Francona: The Red Sox Years (23 page)

Wells and Clement started the first two games of the season in New York, and neither made it out of the fifth inning as the Sox lost both games. After the second game, Francona went to dinner at Del Frisco’s with his coaches, then walked back to the team hotel in Manhattan. The next morning, he boarded the team bus at 8:00 AM, bound for the series finale at Yankee Stadium. He felt cold and clammy. By the time the bus arrived at 161st Street in the Bronx, Francona was passed out in the front of the bus. Mills shook him awake, and they walked in through the press gate, hearing the usual catcalls from Yankee fans who had gathered outside the stadium entrance. Francona got into uniform and did his game-day radio interview with Joe Castiglione, but still felt sick. He walked across the clubhouse (the Yankees had installed new carpet after the Sox celebration in October ’04) to see trainer Jim Rowe, and Rowe called for an ambulance. Francona walked out of the stadium, but en route to Weill Cornell Medical Center, a 20-minute ride from Yankee Stadium, a paramedic administered nitroglycerin.

“I thought I was having a heart attack,” said the manager. “But it was a little chunk of blood clot that was going through me.”

Mills took over managing duties, and Epstein joined Francona at Weill, where they listened to the game on the radio. The Sox rallied for five runs in the ninth off Mariano Rivera and broke into the win column for the first time in 2005.

“I was lying there in the hospital, thinking,
We’ve got to win today. We just won the World Series, but we’ve got to find a way to win a game. We can’t start off 0–3.
”

“Once we knew Tito was okay, it was actually kind of a cool experience to be there with him, listening to the game on the radio,” said Epstein. “We were able to get away from the storm. We got away from all the noise. We were just in the hospital together. Obviously personal considerations were more important. To just enjoy a win together, it kind of created a nice feeling that things were going to be okay.”

After the game, Francona was medevaced to Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. He stayed at Mass General when the Sox went from New York to Toronto for a three-game weekend series. While the Sox were at the old Skydome, Epstein and Francona watched from the manager’s hospital room, eating takeout. When the team came home from Toronto with a 2–4 record (“Mills should have been fired,” said the manager), Francona was cleared for the most anticipated Fenway opener since 1912.

It was not a day anyone wanted to miss.

“It felt like they spent 8996 years planning it,” said Francona.

The 2005 Fenway opener pregame ceremony was a large production. The Sox assembled the Boston Symphony Orchestra, the Boston Pops, James Taylor, American soldiers who’d been wounded fighting in Iraq, and a conga line of ex–Red Sox, including Bobby Doerr, Dominic DiMaggio, Jim Lonborg, Fred Lynn, Carl Yastrzemski, and “Oil Can” Boyd. Lowe and Roberts were given permission to leave their new teams for the day for a trip to Fenway. Johnny Pesky and Yaz raised the 2004 championship banner in center field (Yaz was in his car leaving Fenway before the first pitch was thrown), and the 2004 players passed through the line of ex–Red Sox before they were presented with their rings. Bill Russell, Bobby Orr, Richard Seymour, and Tedy Bruschi threw out ceremonial first pitches. Francona was anointed the recipient of Bruschi’s toss—both starred at the University of Arizona. There was even a moment of silence for Pope John Paul II.

The presentation of the championship rings was a highlight. Hearing his name announced over the public-address system, Francona broke into a trot as he went to accept his hardware.

“Millsie gave me shit about that,” said the manager. “He said, ‘Don’t ever jog again. You look like you’re 81000.’”

At the urging of Torre, most of the Yankees stood on the top step of the third-base dugout, swallowed hard, and watched the ceremony they’d spawned with their abject failure.

“I’ve been on the other end of a few of ’em,” said Derek Jeter. “I was a little jealous, but they deserve it. You respect what they accomplished. You know how hard it is to do. They’ve waited a long time, so I’m sure a lot of thought and effort went into it.”

Bud Selig was there—the first baseball commissioner to witness a Sox flag-raising.

In an afternoon of memorable moments, one that stood out was the thunderous ovation showered on Rivera when he was introduced. It was a good-natured mocking by the crowd, but Rivera turned it in his favor by smiling broadly and waving his cap in appreciation. It’s easy to be gracious when you are the greatest closer in the history of baseball. His résumé would survive the blip against Boston in Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS.

“I thought what Mariano did put our game in a nutshell,” said Francona. “The way our fans cheered him and the way he reacted. It was respectful—by the crowd and by him.”

Francona enjoyed getting his ring from John Henry, catching the ball from Bruschi, seeing the tears in Pesky’s eyes, and the Rivera moment. But he couldn’t let go of the fact that his team was 2–4.

“I loved seeing so many people with so much joy,” said the manager. “But the whole time I was thinking,
Goddamn, we’ve got to be 3–4 after today.
You can win a World Series, but you’re 2–4, and that’s not good.”

Francona was not the only person in the park mindful of a bad start. Renteria came home to Fenway for the first time batting only .167 (4–24) and was booed when he was introduced. Fans didn’t understand why the Sox hadn’t tried harder to retain Cabrera and had little patience with the bad start by a career National Leaguer. The sensitive shortstop never recovered and was gone from Boston after one ordinary season.

“In Boston and Philly, there’s always that guy—the guy they boo—and Edgar was that guy for us that year,” said Francona. “I couldn’t believe the way they let him have it opening day. It had been a week. He wound up being one of everybody’s favorites in the clubhouse. He was in the middle of the poker games on the plane, and you could always get him to laugh. He just didn’t talk much. He wasn’t moving real well [30 errors], but it wasn’t a horrible year. He scored 100 runs. I just don’t think he was ever comfortable with the whole Boston thing. His lower back bothered him, he couldn’t bend over, and the cold weather drove him crazy.”

The Sox won the home opener, 8–1. Renteria went 1–4, boosting his average to .179. In his office after the game, Francona said, “To be honest, I’m glad it’s over.”

There was never a shortage of brushfires around Fenway, and the 2005 season was no exception.

Jay Payton, a spare outfielder acquired when Roberts was dealt to San Diego, tested Francona in early July. Payton was a 32-year-old veteran of five big league seasons who played in the 2000 World Series with the Mets. He’d agreed to his role as a spare outfielder but, like a lot of big leaguers, had trouble accepting the part-time position. It’s hard to get out of a slump when you only get to play once every three or four days. Slights, real and imagined, are close to the surface. Payton had been a big deal in college (he played at Georgia Tech with Varitek and Garciaparra) and with the Mets. Francona sensed a problem coming, and his fears were realized on July 6 in Texas when the typically poised Payton erupted when he learned he’d been maneuvered deep down in the batting lineup as a late-inning replacement. Francona was merely trying to avoid a succession of right-handed batters, but Payton took it as an insult to his batting skills.

Hovering over Francona, Payton said, “You have that little confidence in me!”

Mills tried to intervene. But it was too late. Everyone in the dugout heard it.

“If you want to be out of here that fucking bad, you’ll be out of here,” said the manager.

After the game, a 7–4 Sox victory, Francona called Epstein. The Sox were packing for a flight to Baltimore.

“Theo, I really need some help here,” said the manager, admitting he’d lost his temper. “If you let Payton get on this plane, I’m going to lose a lot of credibility.”

“Tell him not to get on the plane,” said Epstein.

Payton was designated for assignment the next day and traded to Oakland for righty pitcher Chad Bradford a week later.

“I felt horrible about the predicament I put Theo in, but it worked out for us,” said the manager.

There was plenty of grumbling elsewhere in the clubhouse. Millar was upset with his reduced playing time after the Sox acquired sweet-swinging John Olerud. Ever-polite Bill Mueller balked when he was asked to play second base for a day. Not accidentally, Payton, Millar, and Mueller were all in the final years of their contract. Foulke developed a knee problem and went to the disabled list, but not before insulting fans with a dismissive remark about getting booed by “Johnny from Burger King.” Schilling became the temporary closer. Wells was typically full of bluster and bombast, but nobody paid much attention.

Players had a chance to express gripes with management in roundtable discussions that were held at Fenway three or four times per season. The clear-the-air meetings were the brainchild of Lucchino, a CEO always open to argument and discussion. Sandwiches were served and grievances aired. The manager always attended.

“We did them in San Diego,” said Lucchino. “When we came here, we would have Jack McCormick or Terry invite players to a roundtable. We were in the middle of a massive redevelopment, renovation of the ballpark, and we knew that player creature comforts had to be addressed in many ways. There were a ton of ideas for how and when to do that.”

“I thought they were very productive,” said Werner.

“Those were good at the beginning,” said Francona. “About once a month, we’d get it together. Jack would set it up for early in the afternoon on the day of a night game. John, Tom, Larry, Theo, and me would all be there. It was a good idea. Pretty cool. Some good things came out of it. They would listen to players complain about things about the family room. We got a steam room out of it.”

The 2005 Red Sox were mediocre over the first two months, sleepwalking into the second week of June with a 32–29 record. Then they got hot, winning 12 of 13 and vaulting ahead of everyone in the American League East. Damon, Ortiz, Ramirez, and Varitek (wearing the captain’s “C” for the first time) were All-Star starters, but the midsummer classic was not a particularly happy experience for the manager of the defending World Champs. It’s traditional for the previous season’s pennant-winning managers to manage the All-Star Game. Francona was honored, but uncomfortable when Timlin and Clement thought he failed to promote their All-Star candidacies.

There was confusion because in previous seasons the All-Star manager had always had great influence over the selection of reserves. The system changed after Torre was accused of putting too many of his Yankees on the All-Star roster, but players still believed the manager had the final say, and that’s why Francona was on the hot seat when several players who were having good first halves, including Timlin and Clement, were omitted from the All-Star roster.

“That was our first team meeting of the season,” said Francona. “Clement and Timlin and some other guys weren’t on the team when the list of pitchers and reserves were announced. They had the red ass because they didn’t think I was sticking up for them enough. I had to have a meeting to explain how things worked, and I was pissed that I had to do that.”

With a World Series ring in his pocket and the prospect of a lengthy run in the Sox dugout, Francona made the decision to buy a home in greater Boston and move his family from Yardley, Pennsylvania. A lot of thought went into the move. Nick and Alyssa, the two oldest children, were already in college, but it was going to be traumatic to uproot the younger girls, Leah and Jamie, while they were still in high school and junior high, respectively. All the Francona kids were stellar high school athletes, and transitioning teenagers is never simple. Compounding the decision, Terry and Jacque couldn’t believe the cost of housing in greater Boston. They’d bought their house in Yardley for $350,000 and were able to sell it for $700,000, but $700,000 didn’t buy much in the suburbs of Boston. When Terry put down a deposit on a three-bedroom $1.65 million home in tony Brookline, Jacque and the kids made plans to permanently move in August. After a year and a half of living out of a suitcase, the Red Sox manager would be ready to say good-bye to his room at the Courtyard Marriott near Coolidge Corner.

And then his Red Sox career almost ended before the moving vans pulled up to 915 Hunt Drive in Yardley, Pennsylvania.

It was all about Manny.

Ramirez hit 45 homers and knocked in a whopping 144 runs in 2005. He also played in 152 of 162 games. Given his reputation as occasionally lazy and undependable, Manny was decidedly durable. In three seasons from 2003 to 2005, he played in 154, 152, and 152 games, respectively. It was later learned that some of his strength and game-readiness was owed to performance-enhancing drugs, but it was indisputable that Ramirez was available to play almost every day, certainly more than most players.

The tricky part was the manner in which Manny would take his time off. Francona appreciated his left fielder’s work ethic, and it was a luxury to be able to put Manny’s name in the lineup every day. Careful to keep his slugger from burning out, the manager scheduled an occasional day off for Manny. In late July ’05, with the Sox steamrolling most opposition, Francona told Manny he’d have a day off on the final day of the club’s seven-game road trip through Chicago and Tampa. It would amount to two days of rest because the Sox had a scheduled off day after the trip.

The Red Sox beat Tampa, 10–9, on July 26, but lost a couple of players in the process. Clement was knocked out of the game when a line drive off the bat of Carl Crawford struck him on the side of his head and ricocheted all the way into left field. Clement struggled the rest of the year, going 3–4 with a 5.72 ERA in 14 starts after the break.

In the same inning of the same game in which Clement was struck, Trot Nixon strained his left oblique swinging at a pitch and had to come out of the game. The Sox knew immediately that Nixon was bound for the disabled list and that the team would be shorthanded in the final game of the Tampa series. After beating the Rays, Francona sent Mills to Manny’s locker to ask the superstar if he could forgo his day off and play the next day. They promised to make it up to him later.