Molina: The Story of the Father Who Raised an Unlikely Baseball Dynasty by Bengie Molina & Joan Ryan

Molina: The Story of the Father Who Raised an Unlikely Baseball Dynasty by Bengie Molina & Joan Ryan

Author:Bengie Molina & Joan Ryan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Sports & Recreation, Sports, Personal Memoirs, Baseball, Biography & Autobiography, General, History
ISBN: 9781451641059
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2016-06-27T21:00:00+00:00


PART

4

WHEN I PULLED into the lot of Tempe Diablo Stadium in Tempe, Arizona, for the start of spring training, my eyes went straight to the gigantic, wide-stanced A on the roof. I loved that A. The first time I saw it, it kind of reminded me of the Statue of Liberty because it was a symbol, at least for me, of arriving in a new world. I remember relatives from Puerto Rico who had moved to New York saying they felt like they loved their new city more than people who had been born there did. Pro baseball was still a new world for me, and I felt an immigrant’s love for everything about it. I loved the Angels’ training complex—the brick walls of the park, the uniform with my name on the back, the craggy buttes beyond the left-field fence. I loved the moment on the first day every spring when I walked from the clubhouse into the dim underground hallway and then emerged into the bright morning sunlight at first base. If I were a poet I might have made something of winter giving way to spring, dark opening to light. As a ballplayer, the field was symbol enough. Not a footprint on the dirt, not a divot in the grass. You felt like it was waiting for you to leave your mark.

Todd Greene was in camp. So were Walbeck and Hemphill, all of us again after the same job. Terry Collins was gone, however. Mike Scioscia—a forty-two-year-old former catcher—was getting his first shot at managing. He set a new tone immediately with morning team meetings, where in addition to talking about baseball stuff, he dispatched players on crazy assignments. He sent several Latin players to dinner with a young American pitcher from the Deep South. No one was allowed to speak his native language. They had us crying the next day recounting each side of the butchered conversation. Another day he sent players out to report back on a local ostrich festival. During the team meeting the following morning, an ostrich suddenly galloped into the clubhouse, sending us scrambling for cover. A saucer-eyed Ramon Ortiz dove into his locker. “Mire el pollo grande!” (Look at the giant chicken!) Another day, Scioscia showed up with two Arizona State University mathematics professors who proceeded to make pitcher John Lackey retake an algebra test he had flunked nine years earlier. In Scioscia’s meetings you could count on two things: You’d learn something, and you’d laugh.

During games, however, Scioscia was like an operative assessing his target—considering variables, noting patterns, anticipating moves and countermoves. He pounced on the smallest opportunity to gain the upper hand. He played to win every inning of every game, even in spring training. Everyone knew we didn’t have the talent to compete against the top teams. But apparently no one had told Scioscia. He reminded me of Pai with Los Pobres.

With a week left of camp, Scioscia called me into his office.

“Have a seat.”

I had been in that chair before.



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