Bill Conlin: Considering gray area in Phillies' search for Lopes replacement
MIKE RYAN WAS just 55 when he was reluctantly forced to end his long career as a catcher and coach.
MIKE RYAN WAS just 55 when he was reluctantly forced to end his long career as a catcher and coach.
"Irish" was hired as the Phillies bullpen coach in 1980. Great timing. So, he got a World Series ring in '80 and another one when the Phillies won the 1983 pennant and a third ring in 1993.
Mike's long day never ended at the ballpark, however.
After hours, often long after hours, the likable New Englander assumed the daunting role of GM Paul Owens' Guardian Angel. The Pope-minding job had just gotten too big for traveling secretary Eddie Ferenz. Paul Owens was a handful - make that a handful of handfuls.
"Irish" and The Pope worked out a routine that they would pull in some of the National League's most popular hotel watering holes. They would begin arguing heatedly over some baseball-related matter. Ryan was a master of slipping punches. He would have made a superb Hollywood Western fall guy. Out of nowhere, Owens would throw a straight right that appeared to catch Ryan on the point of the chin. He would go down in a heap and lie on the floor motionless.
"Don't anybody help him up," Owens would snarl to the startled patrons. "The SOB isn't worth helping." And he would stalk out. At which point, Ryan would pop to his feet, laughing, and say something like, "That's the third time this trip he's nailed me. I never learn."
By the '93 season, his right shoulder was completely shot. When a major league baseball coach can no longer throw - particularly a bullpen coach - he becomes a burden on the rest of the staff. Ryan had surgery and gritted his teeth through two more seasons. "When you can no longer do the things a bullpen coach has to do, like warm up a pitcher, it's time to go," he said. And "Irish" went, retired relatively young by the wear and tear of throwing a baseball in a major league setting for 31 years.
Pete Rose calls Billy DeMars the best hitting coach he has ever worked with. He nicknamed the baseball lifer "Sergeant Baseball" for Billy's military bearing and tremendous respect for the game. DeMars was a feeble hitter during a brief career with the A's and Browns, but became a student of the art during 10 years as a manager in the Orioles organization. He incorporated elements of the perfect golf swing and perfect tennis forehand into the traditional basics. If Rose had called at 2 a.m. and said, "Let's go hit," Billy would have been in the lobby in 10 minutes.
One broiling early afternoon in Houston, DeMars and I were playing a tennis match on the nearby Rice University courts. I was in my original body then and was 9 years younger than him. We were both gassed after splitting sets in triple-digit heat. He was a bulldog who never gave an inch to anybody and he would have blown me away in a third set.
But he put the cover on his racquet and said, "You win. If I play a third set, I won't be able to do at the ballpark what I'm paid to do. I've got to work in the cage with guys taking extra hitting, throw a BP turn, hit fungoes, then go out and coach third base."
I gained a lot more respect for what major league coaches do nearly 200 times each season, counting exhibitions. And I began to realize what a toll is taken over time by the daily pregame regimen - a coach throwing BP, a coach hitting infield grounders, another hitting fly balls, the bullpen catcher warming up pitchers throwing their side sessions. It is no place for a man pushing 60 to come down with a sore arm, a bad back or gimpy legs.
I never paid much attention to how old the Phillies' field staff has become until Davey Lopes resigned when GM Ruben Amaro turned down his reported $250,000 salary demand.
The former first-base coach, baserunning and outfield instructor, will turn 66 in May. He is a cancer survivor.
Manager Charlie Manuel is 66. Third-base coach Sam Perlozzo turns 60 March 4. Bench coach Pete Mackanin is 59. Hitting coach Greg Gross is 58. Pitching coach Rich Dubee is a relative infant at age 53. Bullpen coach Mick "Binocs" Billmeyer is 46 and drags the average age of the 2010 seven-man field staff down to 58. Without him it is 60.
The Phillies were one of four postseason semifinalists. They failed to make the World Series, but won the AARP pennant, arthritic hands down.
The champion San Francisco Giants' average field staff age is 49.3. At 48.7, the Yankees have the youngest average of the four teams that met in the LCS. The Rangers gray in at 54.7.
If there are any front-office concerns about the graying of Manuel and his staff, Larry Bowa probably will not be the guy. He turns 65 Dec. 6.
Just one word about an apparently widely held perception that Manuel could not coexist with the former Gold Glove shortstop. That's bunk. There are unwritten Coaches Room rules based on the implicit understanding that the manager's word is law. Coaches who leak inside information to the media or slime the manager behind his back have short careers.
Larry Bowa coached third here for Lee Elia, Nick Leyva and Jim Fregosi. I never heard him utter a critical word about any of them. He is coming off five seasons coaching third for the Yankees and Dodgers under future Hall of Fame manager Joe Torre.
Mistakes? Bowa has made a few. But failing to understand the subordinate role of a baseball coach is not one of them.
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