CHAPTER 3
Spring Traning
The gap between accepting the job and spring training was a mere 3 days. Always thinking ahead, Mr. Djernes wanted to make sure that I had all the time I needed to prepare. I wasn't worried - the level of training that the J's players did on their own in the off season was the stuff of legend. I didn't even bother calling anyone on the team, as I assumed that this was a team that would prefer a "hands-off" approach, a team of professionals. In retrospect, this was probably the biggest mistake of my coaching career and admittedly it was the first of many I would make while managing the J's.
From the start, Spring Training was a nightmare. Every manager, wants to make a good impression the first time he speaks to his new team. I had prepared what I felt was a great pep talk to make that impression. There was only one problem: although practice was scheduled to begin at 10 AM, the only player who had arrived by 1 PM was Jon Aronson. To this day, I'm certain he had no idea that Spring Training had even started. He told me that he was there to deal with a "customer" in the parking lot and that all of his "best business" was done over by the dumpsters.
Several hours later, a few players started rolling in. Coincidentally, paychecks for the first month of the season were available starting that afternoon. Figuring this was as good a chance as any, I gathered them up and began to speak, "Gentlemen. I know that there's a lot of tradition here. You've had some incredible success in the past and I plan to extend that legacy. But it's gonna take work. A lot of hard work. Games in October are won and lost on the work done April. So let's..."
Third Basemen Sean Djernes had raised his hand, "This all sounds great, but who are you?"
I could see by the look on everyone else's face (by everyone I mean Lee Rosen and Brett Spaulding, as they were the only other two players there) that they were wondering the same thing. I explained that I was the new manager of the team. This was greeted by more blank stares.
Rosen broke the silence, "But you're not Paul."
Djernes chimed in, "Yeah, Paul's the coach. Speaking of which, where is he?"
Spaulding answered, "He's in Italy. He'll be back in six months, 27 days, and 8 hours. This guy is the coach this season, we got emails about it last week."
Dejected, I called Mr. Djernes. He assured me that he would contact the team and that we would restart spring training the following week. I went home, collected myself, and set up a new game plan. I was determined to make this work. An extra week could actually help, I told myself. I would soon learn how wrong I was.
The trials and tribulations associated with Spring Training are too many to count. But some of the issues that arose over that month of preparation still bother me today. For starters, Michael Reiss told me that he didn't have to practice because Paul Farinacci wasn't practicing. When I asked what that had to do with anything he responded, "Anything Paul can do, I can do better. If he thinks he doesn't have to practice, I'll show him that I can skip practice better than he can." I explained that he wasn't practicing because he was playing baseball in Italy. I immediately regretted doing so because I had to spend the next 3 hours convincing him not to hop on a plane out to Italy to join a team in the same league.
With just two days remaining before the start of the season, Eric Snow was still nowhere to be found. It was not until I received security tapes from the Bellagio in Las Vegas that I knew where he was. Apparently, he had been in the poker room there for 17 days straight. They informed me that he was on his way back to Los Angeles after being kicked out of their casino for "Jackson-slapping" other players at his table.
And these were just the off the field issues I had to deal with. There were also a multitude of actual softball issues that required my attention. Sean Djernes was having trouble throwing the ball from third to first, insisting that with his speed it was more efficient for him to run to first to get outs. Kevin Quinn consistently slowed down on fly balls so that he could dive to catch them as he was convinced that defensive plays would be the deciding factor in this year's MVP race. Lee Rosen refused to hit the ball anywhere but over the shortstop's head.
Last but not least, Darren Quinn came into camp with 17 different pitches. He had his standard pitch, a high arcer, and a change up, each pitch with its own unique nickname. I kept trying to simplify his approach but he repeatedly told me, "Score ten runs and I guarantee victory. If we lose, it will never be because of my pitching, only because of the lack of runs scored. Remember that. So leave me alone, and let me do my job. Also, I have a list of ten items that I think could really make the rest of the team better, let's talk after practice."
From the start, Spring Training was a nightmare. Every manager, wants to make a good impression the first time he speaks to his new team. I had prepared what I felt was a great pep talk to make that impression. There was only one problem: although practice was scheduled to begin at 10 AM, the only player who had arrived by 1 PM was Jon Aronson. To this day, I'm certain he had no idea that Spring Training had even started. He told me that he was there to deal with a "customer" in the parking lot and that all of his "best business" was done over by the dumpsters.
Several hours later, a few players started rolling in. Coincidentally, paychecks for the first month of the season were available starting that afternoon. Figuring this was as good a chance as any, I gathered them up and began to speak, "Gentlemen. I know that there's a lot of tradition here. You've had some incredible success in the past and I plan to extend that legacy. But it's gonna take work. A lot of hard work. Games in October are won and lost on the work done April. So let's..."
Third Basemen Sean Djernes had raised his hand, "This all sounds great, but who are you?"
I could see by the look on everyone else's face (by everyone I mean Lee Rosen and Brett Spaulding, as they were the only other two players there) that they were wondering the same thing. I explained that I was the new manager of the team. This was greeted by more blank stares.
Rosen broke the silence, "But you're not Paul."
Djernes chimed in, "Yeah, Paul's the coach. Speaking of which, where is he?"
Spaulding answered, "He's in Italy. He'll be back in six months, 27 days, and 8 hours. This guy is the coach this season, we got emails about it last week."
Dejected, I called Mr. Djernes. He assured me that he would contact the team and that we would restart spring training the following week. I went home, collected myself, and set up a new game plan. I was determined to make this work. An extra week could actually help, I told myself. I would soon learn how wrong I was.
The trials and tribulations associated with Spring Training are too many to count. But some of the issues that arose over that month of preparation still bother me today. For starters, Michael Reiss told me that he didn't have to practice because Paul Farinacci wasn't practicing. When I asked what that had to do with anything he responded, "Anything Paul can do, I can do better. If he thinks he doesn't have to practice, I'll show him that I can skip practice better than he can." I explained that he wasn't practicing because he was playing baseball in Italy. I immediately regretted doing so because I had to spend the next 3 hours convincing him not to hop on a plane out to Italy to join a team in the same league.
With just two days remaining before the start of the season, Eric Snow was still nowhere to be found. It was not until I received security tapes from the Bellagio in Las Vegas that I knew where he was. Apparently, he had been in the poker room there for 17 days straight. They informed me that he was on his way back to Los Angeles after being kicked out of their casino for "Jackson-slapping" other players at his table.
And these were just the off the field issues I had to deal with. There were also a multitude of actual softball issues that required my attention. Sean Djernes was having trouble throwing the ball from third to first, insisting that with his speed it was more efficient for him to run to first to get outs. Kevin Quinn consistently slowed down on fly balls so that he could dive to catch them as he was convinced that defensive plays would be the deciding factor in this year's MVP race. Lee Rosen refused to hit the ball anywhere but over the shortstop's head.
Last but not least, Darren Quinn came into camp with 17 different pitches. He had his standard pitch, a high arcer, and a change up, each pitch with its own unique nickname. I kept trying to simplify his approach but he repeatedly told me, "Score ten runs and I guarantee victory. If we lose, it will never be because of my pitching, only because of the lack of runs scored. Remember that. So leave me alone, and let me do my job. Also, I have a list of ten items that I think could really make the rest of the team better, let's talk after practice."
Despite all of this, I was optimistic about the upcoming season. Even with all of their problems, the J's had an abundance of talent. If I could only find a way to keep them motivated (or in some cases out of jail or simply alive), I knew we could win games. Conflict and controversy just seemed to be the norm for this clubhouse. I would soon learn that not only was the team okay with this kind of atmosphere, it actually thrived on it.
Fantastic. Paul, you suck.
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