In the End, It Just Was Not Meant to Be

Now we see that the California Angels are a team of destiny after all.

Unfortunately for the ballclub and its fans, the Angels’ destiny appears to be to wander in the wilderness for an indeterminate number of decades, never finding their way to a World Series.

What better manager for this team, then, than Gene Mauch, a veteran wanderer in the same wilderness?

This time it was the Boston Red Sox who sent the Angels and Mauch out into the cold, winning the seventh game of the league championship series, 8-1, Wednesday night at Fenway Park.

The loss left Mauch stunned. A half-hour after the game, he allowed a team PR man to open the door of his office in the visitors’ clubhouse, and room filled with reporters.

Mauch stood behind his desk, still in his uniform. He spoke deliberately, as if reading a prepared statement, as if trying to maintain his composure.

“Not a hell of a lot to say,” he said, quietly but clearly. “I hurt like hell, I hurt like hell for those players. I hurt like hell for Gene Autry. Those players laid their heart out there, it got stepped on.”

Mauch paused.

“Eight months of hard work. Eight months of hard work.”

He sighed.

“We feel like we got the job done, it just got away.”

What would he do now, someone asked. What would Mauch do when he left the ballpark?

“My situation,” Mauch said, showing anger, “is something a lot of the media obviously enjoys, so I’ll let them take care of that. They wonder what I’ll do, what I feel.”

Indeed they do. Because of his history in the game (25 years of managing, mostly bad teams, without getting to the World Series), because of his ultra-intense approach to the game of baseball, because of his often stern demeanor and because many consider him a baseball genius, Mauch is an inviting target for the amateur psychoanalysts of the media.

He swats them away like pesky flies.

“So many guys have tried to get in here,” Mauch said, tapping his forehead, Tuesday afternoon during an informal interview. “If they got in there, they wouldn’t know what they were dealing with.”

Probably not, but Mauch’s career is an open book, subject to inspection, reflection and criticism. The famous fades, folds and near-misses are there in black and white.

His strategy is fodder for endless debate, especially his handling of pitchers. In Sunday’s Game 5, Mauch yanked his star pitcher, Mike Witt, with two strikes and two out in the ninth inning.

The Red Sox then lit up the Angel bullpen like a Christmas tree. There were those who defended Mauch’s strategy of taking out a tired righthander and bringing in a fresh lefthander.

The Red Sox players, however, said publicly they considered the pitching change a wondrous gift, a terrible bit of strategy that gave them a new life and, eventually, a trip to the World Series.

In Tuesday’s Game 6, Mauch left starter Kirk McCaskill in the game long after it was apparent to many that he was wild and could be hit.

In Wednesday’s Game 7, after a 1-2-3 first inning, Mauch stayed with starter John Candelaria through two and two-thirds more innings, very rocky innings. The seven runs Candelaria gave up were unearned, to be sure, but he wasn’t chinked to death. The Sox were smacking the ball.

Why didn’t Mauch remove Candelaria in the fourth inning after he struck out Wade Boggs, bringing up the Sox righthanded hitters? Candelaria stayed and gave up a walk and a three-run homer to Jim Rice, a game-breaker, a heartbreaker.

These are points that Angel fans and baseball fans will kick around all winter, and beyond. Mauch will be second-guessed and the Angels will be criticized.

But did they blow it, or was it destiny? After all, is Mauch to blame for Wally Joyner’s mysterious ailment? Is Mauch to blame for two of his three best pitchers falling apart in the last two games of the season?

Is Mauch to blame for a Sox first base coach accidentally decoying an Angel first baseman into a three-run throwing error? Is Mauch to blame for balls lost in the sun, a third base coach who forgot a stop sign?

Can Mauch be blamed for an ankle injury to Boston centerfielder Tony Armas, an injury that turned the series around when Armas’ replacement hit one of the most surprising home runs in recent baseball history?

How could Mauch have known Marty Barrett would turn into Honus Wagner, or Gary Pettis would lose his golden touch on closing night?

For those who were skeptical of an Angel jinx, the theme now must be, “You gotta believe.”

So for Mauch, along with the second-guessing there will be an outpouring of sympathy. A lot of people wanted Mauch to win, wanted the Angels to win because 25 years of waiting is enough for any guy, and Mauch is perceived by most as a decent and dedicated sort.

I’m just guessing, but I don’t think Mauch wants sympathy.

Wednesday night, though, it was hard not to feel a little compassion for a man who worked so hard and came so close.

Someone asked Mauch if he would consider retiring.

“You think that would be a good idea?” he asked. “I haven’t thought about anything but how much it hurts.”

Mauch had been so sure. The day before, Tuesday, he had talked about past Angel teams that were picked to be lousy and had challenged for the pennant.

“We’re constantly picked to finish down (in the standings), then we do a lot,” Mauch said. “And this time it’s going to be enough.”

An hour after Wednesday’s game, Mauch--who can talk baseball for hours, days, forever--was talked out. He was dressed in a sport coat and red sweater and tie but he still wore the expression of a man who had just received some very bad news.

“There’s no use in discussing a game like this when you get beat this bad,” he said, solemnly.

What could he say?

“That’s it, boys,” Mauch said, finally, “That’s it. Nothing else to say.”