Las Vegas Gold (9 page)

“Look,” he said finally, “you had better get the Las Vegas Police Department investigating this, but I will also be involved because of the Pat Trenowski thing. I can't believe there's somebody else involved here. Incredible.”

First thing next morning, Larry sought out Molly when she came to the stadium. He told her what had happened and suggested she get some security protection for herself.

“Yeah, but it was you he threatened. Why me?”

“Weren't you listening? He said you came next after me. Just maybe he might decide to reverse the order if it becomes convenient. This is real serious, Molly.”

“Hmmm. Yeah. But I thought we had Tabby's killer?”

“We might have. This may be a copy-cat. Who knows? Maybe Trenowski is innocent like he claims. The frightening thing for me is I know the voice; I just can't put a name to it. Frustrating.”

“The police put a tap on Henderson's phone lines at the office and at home. The security was instituted again, this time on both Larry and Molly. The coaches and players were not told, but both AGMs and Mike Malone were advised.

* * *

The Gold went on with their amazing winning record. Connie Armstrong won his fifth against two loses; Damaso Gonzalez won two more, and T.Y. Hollinger won three. Lynn Meriweather pitched a two hitter and then won another, although he only went five and a half innings that game. But Molly could sense they were getting tired. More and more she was having to go to the bullpen in the late innings, and she didn't want to wear out the relief pitchers' arms either.

“Larry,” she said next day when they were having a meeting in his office. “We need a fifth starter, and we don't have one on the club.”

Henderson called Eddy Harper in on the meeting. The AGM for Player Personnel was not surprised. “I'm way ahead of you. I've been aware the problem was coming up, and I've been doing some scouting. Unfortunately, everybody else is looking for pitching, too, and I don't know where or who anybody is looking to trade.”

“I did find something, though.” Eddy looked at both Larry and Molly. “Does the name Owen Hansford mean anything to either of you?”

“Yeah,” replied the General Manager after some thought. “He was a high draft pick by the Royals about 10 years ago, but he never turned out very well.”

“Right. He just couldn't seem to catch on. He's been booting around the minors—Triple A and Double A—for 10 years, always doing almost okay, but never quite making it with the majors. Usually the last pitcher cut at spring training. He must have been on the lists of ten different clubs, both leagues.”

“So why are you telling us all this?” asked Molly. “You want us to try this guy who can't make it? I'm looking for a starter who can walk right in and do the job.”

“Well Molly, I've spent the last two weeks off and on watching this guy. Hansford needs some good coaching and careful handling. His attitude is great, he really tries, and he hasn't let his long list of failures get him down. He is still sure he's going to make it. Never saw a guy like him before.”

“Well….” Molly was slow to decide. “It can't hurt to have a look-see and find out what he's capable of. What do you think, Larry?”

“Get him up here, Eddy. Try not to trade away too much. Where is he playing now, by the way?”

“Out in the Midwest in a Double A league in Nebraska. I can get him for another Double A player—straight swap.”

It took a week before Owen Hansford walked into Molly's office. In that week, the Gold had lost two one-run games to the Rays and a 10-1 blowout to the Blue Jays. She was not in the best of moods when the new man showed up. His big smile and happy demeanor made her mood change almost immediately. The tall and lean man reached across the desk to shake hands. He was indifferent looking, with mousy brown hair thinning at the back, a noticeably long nose and generous mouth.

“I'm Owen Hansford,” he said, his voice husky. “I'm a pitcher who can pitch, but I seem to be the only one who thinks so.”

“Well, now there are two of us. What's your biggest problem?”

“Getting anyone to believe in me. I get behind a batter or I make a bad throw, and I get yanked from the game instead of being given a chance to set things right. I'm not paranoid, just factual—at least I think so.”

“What do you throw?”

“Fastball, slider, curve ball. The fastball isn't as fast as it was ten years ago, but it generally goes in the high 80s and low 90s. I have a problem with control sometimes, but pitching in the minors means I don't always have a catcher to help me out too much. They're just learning the trade, and catching isn't easy to learn.”

“Okay, Owen. We're going to take a chance on you as a fifth starter. First we get a contract settled, and then you go into the hands of Willie Fontana. He's about the best pitching coach I've ever known. This is a good team, good morale in the clubhouse. I guarantee you'll find the players are willing to help.”

“Sounds like heaven to me. What do I call you? ‘Ms Malone?' ‘Boss?' I never worked with a lady manager before.”

“‘Molly' will do, and I like the term ‘worked
with
' rather than ‘worked
for.
' That sounds good to me.”

They went along to Larry Henderson's office, and Molly introduced the two and left them to talk contract. “Glad to meet you, Owen. Do you have an agent?”

“At the salary I make? I couldn't afford one.”

“So what are you making now?”

“Fifty-five thousand. I get by.”

“Okay. How about seven hundred and fifty thousand if you make the team, and that will be for the rest of the season. Then, all things being equal, we can renegotiate.”

“Where do I sign?” The big grin got even wider. “I feel like I just died and went to heaven.”

“Don't forget, there's a condition. You have to make the team.”

“For that amount of money, you can pencil me in the lineup today, Mr. Henderson. And I want you to know I'm grateful for the opportunity. You'll never know how grateful.”

“Thank Eddy Harper. He's the one who scouted you out and insisted we give you a try.”

“I will, believe me. Now, Molly said I was to report to Willie Fontana.”

“First, do you have a family?” The pitcher nodded his head.

“Where are they now?”

“Duluth. Our home's there. Wife and three kids.”

“Want to have them closer?”

“You kidding? You bet I do.”

“Okay. The team now owns the condo apartment that belonged to Tabby O'Hara. Three bedrooms, all furnished. You can have it for free until you and your wife find a place you would like to live, or until the condo's sold. We're settling his estate.”

Owen just shook his head as though in disbelief. “How in the world can I thank you? I've never been treated like this in my life.” He was close to tears.

“Just do your best and give us a new starting pitcher. That will more than pay for anything we do. Now for Willie Fontana. You'll find him down on the field, likely. He wears number 24.”

After leaving the GM's office, Molly had gone down to the field and collected all nine pitchers and herded them down to the bullpen. “Hey guys, listen up.” She proceeded to tell them about Owen Hansford and his difficult history.

T Y. spoke up. “I know him. Played Double A with him. He's a great guy. And he
can
pitch. I don't know why he never made it up to the majors.”

A couple of the others had played either with or against Hansford, and they echoed T.Y.'s comments.

“Great. That should make him feel a bit more at home. We want him for a fifth starter, but he's going to need help. I think you'll all agree Willie's as good a pitching coach as there is to help a new man who has some self-image problems. But he can have nine more coaches if you guys are willing. Just speak when you notice something he might do different, but most of all, let him know when he does something well. Encouragement is a great thing. I know you do that among yourselves. I hear it and I like it. Just add Hansford in there, too. Please.”

To a man they agreed, and assured her of their cooperation. T.Y. offered to take him to dinner that evening. She walked back on the field looking for Willie Fontana.

13

Owen Hansford worked with Willie and Bobby Joe for three days. Grazi Harango caught the first game against the Minnesota Twins, and Bobby Joe sat beside Owen, talking about each of the Twins batters and pointing out the positions played by the Gold infielders and outfielders. Lefty Connie Armstrong was pitching that day and had a good outing, going six strong innings before tiring. He left leading, with the score at 5-3. His one bad pitch was a fourth inning gopher ball that sailed away for a three-run home run.

Something else happened to Connie before he left the game. In the top of the fifth inning, he accidentally hit Harold Jacklin, the Twins' massive first baseman. The pitch was a high inside fastball that got a little too high and a little too far inside and ticked the brim of Jacklin's batting helmet, sending it flying and Jacklin to the ground. The big man was furious. He jumped to his feet, still holding his bat, and charged the mound. The umpire, Hiller Freeman, also a big man, followed in hot pursuit. The Twins bench emptied as the players poured out onto the field, expecting a fight.

Connie did as Molly had instructed, but his heart was pounding. As soon as he saw Jacklin coming, he turned his back and strolled toward second base, where Tubby and Danny Johnson moved close to him. None of the other players, either on the field or on the bench, moved. When Jacklin reached the mound, still carrying his bat, and saw Connie Armstrong approaching second base, he stopped in some amazement. The other Twins players also stopped before reaching the first baseline.

Turning toward the other players, the big first baseman yelled in frustration, “What's the matter with you guys? You scared to fight?”

By this time, Freeman, the umpire, had reached him. “You're out of the game,” he shouted, making the classical arm swing indicating ejection.

“Me? What for? I just came out to confront that SOB for throwing a bean ball!”

“No argument. You still have your bat. Intent to injure! You're out of the game.”

The Twins manager was by this time also in the argument. He and Hiller Freeman went head-to-head and toe-to-toe shouting, and the manager swearing, and after a minute or two the ump ejected him, also.

“What about the pitcher?” yelled the manager in a last minute show of anger and frustration.

“Just one of those pitches that got away,” replied the umpire. “He didn't mean to hit him.”

When the Gold came to bat in the top of the sixth, Jerry Lyons was the leadoff batter. The first pitch was a high, inside fastball that Jerry had to fall backwards to avoid. Immediately, Hiller Freeman threw the Twins pitcher out of the game and walked over to the Twins dugout, where he tossed out the bench coach who had been acting manager. That led to another argument, which Freeman cut short by walking away and heading back behind the plate, where he called for another Twins pitcher. That ended the trouble, but the Twins players were seething.

Kenny Sykes pitched the seventh inning, Freddy Greeley pitched the eighth, and young Mac Driscoll closed it out for his 12th save.

After the game, Molly complimented all her players for their patience, and singled out Connie especially. “You did what I asked you to do, and that took some guts. I'm proud of every one of you. And you see the result? Notice who looks bad. You guys will come up smelling like roses.”

Then she called Owen into her office. “Okay, Owen. Lynn Meriweather goes tomorrow evening, and on Saturday afternoon you get your first opportunity. The Indians will be here and you'll be pitching the second game of the series. You feel up to it?”

“You bet. Can I have Comingo catch for me? He really knows what's happening.”

“Yup. But you'll have to get used to working with Grazi as well. No personal catchers on this team.”

The media played the story as Molly had predicted. They praised the Gold for their team discipline and called for more managers to instruct their players to do the same thing, bringing to an end the all too often semi-brawls that occurred during games.

Meriweather pitched another nine-inning game, a four hit 2-0 shutout the next day, the first of a three-game series with the Indians, and on Saturday afternoon, Owen Hansford strolled out to the mound looking as carefree as though he hadn't a worry in the world. Molly moved over on the bench and sat down beside Willie Fontana. “Cross your fingers, Willie. You may be making a few trips to the mound this afternoon.”

“Aw, he'll do okay. Maybe not as good as we'd like, but he'll get there.”

The Indians leadoff batter hit the first pitch, a fastball low and outside, for a home run to straight away center field. “Here comes his first big test,” grunted Willie. Molly didn't say anything.

There was plenty of chatter from the Las Vegas infielders, encouraging Owen to “Go get 'em.” Bobby Joe walked out and had a short chat with the new pitcher, trotted back behind the plate and the game resumed. Hansford struck out the next three batters on three pitches each. Every teammate took time to clap him on the back or say something encouraging to him while the home team was batting.

Tubby Littleton hit a double off a misplaced fastball and scored on Porter Kipping's single. Corry Van Dyk contributed a triple to the right field gap when the Cleveland pitcher hung a curve ball, and scored on an infield error by the Indians short-stop. Digger Hazen chipped in with a single, Danny Johnson walked and Steve Hostetler drove them both home with a towering home run into the third deck in right field. That finished the Indians' pitcher's outing.

Owen Hansford had no more trouble. He went seven innings, allowing no more hits, and the bullpen finished off. The final score was 8–1, and Owen had his first Major League win. The entire team celebrated, and nobody was happier than Molly Malone.

Once more Sparky Hooper was busy answering “Where did that guy come from?” type of questions from the media. He answered every question truthfully, and added the Las Vegas management felt very confident about the new addition to the pitching staff.

The Gold went on a tear, winning the next dozen games at home and on the road before T.Y. Hollinger lost a heartbreaker to the Mariners on a ninth inning error by Jerry Lyons. Jerry dropped a throw from Tubby, and the runner on third crossed the plate with the winning run.

* * *

Larry Henderson got two more threatening phone calls, both from the same man, and was again frustrated because he just couldn't recognize the voice. The wiretap showed the calls came from Japan, but from different phones, and still nothing clicked in. In the meantime, Jeff Turnbull had been back on the West Coast for four days talking with Pat Trenowski. Trenowski insisted he had not killed Tabby O'Hara, and finally on the fourth day, after arguing for hours, there was a sort of break-through.

“Look,” Trenowski leaned back in his chair and lit one of Turnbull's cigarettes. “I'll tell you something. I
did
go to the stadium that night to kill O'Hara, on Tom Currie's orders. But when I got close to the dressing room, I couldn't get in. The place was full of cops. I was going to get O'Hara as he was leaving the stadium, but somebody beat me to it. I ran like hell and got a taxi to the airport. Caught the last seat on a plane just loading when I went through security. Cost me a lotta' money, too. Currie promised me a hunnert grand for the job.”

“Will you sign a statement to that effect?”

“Sure. It's already on your tape recorder there. I'm just so tired of this day after day bein' accused of somethin' I din't do.”

“Okay. Will you sign a statement telling us about Currie's drug business as well?”

“Why? What's in it for me? I don't want to get killed for rattin' on him.”

“We'll drop the charges against you and put you in the witness protection program after the trial's over.”

“How about until the trial? What happens until then?”

“You'll be in a safe house with a new name and new ID. You'll be safe. We need your testimony to get Currie and his pals on the drug charges.”

Trenowski thought for a while. Then he sighed a big sigh and let the front legs on his chair drop to the floor. “Yeah, okay. I'll do it. But I won't like it.”

“Like it or not buddy-boy, it's your only chance, and it is a chance; a chance to start a new life in the witness protection program, where you can get a new life and a new beginning.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Get me the statements, and I'll sign and go to court as a witness.”