This Turnaround Calls for More Than a Pat on Back

Riiinnnnggggggg!!!!

“Hello, this is Sports Gab. You’re on with Harry Host and Padre Manager Larry Bowa.”

“Hi, Harry and Larry! This is Dauntless Dave.”

Host: “What can we do for you Dauntless?”

Dauntless: “Nothing really. I wanted to do something for Larry.”

Larry: “Oh?”

Dauntless: “I heard that Joan Kroc called Chub Feeney when he was a guest on a talk show Monday and invited him to return as club president for the 1988 season.”

Host: “Sure enough. Caught everyone off-guard, but it wasn’t really a surprise. Everyone knew she wanted Chub back.”

Dauntless: “Maybe that’s my point. I’ve been listening to this show, hoping maybe Joan would call Larry. No one knows whether she wants him back.”

Host: “Joan hasn’t called. Maybe we should get off the line . . . “

Dauntless: “No need. That’s why I’m calling. I got tired of waiting for Joan, so I decided I’d call and invite Larry back for the 1988 season.”

Host, laughing: “I’m sure Larry is going to sleep much more comfortably tonight, Dauntless. Thanks for the call.”

Click . . .

Larry Bowa was standing hatless next to the batting cage, watching his Padres take batting practice before Monday night’s game against the Atlanta Braves. He is only 41, but the kids scampering in and out of the cage had threatened to turn him old and gray in April and May.

“I wouldn’t wish April and May on my worst enemy,” he said.

Indeed, through those excruciating opening months, it was feared that Bowa’s worst enemy might be himself. Bowa, you see, has this reputation for a volcanic temperament, and a 12-42 record over the first two months of the season was surely enough to create fissures in his psyche.

Those Padres were the stuff of which legends are made, but not the legends anyone wants to become. Folks were talking about the 1962 Mets, and wondering if Bret Saberhagen would win 20 games before our local buffoons did.

As Bowa watched his team Monday night, it was a different team. Many of the faces were the same, or even younger, but this was a different club.

Since the games of June 4, no one in the National League West is close to the Padres. Monday night’s victory, their sixth in a row, gave them a 33-25 record since that woeful start. Houston, in that span, was 5 games in arrears and Cincinnati and San Francisco were 5 1/2. In a way, what the Padres have done under Bowa is reminiscent of what the Triple-A Las Vegas Stars did under his direction a year ago. In third place the first half of the season with a 36-34 record, the Stars were 44-28 for the second half and ultimately won the Pacific Coast League championship.

These Padres are not going to do anything so miraculous as win the NL West, but they have established a solid foundation of young players who have battled through adversity and gained respectability.

“These kids,” Bowa said, “have gone from thinking they can play to the next level. Now they say, ‘I can play. Day in and day out, I can play.’ ”

And, day in and day out, Larry Bowa can manage.

“People tell me I’m making great moves,” he said, “but I’m making the same moves now that I did in April. When the guys execute and the pitchers get people out, you win games.”

Obviously, the players have improved. They have held together or been held together, and built a positive feeling not only for what remains of this year but also for the fresh start of next spring.

However, Bowa says he is not thinking of next spring.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, “this is my last year. No one’s told me anything else. My contract is up Oct. 5. I’m going to worry about today, not tomorrow.”

Of course, he doesn’t really want this to be his last year.

“I’d love to come back,” he said. “I really think we’re headed in the right direction. I’m glad we have all these kids. They’re much better now than they were in April and they’ll be much better in October than they are now. We’ll be much better in spring training before we throw a pitch.”

We? Spring training?

OK, he slipped. He is thinking of next year, even if next year is just a little beyond his control.

Riiinnnnnggggg!

“Hi, Dave. This is Joan Kroc.”

She doesn’t call me Dauntless, but it was nice of her to call me. . . . And this was a genuine call. I asked her about calling a talk show to ask Chub Feeney to return in 1988.

“That was fun,” she said, “but, you know, I really just wanted to give the community an indication of the tremendous confidence I have in Chub.”

How about Larry Bowa?

“I adore him,” Kroc said. “I’ve always felt good about him, even at the beginning of the season. He handled a lot of bad times with dignity . . . oh, and maybe with a little bit of temper. Larry’s come a long, long way and he’s going to go a long, long way.”

But what about Larry Bowa and next year?

“My hope would be that Larry would be with us,” she said, “but you have to make it clear that it’s not my decision. Chub’s going to make that decision, Chub and Jack McKeon. That’s a baseball decision and those are my baseball men.”

Riiinnnngggg!

I am sure Feeney was asked about Bowa on the talk show, but I wasn’t tuned in. So I called him at his office.

“My feeling,” Feeney said, “is that you sign a manager for the year and then renew him toward the end of the season. It keeps things in perspective to do it the same way every year. It saves a lot of speculation about managers.”

Dauntless to the end, I suggested that maybe it might be appropriate to define Bowa’s status a bit earlier in light of how this season has gone. You know, give the manager and his players a feeling of sustained togetherness.

“We might do that,” Feeney said, “but there are still six weeks . . . more than six weeks . . . to play.”

Caution is the domain of the club president. Unabashed affection falls within the province of the owner. Anxiety is a way of life with the manager.

And unsolicited opinions are the curse (or cause) of the sportswriter.

Give the man more than a pat on the back. Give him a contract for 1988.