Raul went oh for 21.
That’s when I benched him for his own good.
He wasn’t particularly upset by it but we had a long talk about his decline in hitting.
— I don’t understand it, either (he said).
— I think maybe the motivation is gone.
— I don’t see how.
— Well, you got yourself married. That makes you happy. I’m happy that you’re happy and Maria is happy. But sometimes, to motivate ourselves, we have to be a little bit unhappy.
— I was unhappy before, but I didn’t like being it.
— You were hitting .452 before.
— You think it’s because I am happy to be with my wife?
— Well, you two have become party people. You’re always turning up in “Page Six” in the Post and other places. You might just be burning the candle a bit too much.
— I understand what you say. Perhaps you are right. Maria is so much in love with this city. She is dazzled by everything and I want her to be happy.
— Stay home some nights and watch television. Order in pizza.
— Maria does not enjoy pizza.
— Well, maybe she would do it just for you.
But I could see that Raul didn’t think so, and, if truth be told, neither did I. Like I said, I did my best by benching him for a couple of games. I figured it might motivate him a little more.
Instead, it got me a visit down at the Stadium from Maria herself. She was dressed to the nines in a little wisp of a thing like Saks is always selling on page three of the New York Times. I must say, as I have said before, she is an extraordinarily good-looking woman and quite a forceful presence in a small, windowless, uncheerful room like my manager’s office underneath the stands.
She lit into me the way Charlene sometimes does when I order ribs. But this was not about eating.
“You embarrass Raul when you will not let him play and you embarrass me. I don’t want to answer questions about why Raul cannot play, A man called me twice from a newspaper this morning. What do I know about baseball? Why are you trying to disgrace us?” Those are the words as I remember them but not the tone. The tone was fast and furious. She was just letting it all out.
Like I said, if you’re the manager you have to take that shit from the owner from time to time, but I was damned if I had to take it from the player’s wife. Especially after all I had done for her and Raul
“Look, Miz Guevara, since Raul and you set up house in the Plaza, his batting average has dropped about a hundred seventy points. I don’t make no connections, but I do think it might be a good idea to spend a few more days hanging around the house and not doing the party party party all day and night.”
“Are you telling Raul and me how to live our lives?”
“Yeah, something like that. I figure it’s only fair as long as you feel compelled to tell me how to manage my baseball team.”
“You don’t manage except to insult a proud and sensitive man like Raul”
“I don’t recall Raul sending back any of his paychecks — his new and improved paycheck, I might add — while he’s been hitting zeros.”
“Raul was a happy youth in Havana. He had no desire to come to New York. But now that we’re here, we intend to enjoy the amenities of the city,” Maria said in that foot-stomping way of hers.
“Fine, Miz Guevara. You do what you got to do and I'll do what I’ve got to do,” I said. She had riled me, I have to admit. I also thought that maybe by building a fire under her, she could light up Raul.
I even went so far as to mention it to George.
His Gila monster eyes fixed on me for a long moment before he said anything. Then, “It sounds to me like our problem, all of our problem with Raul, is right there before our eyes. That little señora is raining our ball player.”
“Well, I don’t think she’s ruining him. He’s just got to find a way to balance his life. You know, the game and his social life and all,” I said.
George just stared right through me.
“I wish she’d go back to Cuba where she came from.”
“We can’t do anything about that,”
“Why not?” George said.
I didn’t like the way this was going. “Look, George —”
“I’ve got friends in the State Department. We can expel her as an undesirable alien.”
“George, you already put the fix in to get all these Cuban bail players, you can’t start putting in the fix to send one of them home —”
“I can do whatever I want,” George said.
It was pretty ominous from where I was sitting. I know Baxter said this and that, but I didn’t really understand who had who by the balls. George was upset because the team was faltering. He was upset because he had signed a two-year, eight-million-dollar contract with Raul. Raul was the draw at the box office and I had benched him. Raul was flashing in the pan, so to speak. That made George look like a fool and George didn’t like it. That could set George off in a bad direction. I know people like that. They’re into control, and sometimes they get their wires crossed.