the ground

C. Running signs

1. either hand on left leg

a. steal

b. aggressive lead/dive back

c. BREAK ONLY IF RUNNER GETS A GOOD JUMP

d. first step must be a crossover step with left foot

e. BAD JUMP – STAY PUT

f. do not look in at ball – head down, run hard

2. either hand on right leg

a. hit and run

b. aggressive lead/dive back

c. runner break regardless of jump

d. hitter swing at any pitch – trying to hit ground ball through infield

e. runner must look in and find ball – get back if ball hit in air

3. either hand across letters

a. bunt and run

b. aggressive lead/dive back

c. see above for details of play

4. either hand skin on skin

a. fake bunt swing

b. aggressive lead/dive back

c. see above for details of play

5. either hand on bill of cap

a. fake bunt steal

b. aggressive lead/dive back

c. hitter square early to bunt

d. keep bat at top of strike zone

e. on the pitch, hitter pull head of bat back toward C mask – take the pitch

f. RUNNER BREAK ONLY ON GOOD JUMP

g. runner steal second – do not look in at ball, head down, run hard

6. either hand on top of cap

a. delayed steal

b. aggressive lead/dive back

c. on the pitch, two shuffle steps toward next base, then GO

d. shuffle steps may be slide steps or sideways hops

e. runner should not attract C attention with the shuffle steps

f. on the pitch, “shuffle, shuffle, go”

g. runner steal second – do not look in at ball, head down, run hard

7. run on contact

a. runner at third only

b. coach will tell runner – no sign

c. runner break for home aggressively as soon as ball is hit

d. runner must score on any ground ball – do not hesitate

e. gamble play – if ball is hit in air or back to the pitcher, runner may be out

8. run on first movement

a. runner on first, LH P

b. coach will tell runner – no sign

c. often will be discussed before game in preparing for certain LH P

d. runner break for second as soon as LH P moves his front knee up

e. do not look in at ball – head down, run hard

f. gamble play – if LH P throws to first, runner may be out

9. palms down

a. no indicator necessary

b. steal only on sign – play it safe

c. this is primarily for runners who are allowed to run on their own

D. Hit away/Take

1. take – coach maintains continuous eye contact with hitter until hitter looks away

2. hit away – coach looks away from hitter or is not looking at hitter

3. index finger up – “take one”

a. no indicator necessary

b. take a strike – do not swing until after P throws a strike

c. take on 2-0, 3-0, 3-1 pitch

III. Defensive plays

A. Fly ball rules

1. OF get everything he can get coming in – OF call off INF and catch the ball

2. CF get everything he can get left and right – CF call off LF and RF

3. OF back up each other

4. OF help each other on up and back

5. OF help each other on which base to throw to – talk between pitches about situation and runners

6. communicate loudly and early

7. CALL FOR THE BALL

a. OF who calls for fly yell “BALL”

b. other OF acknowledge call by answering “TAKE IT” and back up play

c. CF is in charge of fly balls to outfield

d. if CF calls “BALL,” other OF get away and back up play

B. Popup rules

1. OF get everything he can get coming in – OF call off INF

2. INF must go back hard after popup until OF calls for ball

3. third base line behind 3B – SS calls off 3B, gets everything he can get from SS position into foul territory behind third

4. first base line behind 1B – 2B calls off 1B, gets everything he can get from 2B position into foul territory behind first

5. any INF call off P

6. 1B and 3B call off C

7. P direct traffic on infield popup – P call for which player to take it

8. CALL FOR THE BALL

a. INF who calls for popup yell “BALL”

b. other INF acknowledge call by answering “TAKE IT”

c. follow rules for which INF has control of popup

d. if OF calls “BALL,” INF get away and yell “TAKE IT”

e. if OF cannot get to popup, yell “TAKE IT” to INF and back up play

C. Outfield cutoff rules

1. on every ball that goes over, through or by an outfielder, OF must hit the front cutoff man, regardless of where the runners are

2. SS/2B use the double cutoff

a. SS front cutoff man on balls to left field and left center – 2B ten feet behind him in line with throw

b. 2B front cutoff man on balls to right field and right center – SS ten feet behind him in line with throw

c. back cutoff man must watch baserunner and direct front cutoff man’s throw

d. back cutoff man must catch the ball and make throw if the cutoff throw is bad

e. 1B – watch hitter touch first, trail hitter to second; if hitter rounds and goes to third, 1B should fall off into infield to be cutoff man

f. 3B stay at bag on ball over, through or by outfielders – no cutoff responsibility on ball hit over or through outfielders

g. P must back up third or home – DO NOT STAND AT THE MOUND AND WATCH – P IS NOT A CUTOFF MAN

D. Infield cutoff rules

1. ball over, through, or by OF – SS and 2B double cutoff, 3B covers third, 1B trails runner

2. on all throws to INF cutoff man, communicate loudly

a. INF or C who is lining up play must tell cutoff man what to do

b. yell “ONE,” “TWO,” “THREE,” or “FOUR” for cut and throw to a base – no need to say “CUT,” yell number of base only

c. yell “CUT” to have the cutoff man catch the ball and hold it

d. do not wait until the ball is on top of the cutoff man – give him time to make the play

3. hit or fly to LF, play at home

a. 3B is cutoff man

b. C line up cutoff man for throw to home

c. SS cover third

d. 2B cover second

e. 1B cover first – get hitter rounding bag too far

f. P back up home

g. LF throw ball through head of cutoff man to home

h. if throw is too high, cutoff man fake cut and throw to second – do not jump for high throw

4. hit or fly to CF, play at home

a. 1B is cutoff man

b. C line up cutoff man for throw to home

c. 3B cover third

d. SS or 2B cover second, depends on whether hit is to left center or right center and whether there may be play at third

e. if possible throw to third, SS cutoff man for throw to third, 2B cover second

f. P back up home

g. CF throw ball through head of cutoff man to home

h. if throw is too high, cutoff man fake cut and throw to second – do not jump for high throw

5. hit or fly to RF, play at home

a. 1B is cutoff man

b. C line up cutoff man for throw to home

c. SS cover second (if no possible throw to third)

d. 2B cover first (if no possible throw to third)

e. if possible throw to third, SS cutoff man for throw to third, 2B cover second

f. 3B cover third

g. P back up home

h. RF throw ball through head of cutoff man to home

i. if throw is too high, cutoff man fake cut and throw to second – do not jump for high throw

6. hit or fly to LF, play at third

a. 3B cover third

b. 2B cover second

c. 1B cover first

d. P back up third

e. LF throw through to 3B, no cutoff necessary, SS stay out of the way

7. hit or fly to CF, play at third

a. SS is cutoff man

b. 3B line up cutoff man for throw to third

c. 2B cover second

d. 1B cover first

e. P back up third

f. CF throw ball through head of cutoff man to third

g. if throw is too high, cutoff man fake cut and throw to second – do not jump for high throw

8. hit or fly to RF, play at third

a. SS is cutoff man

b. 3B line up cutoff man

c. 2B cover second

d. 1B cover first

e. P back up third

f. RF throw ball through head of cutoff man to third

g. if throw is too high, cutoff man fake cut and throw to second – do not jump for high throw

9. OF must talk about where to throw the ball

a. often the throw to home is wasted and the best play is to keep the hitter from moving to second

b. know the situation and do not waste a throw

c. if there is no play on the lead runner, throw to keep the other runner or the hitter from moving up an extra base

E. Bunt defense rules

1. C call throw – take charge

2. runner at first only

a. 1B charge, has first base line

b. 3B charge, has third base line

c. P charge, has middle

d. 2B break to first – do not be late, cheat to first

e. SS cover second

f. do not leave third uncovered – C, P, LF or 3B can get there, depending on who fields the ball

3. runners at first and second

a. C call play

(1) Regular – C call “Blue”

(a) SS keep runner close to second

(b) 1B charge, has first base line

(c) P has third base line – P MUST field ball bunted to third

(d) 3B stay at bag unless ball gets by P

(2) Wheel – C call “White”

(a) purpose is to get force at third

(b) 2B keep runner close to second, break hard to first on pitcher’s head turn to plate

(c) SS cheat to third and break on pitcher’s head turn to plate

(d) 3B play in and charge hard, has third base line

(e) P has middle

(f) 1B charge, has first base line

(g) 2B cover first

(h) use only when we really need the out at third

b. coach must call play for C, C relay call to infielders

4. squeeze defense – runner at third

a. 3B must recognize play and yell “going”

b. AUTOMATIC PITCHOUT – C must recognize and jump outside, P must recognize and throw pitchout

5. runner at second only

a. same as Regular (Blue)

b. SS keep runner close to second

c. P has third base line

d. 3B stay at bag unless ball gets by P

e. 1B charge, has first base line

f. 2B cover first

g. SS cover second

h. we may use Wheel play (White) if we really must keep the runner off third

F. Double steal defense

1. first and third plays

a. coach must call play for C

b. C relay play to infielders

c. C give signs to infielders

(1) C hand on head

(a) throw through to second

(b) C look at third as he is coming out to throw to second – look runner back

(c) 3B signal “touchdown” if runner has irresponsible lead – C throw to third on “touchdown” signal

(d) SS or 2B on throw to second – whoever is not covering, watch runner at third and yell “4” or “tag him”

(e) if call is “4,” INF who is covering must run to meet throw from C and throw home

(f) if call is “tag him,” INF covering second stay at bag and tag stealing runner

(2) C hand on mask

(a) C throw high to P – make it look like a throw through to second

(b) C do not look runner at third back

(c) P cut ball off and throw to third

(3) C hand on chest protector

(a) C fake throw to second

(b) C do not look runner at third back

(c) C throw down line to third

(d) C try to make runner at third duck throw

(4) C call “Black”

(a) P fake pickoff throw to third and then throw to first

(b) good play if runner at first has big lead or is moving far away from the base with each pitch

(c) good play on 3-2 count with two outs or in any situation when the runner at first is likely to be running

(d) P can use this play on his own without the “Black” call – do not overuse, save for when we really need the out

2. first and second – both running

a. we must cover both third and second

b. ordinarily the throw will be to third to get the front runner

c. C has the discretion to throw to second to get the trail runner if the runner at first is slow or is loafing

d. be alert at second on this play – this could get a big out

G. Pickoffs

1. daylight play at second base – SS or 2B break to second and throw glove (SS) or bare hand (2B) out

a. P must throw to bag OR step off

b. P must not deliver pitch with SS or 2B at or breaking to bag

2. timing play at second base

a. SS give sign to P, hand across letters, P acknowledge – touch cap bill

b. SS break, touch second base, return to position in front of runner

c. P (on SS touch) – turn head and look to home, count thousand & one, thousand & two, turn and throw

d. 2B – count thousand & one, break to bag (we may be able to count to two here)

3. bases loaded or runner at second and third, P full wind-up, pick runner off second

a. coach must call this play for SS

b. SS give sign to C after coach calls play – adjust cup

c. C give sign to P – closed fist, hold fist steady, wait for SS to break

d. P wait, looking in for sign

e. SS allow runner at second to go as far as he will go

f. SS break to bag when he is ready

g. C throw open hand down on SS break

h. P turn and throw to second when open hand goes down

i. if runner at second does not get off far enough, SS call off play by telling P to step off

4. runners at first and second – 1B behind runner, pick runner off first

a. coach must call this play for 1B

b. 1B sign to P – adjust cup

c. P acknowledge sign – touch cap bill

d. RH P

(1) P stretch, look at second base, see 1B out of corner of right eye, wait for 1B to break

(2) 1B let runner at first go as far as he will go

(3) 1B break to bag when ready

(4) P turn and throw to first on 1B break

(5) 1B call off play by telling P to step off

e. LH P

(1) stretch, let runner come to stop

(2) P raise knee to throw

(3) 1B break to bag when P knee comes up

(4) P throw to first with normal move

5. runner at third

a. RH P

(1) 3B give sign to P – hand across letters

(2) P acknowledge sign – touch cap bill

(3) P take stretch and wait

(4) 3B break when ready

(5) P step off when 3B breaks, snap throw to third

(6) RH P can also raise knee and throw on 3B break

(7) 3B call off play by telling P to step off

b. LH P

(1) stretch, look to second, see 3B out of corner of left eye, wait for 3B to break

(2) 3B let runner at third go as far down the line as he will go

(3) 3B break to bag when ready

(4) P throw to third on 3B break

(5) 3B call off play by telling P to step off

6. C pickoffs

a. C look at INF, scoop up dirt and throw it down

b. INF acknowledge – touch cap bill

c. with or without pitchout, C come out throwing

7. bunt situation pickoff – runner at first

a. coach must call play for C

b. C give sign to infielders – step out front, alert INF “watch for bunt,” give number of outs, adjust cup

c. 2B and 1B must acknowledge – touch cap bill

d. 3B and 1B in on grass moving toward plate – charge hard on pitch

e. 2B must cheat to first before pitch

f. pitch out

g. when P moves to home, 1B break hard to plate, 2B break to first

h. C come out throwing to first, 2B covers

8. bunt situation pickoffs – runners at first and second

a. fake Wheel play

(1) run this pickoff immediately after running Wheel (White) and unsuccessful bunt

(2) coach call play for C

(3) C call “Gray”

(4) P stretch and look at second

(5) SS start cheating to third

(6) 2B do not hold runner on, wait

(7) P turn toward home, SS break to third as turn begins, 2B break to bag when P looks at home

(8) P turn immediately and throw to bag

(9) timing play

b. fake daylight play

(1) run this play in a certain bunt situation

(2) coach call play for C

(3) C call “Red”

(4) SS fake daylight pickoff – break hard to bag with glove out – call for ball

(5) bench yell “back”

(6) PITCHER MUST NOT THROW TO SECOND

(7) PITCHER MUST THROW STRIKE FOR HITTER TO BUNT

(8) if this play works, the runner will be diving or sliding back into second as the hitter bunts – we will get an easy force out at third

(9) if runner at second does not react to SS move to bag, P step off

9. WE MUST RECOGNIZE SITUATIONS WHEN A PLAY MAY BE ON DO NOT MAKE THE COACH TIP THE PLAY BY HAVING TO TELL YOU TO LOOK FOR THE SIGN

H. Steal defense

1. Pitchers must work on holding runners close, being quick to home, slide step, vary number of looks to first, throw to first at different points in the stretch

2. Pitchout – coach must call – C sign to P is fist with thumb pointing at empty batter’s box

3. C must have quick release and good footwork to the ball

4. INF who is not covering – hold your position through the swing to protect against the hit and run

IV. Offensive Plays

A. Hit and Run – play described under “Signs”

B. Bunt and Run – play described under “Signs”

C. Squeeze – play described under “Signs”

D. Fake bunt swing – play described under “Signs”

E. Steal – play described under “Signs”

F. Double steal – runners at first and third

1. #1 – steal sign + 1 finger

a. runner at first deliberately get picked off – rundown and/or break for second

b. runner at third break for home when 1B throws ball to second

2. #2 – steal sign + 2 fingers

a. runner at first break when C stands to throw to P

b. runner at third break for home when C throws to second base

3. #3 – steal sign + 3 fingers

a. runner at first break when P goes into stretch

b. if P does not balk and steps off, runner at first get in rundown

c. runner at third break for home when P throws ball

4. on #1, 2 & 3, runner at first must not run into an out, stay in rundown until runner at third scores

5. straight steal

a. steal sign to runner at first, no numbers

b. runner at first try to steal second

c. third base coach will tell runner at third whether to stay or go

d. if going, the runner at third must have a good lead and break as soon as the throw goes over the pitcher’s head

V. Team Rules

A. Help each other, encourage each other – NO criticism of each other – WE ARE A TEAM

B. NO tantrums, NO throwing bats, helmets, gloves or any other equipment

C. NO taunting or mouthing of any kind to our opponents or to the umpires

D. Sprint on and off field – hustle on every play

E. Physical errors are part of the game but mental errors should not occur – repeated mental errors will get you a place on the bench

F. Go to class, stay out of trouble, make your grades, ask for academic help if you need it – there is no good reason for anyone to be ineligible

G. Represent McCallum with class, on and off the field

H. THE 4A STATE CHAMPIONSHIP IS OUR GOAL THIS YEAR AND EVERY YEAR

The favorite sport of many who call themselves fans of the Houston Astros does not appear to be baseball.  Their favorite sport seems to be “Jimy-bashing,” and it looks like a very easy game to master.  To be an accomplished practitioner, one has to take note of decisions or moves Jimy Williams makes during games, keep absolutely silent if the decisions work and, in the most strident tones possible, rail at or ridicule the ones that do not work.  There is no way the Jimy-basher can be wrong because he or she only points out decisions that have not turned out well for the Astros.  The refrain is if Jimy had only … everything would have been different and better.  Jimy-bashers have raised second-guessing to an art form and are infallible.  To confirm this, just ask them.  Jimy Williams gets bashed in Texas and other Astros environs, but second-guessing a baseball manager or coach is part of our national fabric. Astros fans have seen the two extremes in managing style in the last two years.  Larry Dierker, the skipper in 2001 and the previous four seasons, was the epitome of a set lineup, let ’em play manager.  Dierker rarely changed lineups or made decisions that were visible from the stands or armchairs at home, and he seemingly attended many games as a spectator from his great seat in the dugout.  Jimy Williams, in vivid contrast, uses many lineups and all his players, and he manages the games very actively.  No one can ever accuse Williams of merely watching the games, and many of his decisions are readily apparent to even the casual fan.  Because Williams is so much more active than Dierker during games, there is much more vocal criticism of the manager when things are not going well.  Virtually every Williams decision that does not work is second-guessed mercilessly, and some fans have blamed losses directly on Williams’ decisions.

So, what does a manager do to win or lose a game all by himself?  Absolutely nothing because he cannot execute his decisions.  Players make the manager’s decisions look brilliant or stupid by their ability or inability to perform in the situations he puts them.  If a player performs poorly, he should be held responsible for his failure, but all too often, fans blame the manager for a “dumb” decision to use the player who failed or to call for a play that does not work.  Unless, however, a manager calls for something foolish, such as a two-out squeeze bunt, or uses a player who simply cannot, as opposed to does not, handle the situation, the players are responsible for the result on the field, not the manager.

A manager can, of course, have an effect on games and often does by his decisions throughout the course of a game.  His first opportunity to affect the game occurs when he fills out the lineup card.  Selecting a lineup and batting order is part statistical analysis, part observation and memory and part divine inspiration.  Each manager may have his own ideas about how to determine a batting order, but there are more or less universal principles governing this decision:  the 1-2 positions are get-on-base, “table setter” slots, the 3-4-5-6 slots are for the best hitters and run producers, the 7 position is for the next best hitter, and the 8 hole hitter must be able to get on base enough to avoid, as much as possible, the pitcher’s having to lead off an inning.  

Matching the talents of his available players with the requirements of the various batting positions is the trick, and an effective batting order requires the manager’s knowledge of his players’ abilities, consideration of who is hot and who is not, and review of historical matchup statistics for each hitter against the opposing pitcher.  A professional manager has more flexibility in setting a lineup and a batting order than a high school or college coach because he has more guys on his roster who really can play.  For me as a high school coach, the batting order was set in stone once I decided on the lineup; the batting order just fell into place, and I did not change the order unless someone was injured or going so bad that I had to replace him.  Some professional managers use the same lineup and batting order day in and day out, too, but many others move hitters in and out of the lineup and change the order from game to game.  There is no “right” way to do it, but both methods require getting hitters into the best position to be productive.  

A delicate task for the professional manager is to play his bench players enough to keep them sharp and to keep his regulars rested.  He must change the lineup for this purpose without bruising the egos of the regulars who expect to play every day, and this juggling act will require the manager to be both a diplomat and a dictator.  High school and college coaches do not have this problem often because they do not have games every day and there is a more clear disparity between the ability of the regulars and of the bench players.  When bench players are in the lineup, the batting order becomes more important and more difficult to determine.  Filling out the lineup card each day is an important managerial function that requires baseball erudition and some diplomacy, not just adequate penmanship.

During games there are countless ways for a manager to affect a game, but seldom, if ever, will a manager be guilty of losing a game solely because his decision does not work.  Every base runner gives the manager of the offensive team an opportunity to make a decision:  take sign or hit away, steal or do not run, hit and run, sacrifice, bunt and run, fake bunt and steal, fake bunt and hit away, double steal, start the runner, squeeze bunt-what should he call or should he do nothing?  A game’s score and the inning will have a significant impact on a manager’s thinking, and so will the talent available to him.  In any given situation, several of these choices will be reasonable and sound, and all may succeed or fail.  These decisions must be made during the interval between pitches, under the stress, pressure and excitement of the specific game, and in time to relay a signal to a base coach to be relayed to the players.  Once made, the decisions become irrevocable when the pitcher begins his windup.  In addition, the best managers are thinking several hitters ahead, not just several pitches ahead.  

A manager of the defensive team also has many decisions to make, and he has the same amount of time in which to make them:  infield up or back, shade the hitter to pull or hit late, what pitch to call, intentional walk or pitch around, pitch out, wheel play, double steal defense, who covers second, hold the runner at first or play behind him, pickoff plays, bunt defense, throw home or get two-what should the defense do?  Some situations call for multiple decisions to be made at once in the interval between pitches.  For example, with runners at first and third and one out in the late innings of a tie game, the manager must decide when he wants his infielders to throw home and when to go for the double play, whether to bring the infield in or leave them back, how to defend a possible double steal, how to defend the squeeze play, whether to pitch out, how deep to have his outfielders, whether his fielders should shade one side of the diamond or the other, how to pitch to the hitter and whether to change pitchers.  If the runner at first steals second, then the required decisions change.  

A manager must be aware of all of the possible situations that can occur if the ball is put in play, and he must try to have his players in position to make the proper play no matter where the ball is hit.  A manager can do everything “right,” but his decision still is at the mercy of his players’ execution and also is at the mercy of the opponents’ execution.  If a manager calls for a squeeze bunt and catches the opponent completely off guard but his hitter pops up the bunt or his opponents pitch out, fans will call for the manager’s head.  If his player misses the ball, throws it away or to the wrong base or otherwise screws up the play or if the hitter simply gets a clutch hit, the manager’s brilliance is to no avail.  Did Joe Torre lose the seventh game of the 2001 World Series by having his infield play in or did Luis Gonzales win it by fighting off Riveria’s tough cut fastball and fisting it over the infield?  Jimy-bashers would say the former, but the infield up or back decision became a simple one only after Gonzales hit the ball.

No decision inspires more livid second-guessing than the decision to change pitchers.  Unlike the decisions made from the dugout through signals, words and gestures, many of which go unnoticed, the decision to change pitchers is made in the center of the diamond with all eyes on the manager.  When a manager changes pitchers, the ultimate decision is a result of many smaller ones and a mental review of considerable information.  He needs to consider historical matchup statistics for available pitchers against the hitters they may face, who is hot and who is not in his pen, what the bullpen coach tells him about the pitchers who are warming up, possible pinch hitters after the pitching change, who has warmed up already in the game and how many times, when and how many recent outings available pitchers have made, and the likelihood of the current pitcher’s escaping the present jam.

Only after weighing all of this information, can the manager make the best decision on a pitching change.  Sometimes this decision is made for him by the current pitcher’s ineptitude or his frank admission that he is done, but the manager still must consider the relevant information to choose which reliever to bring in.  After all is said and done, however, the relief pitcher must do the job, and one cannot forget that the hitter is trying his best to do his job at the same time.  Blaming the manager for a relief pitcher’s poor performance or for the opposing hitter’s superior performance is the worst sort of 20-20 hindsight, ignores the ultimate responsibility that the players have for the outcome of games and disregards the effort of opponents.

Managers do not win games or lose games.  The best a manager can do is to put players in a position to win games, but even the best baseball tactician is limited by the talent on hand, and success or failure of his decision completely depends upon his players’ performance.  A manager will have many reasonable decisions available to him in most situations, and any of these decisions can be right or wrong in fans’ eyes depending on the result on the field.  The defining moment of the Astros’ 2001 playoff series with the Braves provides a good illustration.  Ahead 2-1 late in the game, Larry Dierker decided to remove his starter, but he brought in Mike Jackson instead of Octavio Dotel.  Jackson coughed up the lead, and the Astros lost not only the game but also the psychological advantage of winning the first game of a playoff series.  To paraphrase Bum Phillips, Dierker caught more hell than a little bit over this decision because it failed; the decision and his reaction to media criticism of it likely were major factors resulting in his forced “retirement.”

The criticism certainly was understandable because Dotel had been dominant as a setup man for most of the season, but was Dierker’s decision “wrong” in the sense that he did not consider the relevant information and come to a reasonable conclusion?  Dierker had valid baseball reasons for using Jackson.  Dotel’s recent outings included some shaky ones, and Jackson also had been reliable as a late inning reliever.  Dotel was in his first season as a dominant pitcher, and Jackson was a veteran with many years’ successful experience in tight situations.  Dotel was the more popular choice and might have been a better choice, in retrospect, but had Jackson shut out the Braves and turned the game over to Billy Wagner with a lead, there would have been no fan or media criticism at all.  

Scorn and derision rained down on Dierker solely because Mike Jackson did not do his job when called upon or because the Braves’ hitters made the most of their opportunity to do theirs.  Second-guessing presupposes that there is only one “right” decision in any given baseball situation, but that simply is not true.  Criticism of Dierker’s decision is fair because there were other reasonable options; saying Dierker lost the game is unfair and untrue.

So what then can or should fans expect from their team’s manager or, put differently, what makes a manager or a coach great?  Certainly a great manager will understand “inside baseball” completely; he will be an excellent strategist and tactician, and he will be willing to adapt his style of managing to the individual skills of the players available to him from year to year.  He will not stubbornly wait for the three-run home run if his team has no power, and he will not recklessly run his team into easy outs if his team has no speed.

The great manager will be able to handle 25 men, and that does not require them to like him.  He must gain their confidence in his knowledge of baseball, he must be able to motivate them to do their best, which is not easy to do with professional ballplayers, and he must have sufficient discipline so that the players accept that he is running the team and respect his authority.  Winning creates team “chemistry” so the manager must maximize the team’s opportunities to win games by intelligent use of his players, by making sound game decisions that are based upon the information and talent available to him and by seizing the occasional opportunity in a game in which his decision can truly make a difference.  After that, it is up to the players to win the games.  All fans should expect from the manager is that he gets the players into position to win the games and does not hinder their ability to do so.

There is no absolute right or wrong for decisions of managers or coaches during baseball games.  More than one decision is fundamentally sound in terms of baseball strategy for most situations, and as long as a decision does not put players in an impossible situation, then there are many choices that may succeed.  Since time immemorial, however, decisions that do not succeed have been decried as “dumb” or “stupid” or worse, and second-guessing seems to be at an all-time high.  Every parent in the stands at a Little League or high school game claims to know far more than the coach, and the proliferation of fantasy baseball leagues has made many armchair managers think they are superior in baseball acumen to Casey Stengel or John McGraw in their primes.  Fans simply cannot expect managers to win games, and fans should not blame managers for losses.  Players are responsible for hits and errors, home runs and strikeouts, and wins and losses.  

Try to make a manager’s decisions yourself between pitches at the next game you attend.  Is it any wonder that some managers take the “let ’em play” approach?  Making decisions pitch by pitch is hard work that requires alertness and quick thinking, and the bottom line is that even the most brilliant decisions possible still must be executed by the players.  If players fail to execute, the decision does not work, and the opponent wins that particular skirmish.  Does that failure make the manager’s decision dumb?  Of course not, but all too often the manager receives the blame for a player’s failure to execute.  

Think along with the manager at the next game, but decide what to do BEFORE the next pitch.  It is not easy, is it?  Do managers make wrong decisions?  If “wrong” is judged by whether the decision works, then most managers will admit to being “wrong.”  That should not be the standard for the thinking fan, however, and what the fan should demand is that his manager make a sound baseball decision, within the limits of his players’ abilities, that is reasonable under the circumstances of the game situation.  Many decisions may work and many may not, but only unreasonable, unrealistic or unsound decisions should be ridiculed.  Jimy-bashing is in vogue, but it is no more than 20-20 hindsight and second-guessing at its worst.  Examine the various decisions that are possible during games, and analyze the manager’s available options and the reasoning behind them.  That is a far more enjoyable way to watch and discuss this great game.

Knowing the Pitchers

Perhaps the most overlooked attribute of any outstanding catcher is a comprehensive knowledge of his pitchers.  The upper echelon catcher is part psychologist.  The catcher must know the best pitch of each pitcher and, more important, he must know the pitch that each pitcher likes, or wants, to throw in any given situation.  When a pitcher says about a catcher that “he calls a great game,” he really means that “he calls what I want to throw when I want to throw it.”  All but the most inexperienced pitchers will call their own game by shaking off signs until the catcher calls the pitch they want, and a catcher and a pitcher are in synch primarily because the catcher calls for the pitch he knows the pitcher believes in and wants to throw.  Occasionally, a catcher will insist on a specific pitch because of something he has seen or because the manager wants it thrown, but as a general rule, the catcher only suggests pitches and the pitcher accepts or rejects these suggestions.

The catcher must know his pitchers’ individual psyches so that he can motivate each pitcher most effectively.  There are several times in any game in which a catcher can provide a pitcher an emotional boost to his physical performance.  He must know which pitchers require a pat on the back and which require a kick in the backside.  The catcher who understands how to motivate each pitcher on his staff will not behave the same on each trip to the mound during times of trouble; his words of wisdom will be delivered in a soothing, encouraging tone to those who need stroking and in an in-your-face, challenging manner to those who need stronger handling.  Knowing the precise motivational technique to use for each pitcher separates the Brad Ausmuses of the game from the Mitch Meluskeys.

A catcher must know pitching mechanics and must immediately be able to recognize flaws in his hurlers’ deliveries.  In many games, observant fans can see a catcher reminding his pitcher to keep his elbow up or to keep his front shoulder closed or to use a lower release point.  He does so with gestures that every pitcher recognizes.  Not only does the outstanding catcher focus on the pitch but also he focuses on the mechanics of each delivery.  The best catchers are pitching coaches on the field and can prevent the necessity of a trip to the mound by a manager or coach.  All a pitcher may need is a reminder to concentrate or a mention of a flaw in his mechanics, and the catcher who knows his pitchers and watches them closely can coach them between pitches.

Blocking Pitches

Pitchers appreciate most a catcher’s ability to block balls in the dirt.  An obvious result of this skill is that baserunners will not move up if the catcher saves a wild pitch.  In some situations, in the dirt is exactly where the pitcher wants to throw the ball.  A catcher who blocks the low pitch with regularity instills tremendous confidence in his pitcher and makes him a much more effective competitor, especially with two strikes on the hitter.  A pitcher whose out  pitch is a curve or slider will not hesitate to throw it in the dirt, even with an important run on third.  This is a tremendous advantage for the pitcher that his catcher enables him to have.

A catcher acquires this skill only through hard, dirty, and sometimes painful work, and he receives no statistical accolades or awards for his effort.  Only constant practice blocking ball after ball, usually thrown hard at close range by a coach, enables a catcher to become proficient at blocking the ball in the dirt with his body.  A player’s instinctive move is to try to catch the ball, and the catcher must overcome his natural desire to avoid being hit.  Blocking the pitch that bounces results from a catcher’s pure selfless effort which helps a pitcher and his team, and this gritty talent separates the great catcher from one who merely looks pretty catching the ball.

Knowing the Hitters

To be outstanding, a catcher must do much more to help his pitcher than put down signs and catch the ball.  He also must be aware of the strengths and weaknesses of each opposing hitter, and he must watch the hitter carefully between pitches for any subtle clue that will show him what pitch and location the hitter is looking for.  Among the clues he will watch for are:  whether the hitter is up in the box anticipating a breaking pitch or back in the box expecting hard stuff; whether the hitter’s stance is open or closed; whether the hitter is close to the plate or far away; whether the position of the hitters’ hands will make him vulnerable to a particular location; whether the hitter is pulling off of or diving into the pitch; and whether the hitter is trying to make adjustments with his stance or hands to the way he is being pitched.

All of these clues, some of which the hitter does not know he is giving, together with the catcher’s knowledge of the hitter and the scouting report, will enable the observant catcher to suggest the next pitch and its location.  The ordinary catcher merely puts fingers down and catches the ball with no thought of adjusting to what the hitter is showing him.  The outstanding catcher does as much or more with his eyes and his brain as he does with his mitt.  Pitchers must hit spots, but the catcher must choose the correct spots for him to hit.  The catcher who does not think or watch for clues from the hitter cannot help the pitcher locate his pitches in the hitter’s weakness and will not help him adjust to what the hitter is doing.  If the catcher does not know the hitters and does not observe their every move, he is a breathing backstop and nothing more.

Throwing

A catcher who throws well can restrict the opponent’s running game, either by his arm or by the threat of his arm.  Catchers can help pitchers merely by having a reputation for making a strong accurate throw with a quick release.  Having this reputation as a strong thrower often is almost as effective as actually throwing a runner out.  A catcher should try to throw his best during infield practice and between innings.  Opposing coaches and managers are influenced by what they see during practice, and they may be reluctant to call for a steal, especially in a crucial situation, if they believe the catcher has a good chance to throw out the runner.  The great catcher helps his pitcher by throwing base stealers out, of course, but he helps almost as much by keeping that runner at first, and the double play in order, by the threat of his arm.

Receiving the Ball

Great catchers receive the ball softly; poor catchers box the ball, or snatch at it, and often bobble the ball or miss it entirely.  The catcher who receives the ball gently, always catching the ball smoothly and fluidly toward the middle of his body and the strike zone, will help his pitcher get close calls for strikes.  A good catcher will never push the ball away from the strike zone; he will catch the low pitch coming up, the high pitch coming down, and he will bring every pitch toward the strike zone as he catches it.  Framing a pitch is not grabbing the pitch and jerking it into the zone.  The superlative catcher will receive the ball by catching it softly, moving it into his body with the catch, and through good footwork, he will immediately be in position to throw as he catches the ball.  The casual fan may never be aware that the catcher has moved the ball as he caught it.

A lost art for many modern catchers is providing the pitcher a strong and steady target with the mitt.  Too many catchers today never give a target until the pitcher is well into the windup or never give a target at all.  Worse still, many catchers have their arms and hands constantly moving throughout the windup and delivery.  The lack of a clear target is annoying to a pitcher at best, and at worst this gives the pitcher no spot to focus on and harms his ability to locate his pitches well.  A catcher can help his pitcher by giving the widest possible target with his open mitt immediately after the pitcher takes the sign.  The target should be held steady until the pitcher releases the ball.  If a catcher never puts his mitt up as a target or keeps the mitt or his hands moving, there is no constant spot for the pitcher’s focus, and the moving or nonexistent target can distract the pitcher.  Most pitchers appreciate a catcher who gives a good, solid target; all pitchers should demand it.

Offense

Baseball history is replete with names and records of catchers who were high average hitters and run producers; Berra, Campanella, Bench, Dickey, Fisk and others were very good hitters.  Ivan Rodriguez certainly is in that category today.  Offense was important for them, but they were excellent defensive players, too.  Rarely – Piazza comes to mind – will a catcher’s production on offense overcome his lack of defensive skills at his position.  If a catcher cannot handle his staff and throw, his batting average and RBI will help the team more at another position.

A catcher must provide many intangible benefits to his pitching staff and must be able to master the difficult technical skills the position requires or he is of no real use to the pitchers who depend on him on every pitch.  Being able to drive in 100 runs is of no immediate help to the pitcher who is in a jam and needs his catcher’s help to work his way out of it.  A strong offensive game is a wonderful attribute for a catcher to have, but it is a luxury, not a necessity.

Earning Teammates’ Confidence

Perhaps the most important intangible characteristic of an outstanding catcher is the confidence that his pitchers and other teammates have in him.  A catcher must be a leader, and he must have the respect of his teammates, especially the pitching staff.  An infielder or outfielder can be a self-centered jerk without having much effect on the team’s success, but the catcher cannot.  The catcher must be tough on his pitcher when the situation warrants, and the pitcher who is being upbraided for a lack of concentration or poor location must respect the person lecturing him.  If the pitcher does not respect his catcher, nothing positive will result from the catcher’s visit to the mound.  In addition, the catcher may ask a pitcher to throw a pitch that is not his best because he has seen something in the hitter’s approach that convinced him that going away from the normal pattern will be successful.  Only the pitcher with absolute confidence in his catcher’s knowledge and judgment can do this and, more important, avoid destructive second-guessing if the catcher’s choice of pitches gets hit hard.  Finally, only the catcher faces the other eight players, and he must take charge of the game by constantly reminding his teammates of situations and plays to be made.  By virtue of his position, the catcher is the team’s leader on the field, and he must be willing and able to lead.

The saga of Mitch Meluskey is an excellent example of the importance of a catcher’s having the confidence and respect of his teammates.  Meluskey, a brash, loud rookie, and a talented hitter, got nowhere in his efforts to motivate pitchers because they did not respect him and did not want to listen to him berate them.  A catcher does not have to be a veteran to earn confidence from his pitching staff, but he does have to work hard at defense and at learning the game.  Meluskey, however, appeared to care little about defense or about handling pitchers.  He was a hitter whose defense seemed to be little more than an afterthought.  He missed his opportunity, or did not want it, to win the respect of his peers by supporting his pitchers with strong, intelligent defense.  After just one year with Meluskey behind the plate, the Astros shipped him to Detroit and obscurity and brought back Brad Ausmus.  The team’s pitchers unanimously applauded this trade and, to a man, exuded confidence in Ausmus, his defense and his ability to handle pitchers.  There is no doubt that Meluskey was far superior to Ausmus as a hitter, but offense, without more, simply is not enough at the catcher position.

The time-honored formula for a successful baseball team, even today, is pitching and defense, and no position player is more important than the catcher when building a team.  A great catcher will make his pitching staff better and will prevent opponents’ runs with his glove, his arm and his head.  If he also can hit, that is a bonus, but offensive statistics are not the measure of a catcher’s worth to his team.  Watch him play the position or, better yet, ask his pitchers.

The outfielder must catch every ball he can reach coming toward the infield.  An infielder is never to call off an outfielder, and the outfielder must call for the ball as soon as he sees he can catch it.  The infielder should go into the outfield intending to catch the ball until the outfielder calls for it and the infielder has to immediately get out of the way when the outfielder calls for the ball.  Not following this rule sometimes results in spectacular collisions, serious injuries and dropped fly balls.  The outfielder’s call always controls, even if the infielder already has called for the ball.

Rules also govern flies hit beyond the reach of an infielder.  The center fielder must catch every ball he can reach in the gaps, and he must call off the left fielder and the right fielder if he can get to the ball.  When the center fielder calls for the ball, the left fielder or right fielder immediately move to a position behind him to back up the play.  The center fielder’s call always controls.  Rules for cutoffs and infielders’ positioning on throws from the outfield also are very important but were discussed in detail in a previous Dugout article.

Popup Rules

The pitcher is the “traffic cop” for any ball popped up inside the infield dirt.  He must call for a specific player to catch the ball, and this especially is important for the popup that is directly above the mound.  The pitcher should never call for the ball himself, unless it is hit very low, and the infielders rarely should let the pitcher catch a popup.  The pitcher will prevent a collision by calling loudly and often for the person he chooses to catch the ball.  More often than not, the first baseman, third baseman and catcher will converge at the mound, and it is up to the pitcher to avert disaster and to assist the putout by directing the traffic to and away from the ball.  The pitcher’s call supercedes any earlier call by an infielder.

The shortstop must catch any popup hit behind the third baseman, including into foul territory all the way to the stands.  He has a much better angle on the ball and should call off the third baseman as soon as he sees he can get to the ball.  The third baseman is to give way and return to the bag as soon as he hears the shortstop call for the ball.  A similar rule governs any popup hit behind the first baseman.  The second baseman must take any ball hit behind the first baseman, including into foul territory to the stands, and he should call off the first baseman as soon as he determines he can get to the ball.  When the first baseman hears the second baseman’s call, he should get away immediately and return to the bag for a possible play if the ball drops.

Ground Ball Rules

There are rules to follow in the infield also.  On a ball hit in the hole between third and short, the third baseman must get any ball he can reach going to his left.  His path is a straight line toward second base, rather than back into the hole, and he should catch the ball if he can reach it as he extends himself toward second base.  The third baseman driving to his left has a much easier throw than the shortstop does from the hole.  If the third baseman intercepts the ball that is headed toward the hole, the shortstop should continue to his right and cover third base.

A similar rule applies to the second baseman on balls hit to his left.  He must call off the first baseman as soon as he determines that he can reach the ball hit between him and the first baseman.  By making the play going to his left, the second baseman will allow the first baseman to return to the bag for the short throw.  If the first baseman ranges to his right unnecessarily far, the pitcher will have to cover first, and getting the out becomes much harder because of the more difficult throw to the pitcher running toward the bag.  The second baseman must call for the ball as early as possible, and the first baseman then will immediately retreat to the bag to receive the throw.  The pitcher will be there, too, because his rule is to move quickly toward first base on all balls hit to the right side of the infield.  The catcher must yell “get over there” to the pitcher as a reminder every time the ball is hit to the right side, and the pitcher has to stay out of the way when he sees he is not needed to cover first.

Bunt Rules

The catcher is the “traffic cop” on all bunts or dribblers in front of the plate.  With runners on, he must direct the throw of the pitcher, first baseman or third baseman fielding the bunt.  Whether the catcher is right or wrong in his decision, the defender must throw the ball to the base called by the catcher.  To allow the defenders the discretion to ignore the catcher’s call may result in indecision and delay and may also result in getting no outs on the play.

Bunt coverage is nothing but following rules, and there are multiple options for some situations; a signal will determine the choice of coverage before the pitch.  For a simple sacrifice bunt with a runner at first, the first baseman and third baseman charge hard down the lines and the pitcher covers the middle of the diamond.  The second baseman covers first base to receive the throw, and the shortstop covers second.  Third base is uncovered, and the left fielder, the pitcher or the catcher should move in that direction to cover the bag if the third baseman is making the play on the bunt.  If he does not field the ball, the third baseman has to retreat quickly to the bag.

In a bunt situation with runners at first and second, or a runner at second only, the decisions get more complex.  There essentially are two rules for defending a bunt when a play at third may be possible.  The safer coverage requires the third baseman to stay back at the bag, the pitcher to break quickly to his right to cover the third base line, and the first baseman to charge to cover the first base line.  As before, the second baseman covers first for the throw, and the shortstop covers second.

A variation to this bunt coverage, usually called the “wheel,” is designed to try to retire the runner who is trying to advance from second to third.  Because this play is a gamble and creates holes in the infield, teams usually do not use it unless the run at second base is very important.  When the wheel play is on, the shortstop cheats toward third base in his initial alignment and sprints toward third base as the pitcher starts his delivery to the hitter.  The second baseman bluffs the runner back to second and then runs to cover first as the pitcher makes his delivery.  Both the first baseman and the third baseman charge hard down the lines, and the pitcher covers the middle.  Second base is uncovered, but the whole point of the play is to retire the runner moving into third.

As on all bunts, the catcher must determine and call where the ball should be thrown when the wheel is on, and the second baseman will be covering first for the easy out if a throw to third base is too risky.  Most teams have a pickoff play that starts like the wheel, with the second baseman covering at second after the shortstop starts running for third base.  Invariably, teams run the two complementary plays on consecutive pitches.  Watch for it.

Attempted Steal Rules

When a runner attempts to steal a base, the catcher cannot worry about who will cover the base.  He must throw the ball over the base as quickly and as accurately as possible and hope that someone is at the base to receive the throw.  Whether the shortstop or the second baseman will cover second base often is determined by what type of hitter is at the plate and by what pitch the pitcher will throw.  For example, the second baseman often will cover with a right-handed pull hitter at the plate or if the pitch is likely to be hit to the left side.  The two middle infielders signal each other on each pitch who will cover.  Important to this defensive situation is the first baseman, who has to yell “going” to alert the catcher and the middle infielders that the runner is breaking to second.  After that, defense against a steal is just a game of catch and throw.

At third base, of course, there is no decision about who will cover.  The third baseman should concentrate on the hitter, especially a right-hand hitter, and should hold his ground as long as possible before moving to cover third base.  For this situation, the shortstop has to yell “going” to alert the third baseman that the runner is coming.  The catcher must throw immediately and cannot wait for the third baseman to get to the bag.  If the hitter has not put the ball in play, the third baseman cannot tarry in getting to the bag for the throw.

A related defensive situation is the passed ball or wild pitch with a runner at third and other runners also on base.  The pitcher will cover home, but even more important to this play is the first baseman.  He must move to a position in front of the mound to back up the catcher’s throw to the pitcher covering home.  More often than not, the run will score, but if the first baseman does not follow his rule, an errant throw from the catcher will allow the other runners to move up two bases.

A double steal with runners at first and third presents several options to the defensive team.  Generally, a team will defense the double steal in one of three ways, and a signal from the catcher will inform the pitcher and infielders what option the manager wants.  Few defensive plays require as much coordinated effort as double steal defense does.

First, the catcher may “throw through” in an effort to throw out the runner stealing second base.  As the catcher comes out of his crouch to throw, he must look briefly at third in an effort to freeze that runner.  If the runner is breaking or has an irresponsible lead, the catcher may choose to throw to third immediately to trap him.  The third baseman has to be at the bag, and teams often have him signal the catcher to throw the ball to third instead of second if the runner’s lead at third base is too great.  This requires split second decision-making by the third baseman and instant recognition by the catcher.  

After his glance to third, the catcher will throw the ball on a line over the second base bag.  Either the shortstop or second baseman must go to the bag to cover; whichever middle infielder is not covering backs up the throw and watches the runner at third base.  If the runner at third breaks for home, the infielder who is not covering exercises his judgment to tell the covering infielder to tag the runner or to throw home.  If it is the latter, the infielder covering second base will leave the bag, run into the infield to meet the throw and throw the ball back to the catcher for a play at the plate.  Often, however, the defending team decides to concede the run in an effort to get a more sure out at second base.  In that event, the infielder covering the base will catch the throw and tag the runner with no decision to be made.

Next, the catcher may throw the ball back to the pitcher in an effort to trap the runner off third base.  On this play, the catcher does not look at the runner at third base before throwing because the defense wants him far off the base.  The catcher throws the ball over the pitcher’s head as though he is throwing through to second base.  The pitcher must reach up to cut the ball off and throw immediately to the third baseman at the bag.  If the pitcher is not alert, disaster may result in the form of a wild throw or a plunked pitcher.

Last, the catcher may fake a throw to second base and then throw to third base to trap the runner off the base.  As in the second option, the catcher will not look at third base as he comes out of his crouch to throw.  He must make a hard pump fake to second and then throw immediately down the third base line about head high over the bag.  If he is lucky, the runner at third will have to go to the ground to avoid being hit by the throw and will be an easy tagout for the third baseman.  By far, the highest percentage play of the double steal defense options for getting a sure out is to throw through to second base, and that option is used the large majority of the time by major league teams.

General Defensive Principles

The overriding principle of any good defensive team is to turn every routine play into at least one out.  Every routine play should be made.  Giving away outs by allowing extra outs generally results in runs.  Excellent defensive teams rarely leave bases uncovered; pitchers, catchers and outfielders should back up plays and cover bases when necessary.  Every ball hit into the air that can be caught has to be caught.  This requires the defenders to know the rules for defense and to call for the ball.  The cutoff man must be hit every time, and each player should be in the proper area of the field for each situation.

Each fielder, including the pitcher, must know the outs and the situation and anticipate that the ball will be hit to him.  The Little League coach’s adage of:  “know what you are going to do with the ball before it is hit” is good advice and works in every level of competitive baseball. Great defense is nothing more than recognizing situations and being consistent at catching and throwing the ball.

Defense wins championships, even in this hitters’ era.  The rules of defense determine who goes where and does what when he gets there, and there are very few truly spontaneous movements for an outstanding defensive club.  The players move in synchronized patterns to their required positions according to the rules, every base is covered, each player knows what to do with the ball, usually someone is directing the throw, and there is at least one player backing up every throw and every play.  When played according to the rules of defense, defensive baseball is a joy to watch.

As it is true that the most popular person to University of Texas fans in any given year is the Longhorns’ second string quarterback, it is also true that the most unpopular person to Houston Astros fans in any given year is the General Manager.  That poor soul’s in-season and off-season moves are scrutinized and dissected by the simulation gurus, the fantasy leaguers, the Play Station champions, and the anonymous Internet geniuses.  Folks whose sole physical activity has been popping the top of a can containing a malted beverage scornfully deride decisions made by management personnel who have spent their entire careers in professional baseball.

You see, baseball is part of the American fabric, and all Americans fancy themselves to be knowledgeable about all facets of the game from the front office to first base.  In the winter, Hot Stove League discussions and debates, during which fans cuss and discuss actual or anticipated roster moves, bring as much pleasure to many fans as the actual season does.  Wars have been fought with more temperate rhetoric than the most recent trade or free agent signing usually generates among baseball fans. The TalkZone is no different than any other Hot Stove League.  Every Todd, Ric and Arky has a plan for retooling the Astros, and there is little doubt that not one of these plans included Brian Hunter until last week.  Amazingly, Gerry Hunsicker continues to remake the Astros without seeking advice from the denizens of the TZ.  Undaunted by the Hun’s benign neglect, Hot Stove League discussions continue unabated in this forum and have reached incendiary levels with the recent moves of the budget-challenged GM.  

Millions of words have been written by TalkZone participants about what the Astros should do-who is affordable, who should be traded, who should be acquired, who is not worth having and how much of Drayton’s money should be spent.  I leave those machinations to folks who are smarter about those things than I, which seems to include most TZers. The purpose of this article is to examine the remaking of the Astros for the 2002 season from a coach’s perspective, limited by the players currently in the organization.  Not surprisingly, this dissertation will be light on statistics and financial details, and those despicable letters (OPS) will not even be mentioned in passing.

When I made my living as a coach, putting together a baseball team began with pitching, of course, but there were two very distinct components for position players: offense and defense.  Most of today’s yackball-crazed fantasy leaguers think only of offense, but for me, defense was at least equally important.  If I were retooling any team, from the McCallum Knights to the Houston Astros, I first would consider the defensive requirements of each position as I analyzed my personnel.  The primary goal for any team on defense is to make outs on every routine play and on an occasional difficult play.  This formula will produce championships more often than not.  The ideal defense would include the following characteristics:
   
C – ability to block balls in the dirt, strong and accurate throwing arm with a quick release
1B – ability to catch the ball wherever it is thrown, including in the dirt, any other defensive skills are gravy
2B – quick feet, adequate range and throwing arm, ability to turn the double play from all angles and positions without a perfect feed
SS – excellent range right and left, quickness, very strong throwing arm, ability to make the play in the hole consistently
3B – quick hands and feet, strong throwing arm, range to his left is a plus
RF – best outfielder on the team, very strong throwing arm, enough speed to get to the gap
CF – excellent range to both gaps, speed, average to above average throwing arm
LF – average to below average throwing arm is sufficient, the least skilled outfielder on the team can play left field

The next task is trying to fit the team’s personnel, including present members or possible acquisitions, into these defensive requirements without sacrificing so much offense that the team’s run production becomes anemic.  If it cannot be done, then players who are defensive liabilities but who can hit will be tolerated.  Gerry Hunsicker presently is undertaking this evaluative task.

For the Astros, only first base, second base and catcher are settled positions.  Jeff Bagwell has no peer as a defensive first baseman and gives the Astros much more than the position requires.  At second base, Craig Biggio has slowed considerably, and his range is greatly reduced.  Despite the obvious effects of age and injury on Biggio, he still makes all the routine plays and is excellent at turning the double play.  Brad Ausmus is an outstanding defensive catcher.  He handles everything in the dirt, and he intimidates and eliminates baserunners with his quick release and accurate arm.  As a bonus, he inspires great confidence in his pitching staff.  These three positions are set for the Astros, and the players manning them are of championship caliber.

Chaos reigns in the other five positions, however.  Center field is one of the two biggest question marks on this team, with shortstop being the other.  Although Richard Hidalgo is an adequate center fielder, perhaps he will be better than that if he loses the weight this winter that management would like to see him lose.  Trouble is, Hidalgo is the ideal right fielder.  He lacks the speed and range to be truly great in center field, he has a howitzer for an arm and he has proven himself to be a gifted corner outfielder. He would be great in right field if the Astros can replace him in center field.  If Hidalgo plays right field, though, who plays center field?  That is a substantial dilemma for this team.

Did you say Brian Hunter?  He does fit the defensive mold for a center fielder because of his speed and range, but he has not established himself as an every day center fielder despite many years of trying.  Hunter’s highest and best use may be as a late inning replacement, pinch runner and pinch hitter.  It is a real shame that Glenn Barker never mastered the nuances of the game at the major league level.  Barker is a truly marvelous defensive player who would be a perennial All-Star if the rules allowed him to play only when the other team is batting.

Left field appears to be better staffed than right field and center field if the Astros resist the temptation to trade any of their current outfielders.  Daryle Ward has made himself into a decent left fielder through sheer hard work under the tutelage of Jose Cruz.  Ward has a strong throwing arm and will catch any ball that he gets to.  Therein lies the rub, of course; his considerable bulk, although much less considerable than in previous years, greatly limits his range and speed.  Ward is no gazelle, but he will do fine in left field if he gets to play there.

The primary reason Ward may be elsewhere is named Lance Berkman, of course.  A superstar in waiting, Berkman can play all three outfield positions and get by, but left field is probably his best position because of his below average arm.  If the Astros acquire an every day center fielder (please, Gerry, not Hunter!), Hidalgo will go to his natural position of right field.  Berkman and Ward cannot both play left field in that case because the rules simply will not allow it.  A Ward-Hidalgo-Berkman outfield (left, center, right) will be no better than adequate defensively, and of the three, only Hidalgo is a “true” right fielder.  So, it appears obvious that Ward will be traded if the Astros acquire a center fielder and if Hunsicker’s reported promise that he will play regularly for some team in 2002 is accurate.  Only one thing is clear in the Astros’ muddled outfield situation:  Lance Berkman will be in the lineup every day.

The entire left side of the infield is up for grabs and should be interesting to watch in the off-season and in spring training.  There are no proven players competing for the spots at third base or at shortstop, which is the most crucial defensive position in the infield.  As everyone knows, barring a trade, Chris Truby and Morgan Ensberg will battle for the hot corner.  Truby already has failed once in attempting to be a starter for the Astros, and my money is on Morgan Ensberg to win that competition.  An incredibly hard worker, Ensberg blossomed in Round Rock and continued his success in New Orleans, despite a season-interrupting injury.  Morgan is gregarious, intelligent and can talk the ears off a wooden Indian.  He also is a slick fielder, has gap power and will take a walk.  He will fight the manager to avoid a day off.  If Ensberg is successful in winning the third base job in spring training, he will be an instant fan favorite.  His defense will not be a problem, and Astros fans will wait to see how he produces at the plate.  I am rooting very hard for Ensberg.

For me, the most interesting position to watch will be the competition at shortstop.  Because I am defense-minded in putting a team together, I know what I would do.  The competitors are well known.  Julio Lugo, who epitomizes unrealized potential at the plate and in the field, will be the leader going into spring training, but I would make Adam Everett the starter from the beginning of spring training until he plays his way out of the lineup.  He is a defensive standout and will improve the pitching staff by his presence.  Whether Everett hits and/or gets on base enough to stay in the lineup is yet to be seen, but on “my” team, he would be the starting shortstop until he showed me that his lack of offense outweighed his terrific defense.

So, if I were in charge, and barring any future trades, “my” opening day lineup would look like this:

C       - Ausmus 
1B      - Bagwell 
2B      - Biggio 
SS      - Everett 
3B      - Ensberg 
LF      - Ward 
CF      - Hidalgo 
RF      - Berkman 
Utl. IF - Vizcaino 
Utl. OF - Hunter, Merced

The defensive liabilities of this lineup in the outfield are readily apparent.  Berkman does not have a right fielder’s arm. Hidalgo is a better right fielder than a center fielder, but Berkman cannot play center field well enough to move Hidalgo to right field permanently.  The outfield is best described as slow, slower and slowest.  The best position for both Berkman and Ward is left field.  Whoever plays center field does so by default, but Hunter should not be considered seriously as the answer in center field.  The infield defense on paper is better than the 2001 version, although Vinny Castilla’s defense was always good and often was amazing.  Two rookies will be on the left side of the infield, but Ensberg will be just as good as Castilla, and Everett and Lugo are not on the same planet as defensive shortstops.This starting lineup once again is nearly all right-handed hitters.  Of “my” starters, only Ward and Berkman hit from the left side, but Merced and switch-hitters Vizcaino and newly-acquired Gregg Zaun can provide a left-handed alternative in the outfield and at second, short, and catcher on occasion.  Where will the starters hit in the batting order?  As I created a batting order, the different spots had specific characteristics that I sought to satisfy with the personnel on hand:Leadoff – a guy who can get on base, must be willing to accept walks, must be willing to take pitches in hitters’ counts, speed an asset but not a necessity if he can get on base, a good baserunner is a plus
#2 – another on-base spot, should be a good bunter, must be willing to take pitches in steal situations, an ability to hit behind the runner is helpful because this is a hit and run spot
#3 – best hitter on the team, an RBI spot
Cleanup – best power hitter on the team, home runs and RBI expected
#5 – best RBI man on the team, must be able to “pick up” the cleanup hitter if he fails with men on base
#6 – another decent RBI spot, should be the best hitter left of the three remaining starters, having some pop is a plus
#7 – can be an RBI spot if the team has a high on base percentage but does not have to be, usually comes down to the better hitter between the last two remaining players, if this slot produces some runs, the team is doing well
#8 – usually the weakest hitter on the team, must be able to take walks or to get on base enough to keep the pitcher from leading off inningsSo, based on who “my” starters are, again barring a future trade, the batting order would look like this:

Biggio 
Everett 
Bagwell 
Ward 
Berkman 
Hidalgo 
Ensberg 
Ausmus

Biggio is not a “true” leadoff man but seems to be the best option.  Everett and Ausmus may be switched if Everett cannot handle MLB pitching well enough to hit high in the order.  Hunter should lead off or bat second when he plays, and Vizcaino is a natural for the two hole.  I do not believe that R-L-R “balance” in a batting order is essential, and I am happy with the above batting order, given the personnel currently on the team.  I would dearly love to add Carlos Beltran to this team, although that would mean trading Daryle Ward. Only in fantasy leagues would something that wonderful happen.  Right? The bench has a good start on being solid with Vizcaino, Merced, Zaun and Hunter.  Whether the mix will include Ginter or some yet-to-be-added left-handed hitting infielder will be something to watch closely.Anyone putting together a baseball team would drool at the pitching talent now available.  Oswalt, Miller, Reynolds, Hernandez and Mlicki are a very solid starting rotation; Redding, Brocail, Cruz, Linebrink, Dotel and Wagner form the nucleus of a strong bullpen, although another left-hander in the pen would be ideal.  I might trade Wagner and turn the closer job over to Dotel for the right deal.  I shall leave it to “Trader Todd” or to Michael Nash to say what the right deal is, but I sure would like to have Beltran in “my” lineup.  I would entertain the notion of signing Ron Villone for the situational lefty role.  A tantalizing alternative to Villone is Wilfredo Rodriguez, but that extremely talented young man must develop consistency and do it soon.  My number one priority for pitching this off-season, though, would be Pedro Astacio.  I am excited to hear that both player and club have interest in each other if his rehab goes well.  A healthy Astacio would anchor this pitching staff, and the starting rotation would be as solid a staff as there is in MLB.  Go get him, Gerry.In a perfect world (meaning budgets make no difference), Moises Alou would finish his career in Houston, as he wanted to do.  What a wonderful professional hitter he is.  Much maligned (unfairly, in my opinion), Alou was a proud and loyal member of the Houston Astros.  Although he noticeably tired at the end of the 1998 and 2001 seasons, he provided the club the ideal RBI producer for the five hole, and he delivered clutch hit after clutch hit.  One of my favorite memories of Alou is his pulling his hands into his body so that he could get to a fastball that would hit most batters in the chest and then driving that pitch out of the park to left or left center.  His at bats were clinics on professional hitting; Alou took the outside pitch to right, and he punished pitchers who dared to try to throw a fastball past him on or off the inside part of the plate.  He altered his approach to fit the circumstances of each at bat, and his situational hitting stood out in this day of all-or-nothing swings.

Fans attend University of Texas home baseball games at Disch-Falk Field in Austin just across the interstate highway adjacent to the school’s campus.  Long-time followers of UT baseball recognize the two names as legendary coaches on the Forty Acres.  William J. (“Uncle Billy”) Disch coached the Longhorns to 21 Southwest Conference championships from 1911-39, with a record of 465 wins and 115 losses as a college coach.  Bibb Falk, his successor, continued UT’s winning tradition by leading the school to 20 more SWC championships from 1940-67 and back-to-back national championships in 1949-50.  Falk accomplished much more in baseball than becoming a successful college coach, however, and even many loyal orangebloods do not know his impressive history in the game.  Not merely a championship coach and one of the best players of his era, Falk was one of the most unique personalities ever to appear on the sports landscape in the State of Texas.

Bibb Augustus Falk was born in Austin, Texas, on January 27, 1899, one of four brothers who loved baseball.  An outstanding schoolboy athlete, he graduated from Stephen F. Austin High School in 1916 but intended to go to work rather than college.  Fate then intervened in the person of Billy Disch.  Mr. Disch, as everyone referred to him, had seen Falk play in high school and offered him help in going to college if he would play baseball at UT.  Thus began an association between Disch and Falk and the University of Texas that will continue as long as the school exists.

Falk was a star in two sports as a collegian.  All-Southwest Conference as a tackle on the 1919 UT football team, Falk achieved even greater success as a baseball player.  He threw and batted from the left side, and he was undefeated as a pitcher from 1918-20 during his three varsity seasons.  His skill as an outfielder and his prowess as a hitter attracted attention from professional baseball scouts.  He batted over .400 in each of his varsity seasons at UT, and he signed with the Chicago White Sox in the summer of 1920. He declined the club’s offer to send him to the minor leagues where he could play regularly, choosing instead to be with the big club for the balance of the 1920 season. Despite the inexplicable loss in the 1919 World Series, most people considered the White Sox to be the strongest team in baseball.

Falk went directly from the University of Texas campus to the Chisox dugout, but he did not play until news of the Black Sox scandal became public in September of 1920.  He replaced Shoeless Joe Jackson in left field after Jackson was suspended and later banned for life, and Falk made the most of his unexpected opportunity by hitting .294 for the last few games of the 1920 season.  Beginning in 1921, Falk was a regular in the outfield for the White Sox.  Traded to Cleveland following the 1928 season, he was with the Indians through the 1931 season, his last as a major league player.  His career spanned twelve years, all in the American League, and during this time, he became one of the finest all-around players in the league.  His brother Chet also was in the American League from 1925-27, but his career consisted of three undistinguished seasons with the St. Louis Browns.

Bibb Falk’s most outstanding statistical year was 1926 as a member of the White Sox. With a batting average of  .345,  he had 195 hits, including 43 doubles, a .415 on base percentage,  and 108 runs batted in.  He drove in 99 runs in 1924 and again in 1925, hitting .352 and .301 those seasons, and his .352 batting average in 1924 was his career best.  In 1929, he drove in 93 runs for Cleveland and batted .312 in only 125 games.  His batting average was over .300 for eight of his twelve seasons in the major leagues, and he was in the .290s three other years. 

As his career wound down in 1930 and 1931, he became a part-time player, but he was the most productive pinch-hitter in the league. He had batting averages of .325 and .304 those final seasons.  After leaving the Indians following the 1931 season, Falk was player-manager for the Toledo Mud Hens of the American Association in 1932.  He returned to the American League as a coach for the Indians in 1933 and the Red Sox in 1934.  He began scouting for the Red Sox in 1935.

Playing from 1920-31, during what some call the Golden Age of major league baseball, Falk developed a reputation as one of the top hitters in the American League, although he had little home run power.  His best home run year was 1929 when he hit 13 for Cleveland, and his only other double digit total was 12 home runs for Chicago in 1922.  During his career, he was a teammate or an opponent of some of the greatest players of all time:  Ruth, Gehrig, Cobb, Speaker, Johnson, Collins, Heilman, Cronin, Grove, Cochrane, Sisler, Foxx, Gehringer, and Simmons, to name just a few.  Despite spending no time in the minor leagues in an era when few college players made the major leagues,  Bibb Falk did quite well for a college boy. 

For his career, Falk had 1,463 hits and batted .314, with a .372 on base percentage.  A contact hitter, he struck out just 279 times in his twelve years in the big leagues, and in 1925, he struck out only 25 times in 602 at bats. His .352 batting average in 1924 was third in the American League, and in 1926,  his .992 fielding percentage led all American League outfielders. He was an outstanding fielder,  with a .967 career fielding percentage, and in 1926, he made but three errors in 357 chances.  Falk was a complete ballplayer, and he excelled in competition with the legendary greats of the game. 

In 1935, Falk returned to Austin, where he made his off-season home, and he spent the next few years scouting for the Boston Red Sox. Fate once again intervened in the person of Billy Disch. Mr. Disch became ill during the 1940 season and asked Falk to do the on-field coaching of the Longhorns. Falk was tired of the vagabond life that scouting required, so he began his coaching career to help his college coach and mentor.  Over the next 27 years (he spent the 1943-45 seasons in the Air Force), Falk added his name to that of Billy Disch in the annals of University of Texas baseball.  His Texas teams won 478 games and lost 176 in all games, which included exhibition games against major and minor league teams; against other college teams, his teams won 453 games while losing only 152. 

Falk’s Longhorns were a fixture in the NCAA playoffs, which began in 1947.  Of his 16 teams that qualified for the playoffs, 10 reached the national tournament that is now called the College World Series.  Under his tutelage in 1949 and 1950, Texas became the first school to win consecutive national championships, his 1953 team was runner-up in the tournament, and his 1947, 1962 and 1963 teams finished third.  At the age of 68, after 25 seasons and 20 championships,  Falk retired following the 1967 season.

National and regional honors celebrated Falk’s achievements.  He was elected to the Longhorn Hall of Honor in 1962, the Helms Athletic Foundation College Hall of Fame in 1966, the American Baseball Coaches Association Hall of Fame in 1968, the Texas Baseball Hall of Fame in 1988, and the College Baseball Hall of Fame in 2007.  Only induction into the National Baseball Hall of Fame eluded him, but he told anyone who mentioned it that he did not deserve that honor.  In 1975, the University named its new baseball stadium Disch-Falk Field in honor of the two men who together represented 54 years of Texas Longhorn baseball.

Those who played for Coach Falk say unanimously that he was a big leaguer all the way. He often admonished his men, “You might not be big leaguers, but you can sure act like you are.”  A world class cusser, his most contemptuous epithet was “bush league,” and he would not tolerate anyone in a Texas uniform acting like a “busher.”  He treated his players like professional ballplayers, and he expected them to act like they were big leaguers on the field.

His workouts rarely lasted three hours and consisted mainly of batting and fielding practice.  Pitchers threw batting practice on a regular schedule every third day; on “off” days, pitchers played catch, threw in the bullpen, shagged flies, hit fungoes to position players, did their running and then went on their merry ways after spending a respectable time looking busy.  Position players hit and fielded fungoes for individual work during batting practice, and they took part in a full-team infield practice under the direction of Coach Falk whenever he thought the team needed organized full-team practice.  Falk was a master of the art of the fungo bat, and he often ran his pitchers, or others who “needed” exercise, by having them race back and forth across the outfield to catch flies that he hit just inches beyond their reach.

There were few intra-squad games, although there might be an occasional scrimmage against the freshman team.  In those bygone days,  freshmen were not eligible for the varsity, and baseball in the Southwest Conference was a spring-only activity, with no fall practice and a maximum of 24 games to a season.  Spring practice could not begin before mid-February.  Falk railed against these restrictions that he correctly believed created a competitive disadvantage for SWC teams in tournament play against other warm weather schools.  Texas and Texas A&M campaigned for relaxation of these restrictions, but the SWC’s small schools opposed them and voted against change.  Late in his tenure at Texas, Falk’s influence helped to get a few more spring practice days added and the scheduled expanded, but only to 30 games.

With no fall practice, SWC teams had just a couple of weeks in February to get ready for the coming season.  Falk used a professional baseball approach to spring training.  In the early spring, he drilled the team on pickoff plays, pitchers’ fielding practice, cutoff plays, and double steals, and then the team rarely worked on these situational fundamentals again.  Coach Falk expected his players to know fundamental baseball and to execute the plays properly when the specific situations arose.  After the season started, Falk’s practices stressed individual work on the skills of hitting and fielding and placed less emphasis on team drills or game situations.  As professional managers do, he insisted that his players learn and retain the lessons taught in spring training without constant drilling on game situations during the season.

Falk also treated his players like professional ballplayers on road trips.  As the bus rolled into town, he passed out meal money for the trip and announced what time the bus would leave the next day for the ballpark.  From that moment until the bus left for the game, the players were left to their own devices.  There were no team meetings, no team meals, and no bed checks.  Falk did not inquire about his players’ activities on the road, and he did not appear to care.  What he did care about was performance in games, however, and the players had better deliver when he called upon them to perform, whether or not they had enjoyed themselves the night before.  If they did not play well when called upon, it might be a long season on the bench. 

Because of the SWC’s strict limit on the numbers of games, Falk’s usual pitching staff consisted of two starters and one reliever and a lot of guys who wanted a chance to become one of the three.  Typically, a relief pitcher would get one opportunity to succeed.  If he did well, he won the third spot on the staff,  but if he did not do well, he went to the back of the line as the auditions for the relief pitcher role continued.  A pitcher who failed in his first audition might never pitch again in a meaningful situation the rest of the season.  Falk coached the pitchers by necessity-he had no assistant coach other than an occasional graduate student-but his forte was as a hitting instructor.

During batting practice, Falk took up residence behind the batting cage and offered up a seemingly endless stream of criticisms and tips to the hitter and to anyone else close enough to hear his monologue.  Nothing escaped his eye or his attention, and he made comments or suggestions after every pitch.  Young players often tend to disregard constant advice from a coach, but if his pupils considered that this coach had been a .314 career hitter in the major leagues during the time of Ruth, Gehrig, Cobb and Speaker, perhaps his words took on extra significance.  Certainly they should have.

Falk advocated hitting the ball where it was pitched and using the entire field.  Not surprisingly, that is the way he hit, and he had no use for the “big donkey” who had an all-or-nothing swing for the long ball and who struck out often.  He would be extremely frustrated with today’s hitters.  He knew hitting and hitters as well as anyone then or now, and he had no patience with the player who did not listen or who did not work hard to correct his mistakes.

Perhaps the most amazing aspect of Bibb Falk, the hitting coach, was his ability to demonstrate what he was telling his charges to do.  One day each spring he would grab a bat, get in the batting cage against one of the team’s pitchers,  and show the young whippersnappers how it was done.  He took a turn in the cage each season until he retired, and it was an astonishing demonstration to watch.  Falk would warm up by spraying line drives to all fields and then would begin to call his shots.  He would say “left field line,” “right center field,” “right field,” “hole between first and second,” “hit and run, shortstop covering,” and the like, and he would hit the ball to the place he said he would hit it.  Then, he would hit the ball over the right field fence and get out of the cage.  That he was ever able to have this kind of bat control would be noteworthy, but he accomplished this remarkable exhibition well into his 60s against 18-21 year old pitchers who were not at all interested in making an old man look good. 

In 1966, when Coach Falk was 67 years old, he entered the cage to hit against Gary Moore, who that year received All-Southwest Conference honors for the second consecutive year.  Moore also started at safety for the football Longhorns and was a left-handed pitcher-outfielder.  He had a live fastball and a great overhand curve.  Moore got a cup of coffee with the Dodgers as an outfielder, and he was the best pitcher in the Southwest Conference.  Cocky and devil-may-care in his demeanor, Moore was in no mood that day to allow Bibb Falk to hit him at will.

After a few desultory batting practice speed pitches, Moore began to throw to Falk as though the College World Series title were at stake.  He mixed fast balls and curves without telling the Coach what was coming, and he went for the strikeout on every pitch.  Falk was unfazed by Moore’s efforts.  He continued to make solid contact, and, at the same time, he taunted Moore for his inability to get the ball past him.  Coach Falk obviously was enjoying the competition with a stud pitcher who was more than 45 years younger, and using the salty vocabulary that was his trademark, he told Moore who the better man was after each hard hit ball. 

Finally, Gary Moore had enough of Falk’s taunting.  He threw a riding fastball up and in and knocked the Coach down.  Falk went down hard on his back, his bat and cap went flying, and his feet went up in the air.  Getting slowly to his feet, Falk did not say a word.  He brushed himself off, replaced his cap, grabbed his bat, got back in the box, and motioned for Moore to throw the next pitch.  Moore did, and Falk rifled a blistering line drive between the pitcher’s legs into center field, very nearly performing a vasectomy by horsehide.  On that note, the hitting exhibition for 1966 ended, and a chastened Gary Moore was left to contemplate what might have been had Falk’s aim been just a bit off.

Former players described Falk as “intense,” “demanding,” “tough,” “intimidating,” “ornery,” and “cantankerous,” but to a man they respected him and valued greatly the experience of playing for him.  His players referred to him as “The Old Man,” but never to his face.  Tough and unyielding, Falk called every player “Lefty” or “Mullet,” and he never expressed any satisfaction with his players’ efforts or abilities.  Praise from him did not happen, and criticism was the daily norm.  Maybe his never-satisfied attitude was his motivational style because his players tried their hardest to prove him wrong and to make him see that they were better than he thought they were.  His players gave extra effort just to show The Old Man that they could play, no matter what he said or thought. Maybe this is one reason why they won so often.

Falk’s crustiness, his sharp tongue, and his acerbic, sarcastic wit were renowned.  His nickname as a player was “Jockey,” for bench jockey, and he demonstrated to many of his players that the name was perfect for him.  Stories concerning the Falk wit are legion and, unlike many baseball stories, are true.  A few follow.

– To the hitter who hit a grand slam in a regional tournament in Denver:
“That ball sure carries in this light air.”

– To his All-American slugger who had just hit a game-winning home run to the opposite field:
“Are you ever going to learn to pull that pitch?”

– To the soft-tossing pitcher who was getting hit hard and asked Falk if he should start brushing the hitters back:
“Hell, they’d just catch it and throw it back to you.”

– To a player criticizing draft laws that took college students by saying that the country’s most intelligent men should be last on the draft list:
“I don’t see that makes any difference.  You’d be the first to go anyway.”

– To the infielder who missed a pickoff sign and offered an “I thought” excuse:
“Every time you think, they score three runs.”

– To the hitter who had barely missed getting a hit on a line drive that was inches foul:
“That’s all right-as bad as you are, you may never get another hit anyhow.”

– To the relief pitcher who escaped a bases loaded, no out situation Falk put him in by striking out the side, the last strikeout on a high, hanging breaking ball that the hitter somehow missed:
“How long do you expect to get away with that shit?”

– To the relief pitcher who was making an emergency start in the season’s biggest game, which also was Falk’s final home game:
“Go as hard as you can for as long as you can, but don’t embarrass anybody out there.”

– To a starting outfielder who had come to Falk’s office to apologize for his poor play on the field and his even worse academic performance:
“That’s the life of a .200 hitter.”

– To a pitcher who took an early shower after being removed during the opponent’s ninth inning rally:
“You could have stayed out there long enough to see how we got out of the mess you got us into.”

– To a sportswriter who asked for an evaluation of how a player’s development was progressing:
“You can’t make chicken salad out of chicken shit.”

– To a sportswriter who asked before a crucial series if he had made reservations in Omaha for the NCAA tournament:
“I won’t need anything but a single room for myself because there is no way these mullets and goons can make it up there.” (They did, though, and finished runner-up in the NCAA tournament. The team gave Falk a gift inscribed “To the Big Leaguer from the Mullets and Goons.”)

– To successor Cliff Gustafson who was attempting to console him after a heartbreaking ninth inning loss in his last game deprived him of a final trip to the College World Series:
“Hell, I didn’t want to take those mullets to Omaha anyway.”

Crusty and tough on the outside, Falk had the proverbial heart of gold, but he allowed few to see that side of him.  He was old-school and grew up during an era in which athletes were expected and required to be tough and hard-nosed. Falk presented the gruff, sarcastic, and often profane Old Man to the world, but anyone who spent much time with him soon learned that there was a softer side.  Although he never married, he strongly believed in the virtues of family, and he took care of his parents and his sister until their deaths.  He counseled his players on the value and necessity of education, and he reminded them that baseball is only temporary.  He was concerned about his players’ academic performance for reasons other than their eligibility.

Falk would talk baseball or life for hours with anyone who took the time to visit with him in his office in old Gregory Gym.  His tutorials on hitting were classics, and he was never without a bat close by so that he could demonstrate hitting techniques for his listener.  Often the listener would find the bat placed in his hands so that the Coach could assess what his pupil had learned, illustrate a point, or determine what needed to be corrected.  He never forgot his former players’ names, and he had an uncanny ability to remember personal characteristics of each.  His family and close friends described him as kind and sweet, but he did not let the world see that side of him. 

Perhaps ahead of his time as a student of the science of baseball, Falk charted pitches and had an encyclopedic memory for the individual characteristics and tendencies of hitters.  He was an expert on the rule book and a superb strategist during games.  Most important, he was willing to share his immense knowledge of the game with anyone who would sit next to him and listen, which could be a painful experience.  He had the habit of punctuating each point by a punch with his elbow to the ribs of his listener, and he had a lot to say on each pitch.  Sitting next to him at a game was fascinating and instructive, but the listener needed rib pads to survive.

After his retirement, Coach Falk continued his daily routine of a swim in chilly Barton Springs and a trip or call to a stockbroker’s office to keep track of his many successful investments.  He was a regular for coffee and conversation at Rooster Andrews’ sporting goods store.  Afternoons invariably found him at the ballpark, and he never missed UT home games.  He was proud of Cliff Gustafson, his successor, an uncommonly successful high school coach who had been a reserve infielder at UT in the ’50s.  Falk acted as friend and mentor for Gustafson as Disch had for him.

Coach Gustafson’s methods, style and practice routines were as different from Coach Falk’s as night is from day, and this transition was not easy for those of Falk’s players who were still on the team during Gustafson’s initial years.  Practices under Coach Gus often lasted from immediately after lunch to sundown, and each daily three-hour drill on fundamentals and game situations was followed by an equally long intra-squad game.  On road trips, the team ate together, had meetings, dressed in coats and ties, and was subject to bed checks.  Predictably, the players who had been admonished by Falk to act like “big leaguers” chafed at these restrictions, which they characterized as “high school.”

It is unlikely that any of the players who were struggling with Gustafson’s regimentation approached Falk with their grievances because he would not have been sympathetic, and he remained the program’s and Gustafson’s staunchest supporter during his retirement years.  Attrition of Falk’s players, through graduation or decisions to pursue interests other than baseball, and the influx of Gustafson’s recruits soon eliminated the issue of the contrast between the two coaches’ methods.  Winning helped, too, and Cliff Gustafson enhanced the championship tradition passed to him from Disch and Falk by winning more games than any other college baseball coach in NCAA Division I history. 

Coach Falk retained his remarkable vitality until the very end of his life.  Daily exercise and an indomitable spirit kept at bay the normal ravages of nearly a century of living.  Walking with a cane was his only concession to the years rolling by, and retirement and advancing age did not dull his wit or soften his tongue.  While they were watching the Texas Rangers work out for an exhibition game in Austin, Gustafson remarked to Falk how different the modern game was from the game he played in the ’20s and ’30s because of changes such as night baseball, harder travel, and relief pitchers who throw 100 mph.  Falk agreed that the game had changed some, so Gustafson asked him what he thought he would hit in the modern major leagues.  When Falk said “maybe .275 or .280,” Gustafson expressed surprise that he thought he would be affected that much.  Falk explained, “Hell, I’m 75 years old.” 

A short time before his brief final illness,  Falk encountered a former relief pitcher at a UT game against the University of Houston.  The Coach greeted him with “Lefty, how’s your curve ball?”  The former player said that he was pitching against 10-year-olds on a Little League team he coached and that he was getting them out pretty consistently.  Falk replied, “Well, you’re finally in the right league.” The two shook hands before going their separate ways, and the former player smiled at the pleasant reminder that although some things, or people, may change,  Bibb Falk never would.

Bibb Augustus Falk died at 90 years of age on June 8, 1989, in Austin, Texas, the last surviving member of the 1920 Chicago White Sox.  His memory and his influence on the University of Texas and on the men who played for him will live forever.  The Game may never see the likes of him again.

The Double Cutoff:  balls hit, over, through or by an outfielder
A ball hit well in the gap, down the line, or through or over an outfielder likely will go to the wall.  What happens next will determine if, or how many, baserunners will score and how many bases the hitter will advance beyond first base.  This situation requires the outfielder to get the ball quickly to an infielder and requires the infielder to make an accurate relay throw to the correct base.  Coordination between outfielders and infielders and correct positioning by the infielders are essential because this throw will not go to a base.
A ball hit to the wall tells the outfielder to disregard the runners and to throw the ball directly to the cutoff man, an infielder who has run into the outfield to take the throw.  The second baseman and shortstop will be double cutoff men on all balls hit over, through or by an outfielder; one will be in front and will run toward the outfielder to take the throw, and the other will be in line with the throw but will be about ten feet behind the front cutoff man.  The front cutoff man should try to catch the ball in a position to make a relay throw with no wasted motion.  The back cutoff man has two roles:  he must watch the progress of the runners so that he can tell the front cutoff man where to throw the ball, and he must catch the ball and make the relay throw himself if the front cutoff man does not catch the outfielder’s throw.
The second baseman is the front cutoff man on all balls hit to the wall down the right field line and into right center field.  The shortstop is the front cutoff man on all balls hit to the wall down the left field line, into left center field and to straightaway center.  On the double cutoff, the first baseman watches the hitter touch first and then trails him to second base for a throw if the hitter takes a wide turn around second base.  After the hitter rounds second base and heads for third, the first baseman will move back into the infield to be a cutoff man for the relay throw.
During the double cutoff, the third baseman must wait at the bag for a throw.  He has no cutoff responsibilities on a ball hit over, through or by an outfielder.  In various situations, including the double cutoff, the pitcher must be ready to back up either home or third base, depending on where the throw goes.  To accomplish this task, the pitcher has to sprint to a position in foul territory halfway between third and home.  As the outfielder throws, the pitcher will go to the base to which the throw is made to back up for an errant throw.  Double cutoff rules apply only if the ball goes over, through or by an outfielder.

General Cutoff Rules
On all throws from an outfielder to the bases, the infielders and the pitcher have specific places to be.  As the ball goes into the outfield with runners on base, the infielders should begin to move quickly to their assigned places to prepare to cut off the throw if necessary.  Outfielders have to know who the cutoff man will be at each base, and they should attempt to throw the ball through the head of the cutoff man to the base, not throw the ball to him.  A one hop throw to the base is perfect, and the head-high throw can be cut off easily.  Each cutoff man should raise his arms in the “touchdown” signal to give the throwing outfielder a clear target.  The exact position of the cutoff man is determined by the depth and position of the outfielder and the strength of his throwing arm.
The catcher or the infielder who is lining up the cutoff man must watch the runners, judge the accuracy and the velocity of the throw and tell the cutoff man what to do.  The cutoff man’s options are to let the ball go through, to cut off the throw and throw it to a base or to cut off the throw and hold the ball.  The player making the call for the cutoff man cannot be timid or soft-spoken with this communication, and he must decide and speak soon enough for the cutoff man to react to the throw.  If the outfielder’s throw toward a base is too high to be cut off, the cutoff man should not jump for the ball but rather should fake a catch and throw to second.  This fake catch and throw may keep the hitter from moving up to second on the high throw.
The pitcher should never stand at the mound watching the play, and he should never cut off a throw.  The pitcher is not a cutoff man on any throw from the outfield, and he is not ever supposed to be a spectator.  The pitcher will be backing up at home or third on every throw to those bases, and with more than one runner on base, he has to be ready to back up at either base when the ball goes into the outfield.  He must be both active and alert.
The following situations illustrate the infielders’ and the pitcher’s assignments on throws from the outfield with runners on base.  Perhaps the various situations that are possible will demonstrate the alertness, judgment and awareness that are required for proper execution of the cutoff.  More than one runner on base, of course, creates more than one possible place for an outfielder to throw the ball, which increases the need for good decisions and intelligent execution of the play.

Hit or fly to LF, runner trying to score
The third baseman is the cutoff man for the throw from the left fielder to home plate.  He will move ten to fifteen feet down the baseline for his cutoff position, and the catcher will line him up with the left fielder’s position for the throw.  As soon as the shortstop is sure that the left fielder will catch the ball, he must sprint to cover third base.  The second baseman will cover second base, and the first baseman will stay at first base to keep the hitter from rounding the bag too far.  The pitcher backs up home.  The positioning will remain the same if there also is a possible throw to third, but the pitcher will back up third if the throw goes there.

Hit or fly to CF, runner trying to score
The first baseman is the cutoff man on throws from the center fielder to the plate.  As the ball is hit into the outfield, he must move immediately to a position on the second base side of the mound.  He cannot be late getting into position.  The catcher lines up the first baseman for the throw to home.  Most teams have the third baseman remain at third on all throws from the center fielder, but the Astros sometimes use the third baseman as the cutoff man on the throw from center if there is no possibility of a throw to third.
Whether the second baseman or shortstop covers second base is determined by where the ball is hit and whether there is a possible throw to third.  If there is a possible throw to third, the shortstop will be the cutoff man for that throw, and the second baseman will cover second on a ball hit to any part of center field.  The third baseman will line up the shortstop for a throw to third.  If there is no possible throw to third, the shortstop will cover second base on a ball hit to right center field and the second baseman will cover second on the ball hit to left center field.  The pitcher backs up the catcher on the throw to the plate and backs up the third baseman if the throw goes there.

Hit or fly to RF, runner trying to score
The first baseman is the cutoff man for the throw home, and he will set up ten to fifteen feet down the baseline to be in position to cut off the throw.  The catcher lines the first baseman up for the throw from right field.  If there also is a possible throw to third on the play, the shortstop will be the cutoff man for that throw and the second baseman will cover second.  The third baseman will line up the shortstop for a throw to third.  If there is no possible throw to third, the shortstop will cover second base and the second baseman will cover first base.  The third baseman will remain at the third base.  The pitcher will back up home or third, depending on where the throw goes.

Hit or fly to LF, runner moving from first to third
A cutoff man usually is not necessary on this short throw.  The third baseman will cover third base, the second baseman will cover second, and the first baseman will cover first.  The shortstop is available for a cutoff on a fly ball hit deep down the left field line, but in most cases he should stay out of the way.  The pitcher backs up third base.

Hit or fly to CF, runner moving from first to third
The shortstop is the cutoff man for the throw to third and will position himself in the infield dirt between second and third.  The third baseman lines up the shortstop on the center fielder’s position for the throw.  The second baseman will cover second base, and the first baseman will cover first.  The pitcher must back up third base.

Hit or fly to RF, runner moving from first to third
The shortstop will be the cutoff man for this throw.  His position will be either on the infield dirt or the grass between second and third.  The third baseman will line up the shortstop for the throw.  The second baseman will cover second base, and the first baseman will cover first.  The pitcher must back up third base.

Communication and Judgment
On all balls hit to the outfield, each outfielder must know the score and the situation, be aware of the speed of the runners, and be able to judge when a throw to home is a wasted throw that will allow other runners to take an extra base.  Often the best play is to concede the run and to prevent the trailing runner from advancing to third or to prevent the hitter from advancing to scoring position at second.  Communication between the outfielders during the play can help to prevent a wasted throw and can keep the hitter out of scoring position.  The cutoff throw that is head-high as it reaches the cutoff man also will deter runners from taking an extra base.
Hitting the cutoff man with an accurate throw is an essential part of winning baseball.  A strong, accurate throw that will carry through the cutoff man if not intercepted is necessary, and equally important is for each infielder to know his assignment and to be in the right place for the variety of situations that runners on base create on a ball hit to the outfield.  At your next game, look away from the ball occasionally and watch the infielders move into position for cutoff plays.  This exercise in self-discipline likely will increase your appreciation of the complexity of this game.

Think two bases
A team that wants to put pressure on opponents with its baserunning should adopt a “two base” approach.  A player using this approach will think “double” as he hits the ball.  He will come out of the box as quickly as possible on contact, sprint all the way to first base, and round the bag hard headed for second base.  This approach will enable the runner to take second on a slight bobble by an outfielder.  If the outfielder plays the hit cleanly, the hitter must stop quickly and hustle back to first.  Most important is running as hard as possible out of the box all the way around first to the point where the go or stop decision must be made; a hitter who merely strides or jogs into first will not be able to take the extra base on a slight misplay by an outfielder.
By thinking “two bases” on every play, the baserunner will believe he can go from first to third on every single, and he will believe he can score from second on any single to the outfield.  He cannot always do so, of course, but this two base approach will enable the third base coach to take a calculated risk with an outfielder’s arm at the appropriate time.  The runner must sprint from the base he is leaving to the next base, and he must come around that base hard as he gets the go or stop sign from the coach.  Equally important is no wasted steps.  The runner should not make wide turns, and to accomplish this, he should hit the inside corner of the base with his left foot and try to make as tight a turn as possible, with a crossover step with his right leg, as he rounds the bag.  If he does not sprint from the moment of contact until the coach stops him and does not make crisp, tight turns on his way to the next base, the result often will be station-to-station baseball:  runners moving up only one base at a time.  By not taking the extra base on a hit, the baserunner may require his teammates to get another hit to score the run.  Often this is difficult to accomplish against strong pitching.

Steal a base
Today’s teams do not emphasize the stolen base as a major part of their offensive attack.  Rickey Henderson is the last of the great base stealers of this era, and his legs are now too old and too tired for him to be a consistent threat to run.  A team does not have to have a Henderson or a Lou Brock or a Maury Wills to use the stolen base to augment its attack, however.  A steal is still the best way to advance a runner into scoring position without sacrificing an out, and intelligent baserunning can go a long way toward making up for a lack of sprinter’s speed on the basepaths.  Jeff Bagwell is the best example of this.  Never fast, he long has been among the most effective baserunners in the league.  He always seems to get a good jump, and his stolen bases are never unimportant or meaningless in the game’s context.  In addition, he is excellent at taking the extra base on hits to the outfield.  He is a textbook effective baserunner and is the model for an intelligent baserunning approach.

The lead
Most important is the lead.  Whether he is running or not, the baserunner should endeavor to take an aggressive, but not reckless, lead on every pitch.  His lead should be at the very edge of the margin between safe and out.  If he barely makes it back to the bag with a dive, the lead is perfect.  An obvious advantage of the maximum lead on each pitch is that it lessens the distance the runner must go to reach the next base safely.  In a game replete with situations in which split seconds are significant, an extra 1-2 feet of lead may be the sole difference in being safe.  Perhaps a less obvious benefit is that the baserunner does nothing different when he intends to steal if he takes the maximum safe lead on every pitch.  He is ready to run at any time without getting extra attention from the pitcher and catcher; this cuts down the risk of a pickoff or a pitchout merely because the defense has noticed a larger than normal lead.

The jump
Next in importance is a good jump on the pitcher’s delivery to the hitter.  Getting a quick break toward the next base is partly a matter of instinct and partly a matter of intense concentration and focus on the pitcher’s movements.  After checking the coach for a sign, the baserunner must watch the pitcher to the exclusion of everything else that is happening in the game.  He should be no more than two steps off the base while the pitcher is looking for the catcher’s sign, and then the runner should move into his lead as the pitcher stretches.  At all times, the runner must focus intently on the pitcher to determine whether he will throw to the plate or to the base.
For a runner at first base, the task is more difficult than if he were at second.  An old saying in baseball is that “it is much easier to steal third than second.”  The reasoning behind this axiom should be obvious:  the runner can get a larger lead off of second and the defenders are as far or farther from the base than he is.  At first base, the defender in most instances is standing at the bag to hold the runner as close to the base as possible.  At second base, the runner is in no greater danger if a lefthander is pitching, all pitchers must look in the opposite direction of the runner to begin a pitch, and a pickoff throw must combine stepping off the rubber and a 180? revolution of the pitcher’s body.  The danger of a successful pickoff throw is greater at first base so the runner there must concentrate more closely on the pitcher’s movements, especially when he intends to steal.

Help available
Against a righthanded pitcher, the task is relatively simple.  The righthanded pitcher cannot throw to first without balking unless he steps off the pitching rubber.  Thus, the most reliable part of his body to watch is his back foot.  If the pitcher raises his back heel as he starts out of the set position into his throwing motion, the runner should get back, aided (one hopes) by the first base coach’s shout of “BACK!”  The first base coach must watch the pitcher as intently as the baserunner must.  Another reliable indicator is the front shoulder of the righthanded pitcher.  If his shoulder closes as the pitcher starts out of the set position, he is making a pitch; if it opens up toward first as he starts out of the set position, he is committed to a pickoff throw.  Whichever key the runner uses to determine the pitcher’s intent, his focus must be narrow and intense so that he can start his break for second at the instant the righthanded pitcher begins his movement toward home plate.

Help needed
The task against a lefthanded pitcher is far more difficult.  Obviously, the lefthander is facing the baserunner at first base, rather than having his back to him, and there is a certain amount of intimidation he can accomplish merely by staring at the runner.  More important, the lefthanded pitcher does not show the runner where he is throwing the ball merely by starting into the throwing motion out of his set position, as does the righthanded pitcher.  If the lefthanded pitcher lifts his front knee straight up as he begins to throw, he can throw either to home or to first.  Only if his front foot breaks the plane of the pitching rubber and crosses it toward the outfield side is he committed to throwing a pitch.  If he lifts his knee straight up, he can throw to first at the last possible instant, with the only restriction being that his front foot must land on an imaginary line from the pitching rubber that is no less than 45?.  Umpires rarely enforce this balk rule, and for most good lefthanded pitchers, their A+ pickoff move is a “balk move.”
There is no reliable way to coach the runner at first against a good pickoff move by a lefthanded pitcher.  Stealing a base against the good move of a lefthander is a gamble every time.  The alert baserunner will watch the pitcher closely throughout the game to determine if he does anything differently on a throw to first.  Many lefthanded pitchers, in an effort to maximize their deception, will look toward first when they intend to throw home and will look toward home when they intend to throw to first, and thus they become predictable.  Some may make the really good, straight-up knee motion only when they will throw to first.  Others do not have a good move at all when throwing to first.  Only keen observation will discover a pitcher’s inadvertent indications of his intent.

Running on first movement
Finding such a tip will help the runner, of course, but stealing against the good lefthander is guesswork at best and risky at worst.  “Running on first movement” is a tactic that many managers and coaches use to eliminate the guesswork and the indecisiveness that inevitably results from not knowing what the lefthanded pitcher is about to do.  This tactic is self-explanatory:  the runner starts for second on the first movement of the front foot and knee out of the set position.  This is a gamble play and seeks to take advantage of most pitchers’ habit of deciding where they will throw the ball before they start out of the set position.  A lefthanded pitcher who can lift his front knee straight up, watch the runner, and then adjust into throwing to first if the runner breaks on first movement is death to the running game and will cause the coach to call off the “run on first movement” tactic.  The author speaks from painful personal experience on this point.

No wasted steps
There should be no wasted steps in the break toward the next base.  The first step should be a crossover step with the back foot rather than a half-step with the front foot.  On a steal, the runner should not look into the plate at the pitch.  He should put his head down and run as hard as he can on a straight line to the bag.  On a hit and run, the runner should look in to the plate to see what the hitter has done.  If the ball has been hit in the air, the runner must be ready to scramble back as quickly as possible to the base he left.
The runner must remember as he breaks for second on a steal attempt that he can and must abort the play if he slips or if he does not get a good jump on the pitcher.  To continue after a bad jump is an almost certain out, and the smart baserunner will stop his break after a bad jump and live to steal on another pitch.  He should continue after a bad jump on a hit and run because the purpose of that play is to put the runner in motion to make infielders move.  This tactic is for the hitter, not to steal a base.

The coaches
The first base coach is mainly a cheerleader, but he does have a couple of duties that aid the running game.  His telling the hitter to run on a ball hit in the gap is mostly ceremonial; the hitter should be thinking “double” on any ball he hits and should make the decision to advance to second largely on his observation of the fielders and the ball as he rounds first.  Taking second base will be automatic on a ball in the gap, and the most important coach on the extra base hit is the third base coach.  Important duties for the first base coach include helping his runner get back safely on pickoff throws, watching the first baseman playing behind the runner so that he does not sneak behind the runner at first, and, occasionally, stealing signs and relaying a signal to the hitter telling him what the next pitch will be.
In contrast to the relatively minor duties of the first base coach, the third base coach is an integral part of a good baserunning team.  He makes critical decisions whether to stop or send runners at second and at third, which decisions consist of his judgment aided by what he has learned watching the opponents play.  The third base coach should watch the opponent’s infield practice carefully to determine, as best he can, the strength and accuracy of outfielders’ throws to the various bases and of infielders’ cutoff relays.  This knowledge will assist him greatly when he must decide in an instant whether to send or to stop the runner who is seeking to move from first to third or attempting to score.

Use the coach
A baserunner must learn to use his third base coach and to ignore the ball in play as much as possible.  When going from first to third, the runner should look at the coach before he reaches second to see if he is telling him to go.  If so, after rounding the bag at full speed, he should again look to the coach for the go or stop sign.  Similarly, a runner at second must round third at full speed and look for the stop or go sign after coming around the base.  The third base coach should set up 15-20 feet or farther down the third base line toward home and should wait until the last moment to make the decision to hold the runner at third.  By bringing the runner around the bag at top speed, the coach enables the runner to score with no hesitation if the throw is late, weak or offline.  Winning teams practice baserunners’ rounding second and third at full speed while watching the coach, and they practice the sudden stop and the all out dash for the next base that the third base coach’s decisions require.

The decision to run
A manager, or head coach in high school and college baseball, must give the signs to get the running game in motion or they may give certain players the freedom to run on their own within whatever parameters the manager or coach thinks are prudent. Whether to allow a runner to attempt to steal a base is one of the most difficult decisions a manager has to make.  Many factors go into this decision:  the pitcher’s move to first, the pitcher’s ability to hold the runner close to the base, the catcher’s release and throwing ability, the score and situation of the game, the baserunner’s speed and ability to get a jump on the pitcher, the ability of the current hitter, the ability of the hitters who follow him, the count, and the types of pitches the current pitcher uses.
There is a constant guessing game going on between the manager and the opposing catcher. In a running situation, the manager wants to send the runner on a curve or some other off-speed pitch, and the catcher wants a fastball so that he will have more time in which to throw.  Most managers will watch the count and the pitcher’s tendencies closely to attempt to send the runner when a curve is likely.  A manager agonizes over this decision, especially when the run the baserunner represents is important, and he will curse the day he was born if a caught stealing eliminates a crucial run.  A great throwing catcher, like Brad Ausmus or Ivan Rodriguez, can take advantage of a manager’s insecurity about caught stealings and can virtually shut down a running game with the mere threat of throwing the runner out. A weak throwing catcher, such as Mitch Meluskey, will encourage an opposing manager to attempt an all-out running game.
Although the decision whether to give the steal sign is perhaps the most difficult for a manager, the decision whether to try to advance a runner from first to third or whether to try to score a runner is equally complex for the third base coach, and also is based on a number of variable factors.  A third base coach must consider the score of the game and the situation, the importance of the run, the arm of the outfielder, the arm of any potential cutoff man, the quickness and accuracy of the relay throw on an extra base hit, the speed of the runner, the runner’s position on the basepath when the outfielder or relay man is ready to throw, the ability of the next hitter, and the strength of the opposing pitcher and likely bullpen replacement.
The strength of the opponents’ pitching is especially important in high school and college baseball where the best pitchers often dominate the hitters.  A third base coach in that situation cannot count on consecutive hits to score a run, and he may be willing to take a chance by sending the runner home on the first hit his team gets with a runner in scoring position.  Aggressive, but not reckless, coaching and baserunning pays off in scoring extra runs over the course of a long season.  Station-to-station baseball is safer but will require at least one additional hit, or perhaps the 3-run homer, to score the runner who only advances a single base on a hit.
The manager or coach (and the fans) of a team that puts pressure on opponents with the running game must be prepared to accept that runners will be thrown out occasionally or will be picked off.  A team that uses the running game intelligently can be successful a high percentage of the time, and this ability to score runs with a minimum number of hits will augment the offense of a good hitting team rather than detract from it.  

Why don’t the Astros run?
The current emphasis on the home run has resulted in less emphasis on the running game throughout MLB, but that should not be an inevitable result.  The two styles of play can coexist.  The 2000 and 2001 Astros seem to be teams that have taken the either-or approach and that have chosen to swing away to try to put a number of hits together to score.  Stolen base attempts are rare, and the Astros’ manager does not often put runners in motion.  Apparently, Astros’ management, most likely Larry Dierker, has made a conscious decision to abandon the club’s traditional running game in favor of waiting on the home run to generate a big inning.  Whether this is a deliberate change of tactics or merely a reaction to changing personnel, there can be no doubt that the Astros no longer are a running team.
Many pundits blame the demise of the Astros’ running game on Enron Field. Perhaps a park that is more friendly to hitters may make a manager less likely to use his base stealers, but the park does not have to cause that result.  All hitters, even bulked-up sluggers, go into slumps, and a running game can enable a team that is not hitting to continue to score runs.  To score while in a slump requires attention to situational hitting, but, unfortunately, overdependence on slugging many times not only de-emphasizes the running game but also results in poor situational hitting.  The Astros seem to be a prime example of a team that no longer values situational hitting.  Maybe Larry Dierker has been seduced by his power-laden lineup or maybe he long has been a closet admirer of the Earl Weaver “wait for a 3-run home run” philosophy.  Either way, his lineup with its home run potential is the more likely explanation for the demise of the Astros’ running game than is the home ballpark.
Another possible explanation for the Astros’ failure to run is the changed personnel on the 2001 team. Although many of the names are the same, their circumstances and physical conditions are not.  All are older, of course, and Biggio, Alou and Bagwell have entered the stage of their baseball lives when losing a step is not uncommon.  Moreover, Alou, Hidalgo and Biggio have had serious leg injuries in recent years.  Any manager would be reluctant to have valuable players risk further injury by using them to implement a running game, and the injuries and subsequent rehabilitation also may have cost these players a step.  No doubt this risk of recurring injury is a significant factor in Dierker’s day-to-day decisions whether to have his key players run.
Finally, the team has not added players who appear to have excellent baserunning skills although most of the principles of smart baserunning can be taught and practiced.  Of the new players, only Barker and Lugo have real speed, and both have shown no better than average baserunning instincts.  Ward should never be used to run, unless he is part of a hit and run, and the manager has not shown any inclination to allow Berkman to run much either.  Berkman appears to have the skills to be a part of a running game, if given the opportunity.  Ausmus also could be a strong factor in a running game, but the manager must change his current philosophy first.
No less of an expert than the TalkZone’s own Arky Vaughan believes that the Astros’ current cautious approach to baserunning not only is attributable to the lineup of sluggers but also is the wisest tactical decision the team could make.  The lack of success of the Astros following the team’s decision to rely on hitting exclusively, if there was a conscious decision, seems to indicate otherwise.  Quite possibly, more consistent success will result if the Astros modify their approach to include:  putting runners in motion, allowing the base stealers the freedom to run or picking advantageous times to give a steal sign, emphasizing baserunning once again as an important part of the offense, stressing and teaching the fundamentals of baserunning, and placing a strong emphasis on situational hitting.
The power always will be present in the 2001 Astros’ lineup, but Dierker simply cannot count on, nor can he control, the hitters’ ability to hit the ball out of the park every day.  He can control the running game, and judicious use of the steal, the hit and run and the run and hit can maximize a team’s offense, even when it is in a slump.  Unfortunately, Larry Dierker merely gave a blanket green light when the team was running, and he appears neither inclined nor able to make the quick decisions required daily for an aggressive baserunning team.  
Because of the slugging lineup in 2001, real or perceived problems with the current personnel, and Dierker’s established preference for “let ’em play” baseball, Astros’ fans are unlikely to see a return to the days when the team played exciting baseball putting constant pressure on its opponents.  Nothing about Dierker has changed except that his green light is now red, and “let ’em play” means swing away and hope for three hits in a row or a home run.  This shift in emphasis is the fans’ loss and has not resulted in continued success for the team.  A return to intelligent baserunning as an offensive weapon is worth a try but is unlikely to occur during 2001.