Despite Monday’s resurgence, the team’s exhibition-season struggles continued. It may not have helped that the health of the team’s aging owner—Walter O’Malley—continued to be a question mark. The various medical complications after his abdominal surgery back in February carried on into the spring, causing ripples of uncertainty down through the team’s administration, into the clubhouse, and perhaps out on the field. After a couple of wins—against Baltimore, 8–4, on March 16 and against the Twins, 12–1, on March 17—the Dodgers lost two more against Houston and Montreal. After nine games the Dodgers’ record stood at a disappointing 3-6, and Lasorda must have taken some alarm at the fact that all six of the team’s preseason losses had come at the hands of rival National League teams. Certainly, this fact, and the Dodgers’ sloppy play, had been noticed by others around the league—including none other than their nemesis Sparky Anderson, who still seemed unimpressed at the Dodgers’ accomplishments of the previous season. “In my opinion,” said Anderson, “the Dodgers still have to play catch-up with us. They may be wearing rings that the organization gave them as a token for making the playoffs, but the big stone still isn’t there, it still isn’t a World Series ring. What happened last year wasn’t a true test, and didn’t really prove anything because of the way we had to completely rebuild our pitching during the season. This year will be the test and the Dodgers are going to have to beat us two years running, which no one has done in my eight years here.” Other members of the Reds concurred with the team’s manager. “Maybe I’m wrong,” said Pete Rose, “but on an overall basis I think we have more players who have performed more consistently that the Dodgers. If you put the teams next to each other and had every player perform up to his capability, to his career statistics, we would win.”4 In other words the Reds were not going to let the pennant get away again without a fight.
Lasorda, pointedly, offered no comments about the Reds in his postgame press reports. “I’ll leave that to Sparky,” said Lasorda. “At this point, I’m only interested in our own preparation and at this point I’m pleased with our progress. I remain confident that we will be a better team than we were last year. These guys tasted the fruits of victory. They know what it takes. They want to do it again, and they have worked very hard. I’m positive they will be ready physically, mentally, and fundamentally.”5 The Dodgers responded to Lasorda’s optimism by recording two straight wins—a 14–1 blowout of the Rangers in which Rick Monday went four for four with a home run and a 6–1 win over the Braves. On March 22 the Dodgers followed up with a close loss in an eleven-inning game against the Orioles, 9–8. In the game, a classic spring-training tilt characterized by poor play and missed opportunities, both teams had six errors apiece. The Dodgers lost in the bottom of the eleventh inning, in fact, when Dodger utility man Lee Lacy committed two errors on one play, first kicking a grounder and then throwing wildly past first base to allow the tying and winning runs to score. With their record now 6-7 on March 23, the Dodgers followed with three straight convincing wins—12–1 over the Mets, 5–0 over the Yankees, then 6–2 over the Mets again on March 25. In the most recent game Rick Monday shined yet again, going two for two against the Mets with a triple and three RBIs.
With these signs of life from the team at last, Walter O’Malley must have finally felt inspired enough to make an appearance in Vero Beach. Fresh from his stay at the Mayo Clinic, O’Malley appeared at the head of the Dodgertown conference table on March 25 and pointedly lit a cigar before holding court. “I feel so damn good right now,” O’Malley told a reporter. “A combination of Irish whisky and Florida citrus seems to be all I ever need to recover from my physical problems.” When asked about the team, and if he had had any contact with harried manager Lasorda, O’Malley laughed and cracked a joke—“I told Tommy that when he goes to the mound to take a pitcher out, his belly is now getting there a minute before the rest of his body does”—before growing serious. “Actually, I’ve learned not to get too emotional about what happens in the spring. Everything has a way of finding its level.”6
The next day another convincing win, 12–1, over the Houston Astros raised the team’s exhibition record to two games above .500, and the Dodgers’ general manager weighed in with thoughts about the Dodgers’ prospects in 1978. Saying that the team compared favorably to the Snider-Robinson-Campanella era of the 1940s and ’50s, Al Campanis said, “We will have the best rounded team in the 21 years that we have been in Los Angeles.” His assessment, he continued, was based on five factors. The first four were related to the clubhouse personnel he had brought together: the core of players who had brought home a National League pennant the previous year, particularly its consistent top-end starting pitching; the addition of left-handed reliever Terry Forster, who was having a very good spring thus far; the resurgence of Rick Monday, whose injuries seemed to be behind him; and the improved reserves on the Dodgers’ bench. The final factor was a surprise, and an indication of the ability of the Reds to continue pushing the organization’s buttons: Campanis suggested the team was strong because of Tom Lasorda’s burning and angry drive to win. “I think Tommy genuinely hates the Cincinnati s.o.b.,” said Campanis. “When Walter Alston retired and Sparky said, ‘now the Dodgers are going to find out just how good a manager Alston was,’ Tommy felt he was being belittled. He was quick to pick up on it and hasn’t forgotten it.” Campanis then ended his statements with a mild jab at Anderson. “I’d hate to have a man of Tommy’s temperament and motivational ability genuinely mad at me.”7
After finishing the grapefruit season with two straight losses that dropped the Dodgers back to .500, at 9-9, the team flew back to Los Angeles for the opening of the Freeway Series against the Angels on the last day of March. The results couldn’t have been more disappointing—not only was the game in Anaheim a rare rainout, called in the fourth inning with the Angels leading 5–0, but Reggie Smith slipped on some wet turf during the game and injured himself. Afterward, Smith was angry. “I told myself,” said Smith after the game, “‘take your time.’ I was going real slow and I still couldn’t hold my feet. My left leg went out and I felt something go in here.”8 Smith pointed to his right groin area.
Adding to the sense of disappointment for the defending National League champions was the news that came to the clubhouse sometime during the game. Former Dodger third baseman Billy Cox, who had been one of the so-called Boys of Summer and played on three National League pennant-winning teams in Brooklyn in the late 1940s and early 1950s, had died of cancer the night before the game in Anaheim. Add the fact that Iron Man Steve Garvey, who started the season having played every game during the previous two seasons, twisted his ankle in the rainy conditions at Anaheim Stadium, and suddenly the Dodgers seemed more vulnerable than a league champion should be. Lasorda, for his part, seemed eager to get on with the season. “I didn’t want to see any more people getting hurt,” Lasorda said plaintively. “At least we got some of our work in . . . We’re coming up to the season now and we’ve got to play; we’ve got to get our work in.”9 On April 1 the Dodgers lost a close one to the Angels, when the American Leaguers scored two runs in the bottom of the ninth inning on a two-out single by outfielder Rick Miller. A day later the Dodgers lost again to the Angels, unofficially giving the American League squad a sweep over Lasorda’s boys, their first since 1964. The Dodgers’ preseason record dropped to either 9-11 or 9-12, depending on whether you counted the 5–0 game that had been halted in the fourth inning.
Despite the clouds over the team, there was some good news for at least for one player. Although team management had declared that Glenn Burke was likely to be on the chopping block at the end of spring training—a fact made even more likely by the surging Rick Monday—it was announced on April 2 that Burke would actually be on the team’s twenty-four-man roster when the season opened on April 7. It helped that the Dodgers’ experiment with Willie Crawford had failed, leaving open an outfield spot. In addition to this news, the Dodgers announced that althoug
h the team’s stellar young right-handed pitching prospect Bob Welch would not be on the team’s opening-day roster, since there were already five starters slated for the start of the season, he was being awarded the Dearie Mulvey Award as the team’s most outstanding spring-training rookie in 1978. Welch had posted a 2.08 ERA and struck out twelve batters in thirteen innings pitched during the exhibition season.
The Dodgers finished spring training with a loss in Arizona—6–5 against the A’s—and then promptly hopped on a plane for Atlanta for the season opener against the Braves. On the plane players were chastened. Although a number of the Dodger starters—Reggie Smith, Ron Cey, Bill Russell—had been hampered by niggling injuries, several players and coaches were worried about the team’s mind-set leading into the opening week of the season, in which the team would play six road games against division rivals Atlanta and Houston. “If you were to ask me if I sense a complacency here,” said Bill Russell, “my answer would be that I can. If being complacent is to think, ‘Hey, we’re the league champions, we don’t have anything to prove again, we just have to go out there and everything will take care of itself,’ then yes, I think there’s complacency here.” Russell lowered his voice before continuing. “We played like rookies instead of major leaguers this spring. We shouldn’t play like we did no matter who’s in the lineup. I’d like to have the attitude of last spring. I’d like to have the winning pattern of last spring.” Russell’s manager somewhat agreed with the shortstop’s assessment, though he couldn’t help but be optimistic as well. “It’s true,” said Lasorda. “We’ve given some games away. I don’t like that at any time. I would be more concerned, however, if it had happened with our regular lineup. The injuries have been a setback, no doubt about it. I was quite pleased with our conditioning, our progress and the playing time the regulars had been receiving when we left Florida. Since then we’ve pretty much come to a standstill in all areas. Yet our regulars will be out there Friday [on opening day] and that’s when it counts. A week from now no one will remember our spring record.”10
Other Dodger players, meanwhile, were much more circumspect regarding the team’s recent play, its 10-14 final spring exhibition record, and the various fits and starts among its presumed starting lineup. “Last spring was different,” said Dave Lopes. “There had been a complete change of command. Everyone was more emotional, more motivated about spring training. I’m not saying that the attitude isn’t as good now . . . it’s just that the emphasis is different. . . . The concern is to come out of spring healthy.” Ron Cey, who was nursing a hamstring injury, concurred with the sentiment of his captain. “The major consideration,” said Cey, “is that we may not be as aggressive as we will be later on. We many have to play it cautious for a few games so that we don’t aggravate the injuries and risk being out longer than we already have. The situation forces us to be at our best mentally.”11
Opening day for the defending National League champion Dodgers on April 7, 1978, had a familiar air about it. On the mound for the Dodgers in Atlanta was the veteran right-handed “ace” of the team, Don Sutton. It would be the seventh such start for Sutton, a feat that tied him with Don Drysdale for the most opening-day pitching starts. It was, of course, an indication of Lasorda’s adherence to baseball orthodoxy that he remained committed to offering Sutton the honor. In Sutton’s own words, he didn’t belong on the mound on this day. “On the basis of last year,” Sutton said before the game, “Tommy John deserves this start. On the basis of this spring, Bob Welch deserves it. I don’t really deserve it on any basis other than longevity. It’s like giving a special trial to the senior partner in a law firm.” He also quickly added that he wasn’t going to turn the honor down: “When something exciting is going on,” Sutton said, “I would rather be in it than on the sidelines. I’m a lousy spectator. I honestly think if there had been more of a race last year, I’d have been more effective down the stretch. I’m not attempting to rationalize for an unsatisfying record (14-8). I’m simply a person who responds when something is on the line.”12
If he was worried about his complacency in the face of the Dodgers’ excellence in 1977, after opening day in Atlanta Sutton may have only had more concerns. Before a sellout crowd of nearly forty-three thousand at Atlanta Stadium that also saw the very first managerial appearance of the Braves new skipper, Bobby Cox, the limping, gimpy Dodgers stuck it to the Braves with a fourteen-hit, thirteen-run barrage of offense in which every starter had at least one hit. Sutton certainly started the game shakily enough, giving up runs in each of the first four innings, before settling down and letting the Wrecking Crew do its damage. “I allowed myself to get caught up in the excitement,” said Sutton afterward. “I was trying to throw harder than I’m capable of throwing. It used to be that when I’d give up three runs early I’d go looking for the guys in the white jackets and padded cells. With this team, however, my only philosophy is to keep us close. I know that unless we’re absolutely killed early we’ll general rally.”13 When the dust had settled, Sutton had pitched seven innings for a 13–4 win, improving his all-time record against the Braves to 26-11, and the Dodgers had evidence that their punchless spring training was likely an anomaly.
Beyond the win the bigger story of the game was the performance of Rick Monday. Having ended the exhibition season with a .302 batting average, Monday came to opening day confident that he was ready to play in 1978. Monday went four for five in the game, scored three runs, and knocked in four RBIs. Additionally, he played hard in the field from the start, attempting a leaping, twisting grab in the first inning off the Atlanta Stadium wall on a long fly ball off the bat of Braves center fielder Rowland Office. After the game Don Sutton sought out Monday to thank him for the attempt to rob Office of his early home run. Monday, watching the veteran pitcher walk away afterward, was amused. “There’s a lot of Missourian in all of us,” said Monday, chuckling. “We all have to be shown. Even Sutton didn’t believe my back was better. He let Office test it in the very first inning.”14
All through April Monday would continue his tear, doing his best to prove doubters wrong. And the Dodgers, following Monday’s lead, got off to a solid start. After sweeping the Braves in Atlanta, they traveled to Houston for a series-opening 5–2 win. Though they lost the next two games against the Astros, by the close scores of 1–0 (against Houston ace J. R. Richard) and 11–10, there seemed to be some fight in the squad. The last game, a wild shoot-out in which neither Sutton nor Houston starter Joe Niekro nor any other pitcher in the game could seem to get anyone out, was lost when Dodger rookie pitcher Bobby Castillo gave up the tie-breaking run on a fielder’s choice in the bottom of the ninth. “They end up beating us with a couple chinkers,” the feisty Lasorda said after the game. “The kid (Castillo) makes a hell of a pitch to Howe [who led off the ninth with a double] and he doesn’t hit the ball hard enough to be caught. Alou hits a little roller and if it’s two feet the other way we’re still playing. The Astros got a little lucky.”15
On April 14 the Dodgers hosted the team’s first home stand of the season against Atlanta, Cincinnati, and Houston. After sweeping the Braves in the first two games of the stand, the Dodgers lost two of three against the surging Reds—whose cockiness had returned somewhat, thanks to a 9-4 record and possession of first place in the NL West. The Dodgers, however, at 7-4, were not far behind. And Rick Monday continued to fuel the team’s hopes. In the final game against the Reds, Monday’s two home runs (he now led the league with six) were key in a 5–4 win. In the four-game series against Houston, the Dodgers won three times, with Monday contributing another home run in the final game. After beating Houston and ending the home stand, the Dodgers, at 10-5, were solidly in second place, just a half game behind the Reds. On April 25 the Dodgers then traveled to Cincinnati, beat the Reds twice, and took over first place by half a game in the Western Division.
This is where things stood at month’s end. And while the results of this April in no way resembled the results of April
a year earlier, the Dodgers had to be pleased with the results. What’s more, they had to be more than pleased by the play of their suddenly resurgent Rick Monday. For the month of April Monday led the Dodgers with a .353 average and .754 slugging percentage. He had hit eight home runs while knocking in twenty-two RBIs, even while his strikeout total, usually swollen by his free-swinging habits, remained low. (On May 1 Monday had struck out as many times, eleven, as he had walked.) The center fielder, in fact, had almost single-handedly carried the Dodgers through the month. While sluggers like Cey, Smith, and Baker had yet to get on track, Monday had been the key scoring catalyst in six of the Dodgers’ wins in the season’s first month. Without Rick Monday, it is safe to say, the Dodgers’ season as of May 1 would likely have been heading in a different direction altogether.
19
Every Day We Pay the Price
Open letter to Walter Alston: I want to offer my apologies for ever having rapped you for being The Quiet Man during your years with the Dodgers. Compared to loudmouthed Tommy Lasorda, silence is indeed golden.
—Letter to the editor, Los Angeles Times, June 24, 1978
The rivalry between the Reds and Dodgers being what it was, and lasting as long as it had by 1978—the two teams finishing first-second in seven of the previous eight seasons—it’s no surprise that their habit of sniping about each other should intensify early in the season. After the Dodgers swept the Reds in Cincinnati at the end of April, Joe Morgan unloaded on the Reds’ rivals in blue and their manager. “He is a smart ass,” Morgan exclaimed, referring to Lasorda’s poking fun at Sparky Anderson for closing the Reds’ clubhouse to reporters thirty-five minutes before each game. “What Sparky does in this clubhouse is none of his (Lasorda’s) business. Sparky doesn’t go around popping off about Lasorda hugging and kissing his players. They’re all a bunch of hypocrites over there. Running together before every game and I know they all don’t like each other. I just read in the Sporting News where they’re all mad at Steve Garvey again.” Morgan was referring to a recent L.A. Times article, picked up by The Sporting News, in which sportswriter Skip Bayless suggested that Steve Garvey was the “loneliest Dodger,” primarily because his teammates refused to accept him, his personality, and his image. Though Dodger players and team officials were quick to discount the story—Lasorda said there was “no problem” on the team, and several teammates were nonplussed that the issue seemed to be lingering after having been dealt with several years before—Morgan couldn’t help but try to stir things up. “I guess Joe doesn’t have enough to worry about in his own clubhouse,” Lopes said in response to Morgan’s rant. “All along the Reds have seemed to be interested only in what we’re doing.”1
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