Plain Dealer sportswriter Bill Nichols, a baseball coach on the sandlots of Lakewood, recently put on the uniform of the Batavia Trojans to be a coach of the Indians' lowest minor league team and chronicle the experiences of youngsters getting their first taste of the professional sport. This is the last day of his reports
No. 15 in program shared players' hopes, anxieties
.By Bill Nichols
Laurence Olivier would be proud. Walter Matthau would be, too. It was some kind of acting job I pulled off during my 12-day run in Batavia.
I signed a contract with the Batavia Trojans of the New York-Penn Class A Rookie League and 12 days later, I signed my unconditional release. During that time, I coached and mingled with the players, gathering their thoughts and anxieties.
Being a coach is easy. I've done it for years with Lakewood youngsters. But to be a coach with a professional team, especially with no specific assignment took some real acting.
John Jakubowski, general manager of the Trojans, greeted me warmly on my arrival at Dwyer Stadium. He gave me a notebook and told me to look busy and no one would question me.
The next day, Dennis Brogna, the Trojans' trainer, issued me my uniform
with No. 15 on the back and I was introduced to the Trojans as a coach-instructor
on special assignment from the Cleveland Indians' main office.
Brogna didn't exactly issue the uniform. He threw it at me and said, "I hope it fits. If it doesn't, inhale a lot."
After I suited up for the first game, Brogna looked at me and said, "At least you look like a coach. You have the gray hair and the waistline. I hope you know something about baseball."
Knowing baseball wasn't the trick. The hard part was looking busy, acting like a coach but not doing anything except staying out of everyone else's way.
First-year manager Rick Colzie greeted me about as warmly as George Steinbrenner greets Billy Martin. However, we became fast friends.
I found Luis Isaac, the pitching coach, to be quick witted and good with the one-liners. He likes sportswriters.
Then there was Jack Cassini, the Tribe's roving coach who has been in pro baseball more than 40 years and wants to remain in it another 40. In fact, when his time comes, I'm sure he will ask to be buried at second base. Cassini was not overjoyed with me being around. He couldn't forget that I was a sportswriter.
He would tell me something and immediately add, "That's off the record." That's not how you talk to a fellow coach.
The players ignored me for a few days. They could have cared less. They were all busy playing ball.
However, on the first trip (to Jamestown), Kevin Malone, a second baseman from Louisville, was the first to make public his curiosity.
He came up and sat with me on the bus. After a few moments of idle chatter, he finally asked, "Mr. Nichols, what is it you do exactly?"
My mind clicking at machine-gun speed, I stuttered, "Aaah, aaah ... I'm a school teacher and close friend of Bob Quinn. He asked me to come here and get an overall concept of the operation and report back. We're going to do this with all the minor league clubs."
Malone seemed to buy it. Anyway, we became good friends - that is, until the day we were talking about ages and I asked him how old he thought I was. He looked at me and said confidently, "About 58."
With that, I snapped back, "You're through in this organization. You can expect your release any day."
Well, as luck would have it, Malone didn't play in the next three games and I reminded him about his faux paus. Finally, he got me down to about 40 years old and the next game, he opened at second base. My power was awesome.
As the days passed, a few players became very curious. Luis Duarte, a catcher from Miami, asked Isaac, "Did Mr. Nichols ever play in the big leagues?"
"Oh yeah," said Isaac. "He played seven years. He was a left-handed shortstop."
Duarte walked away shaking his head.
Chuck Melito, a power-hitting first baseman, popped up in one game and came over to me and asked what he did wrong. "Your right arm was too strong," I said. "You were way ahead of the pitch and you got only the lower half of the ball." He accepted it.
Darold Ellison made his debut at first base in the fourth game. To be quite frank, he was a klutz. I showed him how to use his feet. At least he listened. Fortunately, Colzie didn't hear me give any advice.
When the club was at Jamestown, I was walking from the clubhouse to the field and a fan asked, "Hey Skip, who you pitching tonight?"
"I haven't decided," I replied in a voice of authority.
Being a coach on special assignment did have its advantages, though. I signed a lot of autographs and was introduced to the Batavia fans on opening night.
For the first eight days, my chores consisted of talking to Colzie in his office, playing catch, holding on to my notebook and looking important.
The big night finally came in Geneva when the Trojans made their first visit there.
Dan Carnevale, the Indians' super scout, asked for and received permission from Geneva manager Bob (Poochie) Hartsfield for me to coach one inning. I was thrilled. My adrenaline began to flow. This was my chance. I was to do the first inning, but Colzie wouldn't tell me the signs. "You don't have to know them," he said. I was hurt.
Well, the big game was about to begin and as I started to jog to my position in the first base coaching box, some loudmouth in the stands yelled, "Hey Grandpa, if you don't hurry, you'll miss the game." I didn't need that.
The Geneva pitcher really had it that night. He threw just four pitches that first inning and the Trojans were retired without a whimper. My coaching career had ended before it began.
Cassini is the regular first base coach, but he was out in the bullpen. When the second inning began, he motioned for me to return to first. I was excited and this time dashed to my position. I thought, "Take that, loudmouth." There was not a peep from the stands.
I kept telling Colzie and Carnevale that if they let me coach, I would manufacture runs. Well, the Trojans did score two in the second inning and led, 2-1.
As I returned to the bench, I crossed paths with Hartsfield. As we passed, he said, "We're protesting."
There was no need for that. Geneva won, 12-2.
I was back in the coach's box the next night, too, when Geneva was in Batavia. The Trojans lost, 20-9, but, it wasn't my fault. Really, I had a pretty good game. I remembered how many outs there were every inning but one. I caught a foul grounder with the grace of a Mark Belanger. On a popup near the coaching box, I avoided the Geneva first baseman while running in circles trying to get out of his way.
But the downer for me was one point when we were behind by nine runs. Someone in the dugout told me a joke and I laughed. Cassini didn't hear the joke, but saw me laugh and barked, "Bill, knock it off." I did and was silent the remainder of the game. He apologized the next day.
Quite a few Batavia players remained curious about me and wondered why I was an instructor who didn't instruct.
On my 12th day, the secret was out. A new catcher needed my uniform. I was officially released and admitted to my charade.
I said goodbye to the players before a pre-game workout. They gave me a standing ovation. It was nice, but I didn't know whether they were applauding because I was leaving or because they liked me.
A PERSONAL NOTE - Two weeks with the Batavia Trojans was an experience I'll never forget. The management and players were most cooperative. It may be a minor league team, but the people I met are Major League in every way.
1980 Batavia Trojans
First row, L to R: Dave Gallagher, Nelson Ruiz, Kevin Malone, Kelly Gruber, Art Sullivan, Mark Wright, Angelo Gilbert, Ed Tanner, Tom Blackmon, Terry Norman, Kirk Jones. Second row: General Manager John Jakubowski, Andy Alvis, Lou Duarte, Chuck Hollowell, Justo Saavedra, Jack Fimple, Orestes Moldes, Manager Rick Colzie, Pitching Coach Luis Isaac, Chris Rehbaum, Gary Holden, Mike Crowley, Pat Grady, Mike Schwarber, Trainer Dennis Brogna. Third row: Chuck Melito, Todd Richard, Bill Nichols, Brian Meier, Darold Ellison, Mike Kolodney, Rick Elkin, Monte Holland, Mark Bajus, Tom Stiboro, Tom Burns, Eric Jones, Jeff Moronko, Matt Minium, Steve Jenter.