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Sunday, May 13, 2001

MILWAUKEE -- Players meetings and managerial pep talks have their place, but baseball players and coaches sometime will resort to anything to try to break out of a bad stretch -- even things that sound a bit wacky.

Lloyd McClendon and Bob Walk were talking the other day about a little ritual the Pirates of the early '90s performed once in San Diego to break a spell. At the behest of Mike LaValliere, every player in the clubhouse was asked to throw something into a pile in the middle of the locker room -- something special like a favorite T-shirt or a good luck charm.

After everybody contributed an item, the pile was set ablaze.

"It was a sacrificial burning, a little offering to the baseball gods," Walk said.

Granted, a ceremonial pyre doesn't translate to how guys perform between the lines. But it can help the mood when a string of losses causes players to withdraw within themselves.

"You know what that does? It gets all the players together for 10 minutes and eliminates all the little groups people get into," Walk said. "It was a way to have a little fun when things weren't going well."

Were the gods appeased?

"We won three divisions in a row. Something worked," Walk said.

Besides, it beats burning somebody at the stake.

Hurting to hit

If a hitter gets into a rut, he can always grab a bucket of baseballs and slam them off a tee or take extra batting practice as a way of venting frustrations.

But what's a manager to do? All he can do is write out a lineup and watch his players. He can't hit, field or throw for them, right?

Well, on the recent road trip to San Diego, McClendon was standing behind the batting cage in pregame warmups. He made an observation to whoever was at the plate that he could hit better than that, so the player told McClendon to get into the box and have at it.

"I did, but I paid for it," McClendon said. "I woke up the next morning with back spasms, and my back hurt for a week. I'll never do that again."

Picking the Astros

The Cubs have been the early surprise in the Central Division, but can they keep it up?

"That's the magic question," McClendon said last week.

He still thinks the team to beat is Houston.

"Starting pitching. Plus, they have an outstanding bullpen and an outstanding closer in Billy Wagner."

Not so easy

Among the players who influenced McClendon in his career was Buddy Bell, now the manager of the Rockies.

When Colorado was in Pittsburgh for a three-game set last weekend, the two managers had a little heart-to-heart talk.

"He's laughing at me now," McClendon said. "He said, 'See, I told you this stuff isn't easy.'"

A wrestler's mentality

There are plenty of different workouts that players use to keep in shape. Cardinals reliever Steve Kline, a native of Lewisburg, Pa., is sold on the regimen of wrestling -- not the WWF variety, but the sweat and grit shown on high school mats.

Last week in St. Louis, Kline could be seen on an 82-degree afternoon, in workout clothes and a hooded sweatshirt, running 3 miles around the rim of the upper deck and running up the Busch Stadium steps.

"Nothing gets you in better shape than the workouts done by wrestlers," he said. "I've never met anybody who works harder than wrestlers. It helps me maintain my weight."

Though he never wrestled in high school, Kline works in the off-season as an assistant coach at Lewisburg High School, where his good friend Bobby Ferraro is the coach.

And what do his teammates think?

"They think I'm nuts because I'm a left-hander. They call me Rocky -- among other things."

One for mom

Everybody knows Jason Kendall learned baseball from his father Fred, a former major-league catcher who is now a coach for the Colorado Rockies. But since this is Mother's Day, Kendall offered this little tribute to all the mothers who drive their kids to Little League games, give them encouragement and maybe even play some backyard catch.

Since Kendall's dad spent a lot of time on the road in the summers, it was his mother Patty who coached his T-ball team and got him started.

"Don't tell my dad, but I think I got 75 percent of my athletic ability from her. Her brother was an All-American pitcher at Stanford. She taught me how to throw. Heck, she throws a baseball better than I do.

"She was the one hitting me ground balls, being the T-Ball coach, playing catch. She used to whack balls at me. I'd be taking balls off my chest and neck. She wouldn't cut me any slack. I'm very fortunate to have two wonderful parents. I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for the support of those two. I owe them the world."

And one more thing.

"I'm a mamma's boy," Kendall said. "I have to call my mom every night. Lot of times it's just five seconds to say, 'Mom, I'm OK.' But if I don't call, she gets mad. She'll call me."