Francona: The Red Sox Years (24 page)

Manny said no. He still wanted his day off. And Francona had promised.

“When Millsie told me that, I was kind of pissed,” said Francona. “I went to Manny and said, ‘Hey, we’ve got no outfielders. We need you today.’ But he was in one of those moods. He just said, ‘You told me I had a day off.’”

So Manny sat while Adam Stern made his second big league start. After the game, when reporters asked Francona if Ramirez had been asked to play because of an unexpected situation, Francona answered, “We told Manny he could have a day off, and he took it.”

“I didn’t bury him, but I didn’t come to his rescue,” said Francona.

When the Sox came home, it was a full-blown storm. Thursday was a scheduled day off, but the Sox were still headline news. Sox fans were reeling from a
Sports Illustrated
item in which the estimable Tom Verducci wrote, “Manny Ramirez wants out of Boston.” Lucchino went on the franchise flagship station WEEI and confirmed that Ramirez had asked for a trade.

The Boston brass called Francona to Fenway for a meeting. Henry didn’t like the idea that Francona would have his bench coach first approach Ramirez. Totally removed from the clubhouse, oblivious to the dynamics of dealing with Ramirez, the owner thought the manager should have gone directly to Manny first.

The meeting at Fenway did not go well.

Henry spoke first.

“Terry, we want you to make a public apology to Manny,” said the owner.

“No, John,” said the manager. “Fuck that. I thought this was going to be the other way around. Are you shitting me?”

Henry and Lucchino left the room.

Francona turned to Epstein.

“I’m going home, Theo,” said the manager. “And I don’t mean back to my house. I mean back to Pennsylvania.”

“I think that meeting was about me,” Francona said later. “John had a blind spot for Manny. Manny was the perfect player because of his numbers. But I was livid that day. I couldn’t believe it. I thought we were going to try to fix things, but not by me apologizing. That would have buried me with the other 24 guys. I couldn’t do that. I had had enough.”

Epstein brokered a truce. He told the deflated Francona to go home and show up to work at Fenway for the Twins game the next day. He would deal with the owners. And Manny. There would be no apology from the manager.

“Theo cleaned it up,” said Francona. “That’s when Theo was at his best. He was good. I wasn’t going to apologize, because I didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s face it: with a talent like Manny, at some point you’ve got to balance how good he is with the rest of these guys in that clubhouse who were killing themselves. I came back the next day and started trying to put it back together.”

“I had to try to explain the realities of managing a team to the group,” said Epstein. “I reminded John, Tom, and Larry about how difficult the manager’s job is and how he has to make difficult decisions on handling players on a daily basis. One thing that truly sinks a team is if the manager loses the respect of the players. That’s the quickest way for a team to completely go off the rails. I told them that Tito couldn’t do that. He needed to have some autonomy on how he handled these situations. I also had to give Tito some perspective of the realities of owning the team and watching it from a removed position and how different perspectives were natural, but didn’t necessarily have to lead to dire conflict.”

One of the happier developments of the turbulent late summer was the return of Gabe Kapler. The thoughtful outfielder had signed with the Yomiuri Giants after winning the World Series, but rejoined the Sox at the end of July. Francona cherished veteran role players who sometimes served as assistant coaches. Kapler was one of the best. He was smart, sincere, and he understood his role, never complaining about playing time. Everyone could see he was a manager-in-the-making. Late in the 2005 season, Kapler spent some time counseling Francona in the weight room up the stairs from the home team clubhouse. (The Fenway weight room is shared by the Sox and their opponents because there’s not enough room for a visitors’ weight room—imagine A-Rod and Varitek pumping iron, side by side, the day after they slugged it out in July ’04.)

“It was complete role reversal,” said the manager. “I was at a loss, just going through a tough time. Kap walked by me and stopped by and asked how I was doing. We must have talked for 45 minutes. It was kind of strange. I’m the manager and he’s a bench player. But it was such a caring conversation. He kept telling me that we were going to be okay. I was telling him things that were bothering me at the time. Right after that, I saw him going to people, pushing them in the right direction. That was special. It stayed with me. When you’re going through a tough time and you’re with people like that, it makes it a lot better.”

In mid-August the Sox were 68–47 and had a five-game first-place lead when a Sunday home game against the White Sox was postponed due to rain. Over the objection of the manager, the game was rescheduled for a September day that was supposed to be an off day in between home series against the Orioles and Angels. Francona wanted to play the game, if necessary, after the conclusion of the season. His owners wanted to wedge it into the bridge between the series against Baltimore and Los Angeles.

“We had a meeting on that too,” said Francona. “I tried to explain that we were on fumes and if we didn’t play that game on that day, it was a win for us.”

“Just play the backup guys,” suggested Werner.

Francona gripped his chair and reminded himself to hold back after hearing the insulting suggestion.

The game was played on the busy Monday, and the Sox lost, 5–3. Four weeks later, on the final weekend of the season, the Sox were in a steel cage match to make the playoffs and needed a victory on the final day of the season to guarantee admission into the tournament. Francona had to pitch Schilling against the Yankees in the regular-season finale. Boston’s 10–1 win put the Sox in the playoffs for a third straight season, but the pitching rotation was mangled by the late-season urgency, and the Sox were not in a position to succeed when the playoffs started in Chicago two days later. The Sox played 30 games on 30 consecutive days in September.

“Our worst fears came true,” said the manager. “We had to pitch Schill on the last day of the season.”

The Sox playoff spot was clinched early during the Fenway finale when the White Sox beat the Indians in Chicago. Francona lifted many of his starters once the playoff bid was sealed, but it was too late to save Schilling for any of the first three games of the ALDS against Chicago. The manager felt a little resentment when he saw the Red Sox owners and their friends gathering in the dugout tunnel in the final inning of the 10–1 victory. Everybody wanted to get in on the wild-card clinch celebration, but Francona hadn’t felt supported earlier in the month when his team needed a day off.

While the Sox celebrated their playoff bid on the field, Francona and Epstein stood off to the side and started talking about their playoff roster and rotation. It was an animated conversation that looked like an argument when it was aired on the evening news.

“The exuberance of making the playoffs went away pretty quickly that day,” said Francona. “Obviously, we were glad we won, but we were not lined up to have a good showing in that first round.”

Two days after the cheesy “wild-card champs” celebration on the Fenway lawn, the Sox opened their playoff run with a 14–2 loss at US Cellular Field in Chicago.

Clement was awful. He hit two of the first three batters he faced. He gave up five runs in the first inning and wound up surrendering eight runs before Francona lifted him with one out in the fourth. The White Sox hit five homers, three off Clement. The Red Sox were smothered by Chicago’s Cuban righty, Jose Contreras. There was some irony there. Contreras was the object of desire in the winter of 2002–2003 when new Sox GM Theo Epstein was rumored to have trashed his Nicaragua hotel room after losing a bidding war with the Yankees. That was the signing that prompted Lucchino’s infamous remark: “The Evil Empire extends its tentacles even into Latin America.”

Three years later, Contreras was sticking it to the Red Sox again, this time in a White Sox uniform.

The Sox were still reeling from their regular-season weekend sprint against the Yankees, and Francona started thinking about Game 2 long before Game 1 was over. Saving Papelbon and Timlin, he used Chad Bradford, Geremi Gonzalez, and Bronson Arroyo for playoff mop-up duty. The goal was to have Wells win Game 2, then bring the series back to Boston, where Schilling would be waiting to pitch Game 4.

Wells looked like a good bet. The big southpaw was 10–3 lifetime in the playoffs and World Series.

The plan looked pretty good when the Sox burst to a 4–0 lead in Game 2. Wells cruised into the fifth with a two-hit shutout, then got into trouble. He gave up three hits and a pair of runs, but looked set to get out of the inning when Juan Uribe’s potential inning-ending double-play grounder skipped between the legs of Sox second baseman Tony Graffanino. Buckner style.

Francona sent pitching coach Dave Wallace to the mound to talk to Wells. After Wells got the second out of the inning, Chicago rookie Tadahito Iguchi drove a 1–1 pitch over the wall in left for a 5–4 White Sox lead. Fireworks. Ball game.

There were more fireworks when Francona came to the mound to lift Wells with two outs in the seventh.

“He swore at me, but I wasn’t paying attention,” said Francona. “At that point, it’s just ‘Give me the ball, David.’ When I got back to the dugout, I started getting reports that he was breaking stuff in the clubhouse. A couple of players said, ‘David’s back there having a fit.’ I just said, ‘Whatever. I’ll get to him later.’ Things like that didn’t bother me.”

The Red Sox went down feebly in the ninth. Later that night, after all the interviews were done, Francona was packing in the manager’s office when he noticed the looming presence of Wells in the doorway.

“You know I really wanted to kick your ass when you came to get me,” said Wells. “I really wanted to punch you out.”

“Fuck, Boomer, give me a break,” said Francona. “Are you kidding me? I’m tired. Do you want to have a fistfight? Fine. Let’s go. But we’ve got to hurry because I want to get to the airport before the White Sox so we can get through security and get out of Chicago before them.”

Wells was disarmed. Soon the two were sharing a beer.

“I knew how David could be,” said Francona later. “He was like a little kid. He was fine. I took him out because I was thinking I might be able to bring him back later in the series. We were scuffling there just to win one game. It wasn’t something I could explain to him out there on the mound that day, but when I told him in my office, he understood. That’s just how Boomer was.”

Through the magic of traveling secretary McCormick, the Red Sox beat the White Sox to O’Hare and took off first.

The airplane race was Boston’s only victory over Chicago in that series. On Friday afternoon, October 7, Chicago won the clincher at Fenway, 5–3, officially ending the 2005 title defense. The Sox lost the finale, with Renteria making the final out on a feeble grounder.

It was the final Red Sox game for Millar, Mueller, and Damon.

“These were the best three years of my life,” Millar said.

“I think it’s been awesome,” added Damon. “I’ll remember how our players loved the city and how the city loved us and how they enjoyed us.”

After all the glory and heroics of 2004, Schilling never got the ball in the 2005 playoffs.

“I certainly didn’t expect to be on a postseason team and not get the ball, but it was my own fault,” said Schilling. “I struggled all year, and then we went down to the last game of the season and I had to pitch.”

“The White Sox that year were really good,” said Francona. “They were the team that we had been the year before. Having Schilling would have been good, and I knew Wells could come back for Game 5, but we just couldn’t get there. That whole experience taught me how important it was to have your pitching set up—more important than winning the division. We were on fumes.”

Playing to the tune of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’,” the White Sox went on to beat the Angels and Astros (Chicago was 11–1 in the postseason), delivering a World Series winner to the Windy City for the first time since 1917.

There was no joy in Boston. The Red Sox simply had not been ready when the playoffs came around.

The day after it ended, a sleepy Saturday in Boston, players and coaches came to clean out their lockers. Francona didn’t have much packing to do. Jacque and the kids were all moved into their new home in Brookline. It would be nice to be close to his office during the winter for a change. He was planning on watching some of his girls’ volleyball games and scheduled a surgery for his right knee at Mass General.

He went to Fenway to fulfill media duties and say good-bye to a few of his players on the day after the final game. He was touched when Damon came into his office, closed the door, and presented him with a signed Red Sox jersey.

“I just think he was a special manager,” Damon said in 2012. “I didn’t know 100 percent that I wasn’t going to be back, but I had a good sense that it was the end, and I wanted to give him a pretty special thing.”

“That meant a lot,” said Francona. “I don’t save a lot of stuff, but I saved that. Johnny was not only tough, he was respectful. There were nights when he’d go home where he was beat to shit and I’d alert his backup. But he was so respectful, he’d come into my office when I was telling whomever, and he’d say that he’d call me in the morning and then I could call the player I had ready to play for him. And every night he would end up playing. I got a little nervous when he became a team spokesman, but he was so dependable. I loved him. He was good-hearted, and he grasped things better than people gave him credit for. He was the kind of guy who’d come back and check on me after I got thrown out of a game. He’d be like, ‘Hey, you okay?’ He always tried hard to do the right thing.”

Officially, Damon was still a member of the Red Sox. He was due to be a free agent at the conclusion of the World Series, but his gift to Francona on October 8 demonstrated his slight chances of re-signing with the Red Sox.