Have Glove, Will Travel_ Adventures of a Baseball Vagabond - Bill Lee [5]
Not everyone considered me a headache. The Montreal chapter of the YMCA circulated a petition demanding that the Expos immediately reinstate me. Over ten thousand people signed, including Charles Bronfman, the team owner. Pure window dressing, that—a billionaire playing to the masses, spreading a bit of the old Magoo. In the organizational hierarchy, Fanning was the manager. He managed the team in the clubhouse and on the field. McHale was the general manager. He managed the team’s business affairs. Bronfman was the owner. He owned everything—Fanning, McHale, the players, the uniforms, the balls, the bats, me until the day of my release. Had Bronfman told McHale to kiss my ass in the middle of Olympic Stadium, I would still be wiping lipstick from my cheeks, so don’t believe Charlie wanted me back on the club.
Anyway, McHale had no intention of letting any petitions alter his stance. Word went around he preferred giving Lefty Grove the opportunity to pitch before handing me the ball. Mr. Grove was a Hall of Famer, but he had died seven years earlier. Even after Woodie Fryman, Montreal’s only other reliable southpaw reliever, injured his arm, McHale and Fanning still refused to call me.
In early July, my friend Bill Brownstein asked if he could contact the American League teams. Desperation made me agree. Each club replied with a verbal form letter: “Thank you for thinking of us. We have our roster set. Yes, it is true we are in last place; yes, it’s true we are twenty games out and it’s only June; and yes, our starting rotation is so tattered we can barely flesh out a complete pitching staff. We do not need Mr. Lee at this time.” At this time. Another way of saying at any time. Ever.
We did not give up. Richard Lally, my coauthor for this book as well as my first autobiography, The Wrong Stuff, called Atlanta Braves assistant general manager Pat Nugent in early August. Atlanta had opened the 1982 season with thirteen consecutive wins and entered the All-Star break with a hefty lead in the National League West. In late July, however, the Braves fell into a protracted slump when most of the club’s starting pitchers lost their effectiveness. The losing streak allowed the Los Angeles Dodgers, San Francisco Giants, and San Diego Padres to pull nearly even in the division title race.
Richard buried Nugent under a landslide of statistics that revealed how well I had pitched in Atlanta’s home park. My friend also pointed out that I had compiled a career ERA of 2.54 against the Dodgers, Giants, and Padres, the very three teams that were threatening to overtake the Braves. Even I didn’t know that.
Nugent expressed surprise over the numbers and promised to give us an answer within a few days. A week passed. No call. So Richard phoned Braves vice president John Mullen and repeated his pitch. Read the tail end of their conversation:
Mullen: “Those stats are excellent, but I’m not sure we have a spot for Bill. We already have our twenty-five-man roster set.”
Lally: “Yes, John, I understand that, but at the moment they are sinking faster than the Andrea Doria, so let’s talk business. You do not have a single proven left-handed pitcher on your staff. You do not have any left-handers in the minors ready to come up. Bill can start for your team or pitch out of the bullpen as a setup man or long reliever. You can even use him as a left-handed specialist. He is willing to fly to Atlanta or anywhere else you choose at his own expense to show what he can do. The tryout has no obligations attached to it. Bill would even sign a minor-league deal if you like what you see but can’t find a place for him yet. And