Everyone Knew the Ending to Padres’ Mystery

As if “Jeopardy” was the game being played, the Padres provided the answer Tuesday.

Larry Bowa.

However, everyone knew the question.

Who would replace Steve Boros as manager?

This was not what might be called a shocking revelation. With an abundance of questions confronting them in the 1986-87 off-season, the Padres provided the one answer everyone already had.

Larry Bowa would be the manager.

Anyone who did not know this before the press conference probably wonders if George Bush, Jack Kemp, Peter Ueberroth and Steve Garvey are going to someday run for president. This news was old.

“It’s nice to see all you guys, ladies and gentlemen,” General Manager Jack McKeon started. “I know you’ve all been anxious for the decision. Now it’s known.”

The only problem was that all us guys, ladies and gentlemen, already knew the decision. It wasn’t exactly as big a secret as the real color of Ronald Reagan’s hair.

Most folks were in attendance to learn why this decision had been made, and who was this fellow Bowa other than a shortstop who made a nuisance of himself for 16 years?

I’ll tell you why the decision was made. I got it straight from McKeon.

“We decided to make a change,” he said, “in the best interests of the organization.”

This was reassuring. The Padres have done some daring things in their past, and I was afraid they would aspire to be the first to make a managerial change in the worst interests of the organization.

I did learn some things about Larry Bowa. He is knowledgeable, dedicated, competitive and aggressive. He will ask that his players give 100% until the last out and he will stress fundamentals. This man hates to lose.

To my recollection, the Padres had not hired a manager with such traits since they hired Mr. Boros last spring. Before that, such a man had not been hired since Dick Williams. Before that, since Frank Howard. Before that, Jerry Coleman. Before that, Roger Craig.

And the beat goes on.

In hiring Larry Bowa, the Padres have done something a little different than in the past. They have hired an individual who played so recently that his last uniform--New York Mets, ‘85--isn’t back yet from the cleaners.

They have hired coaches to manage and minor league managers to manage and even broadcasters to manage, but this time they’re hiring a guy one year removed from actually playing the game. This could well work to Bowa’s advantage, because many of the guys in his command will be able to remember that he was successful doing things the way he is demanding that things get done. He turned average talent into 2,191 career hits.

“I hate to lose,” Bowa said. “I don’t even like to lose at Scrabble with my wife.”

Damn, he hates to lose.

“That,” said McKeon, “is one feisty little rascal.”

Umpires will learn of this feistiness. When he managed the Padres’ farm club in Las Vegas this year, he was run out of a number of games faster than a rube can drop $20 at the craps table.

“Don’t expect me not to get thrown out of a few games,” he said. “Don’t expect me to be a choirboy. I’m not saying I’m going to get thrown out of 50 games, but I’m going to stand up for my players.”

This brings us to an interesting question, one that no one in this organization is yet addressing.

Who will be Larry Bowa’s players?

Who will be playing for the Padres in 1987?

“With a little help in the winter,” Bowa said, “we can be very competitive. . . . This is not a fourth-place team.”

Jack McKeon’s job will be to provide that help. It will be his chore to assess the talent available and make trades. The free-agent market will be the province of ownership.

The Padres’ chances of helping themselves with free agents would seem to be inhibited by their stance that they will offer nothing longer than one-year contracts.

“I don’t know what the policy is,” Bowa said. “We haven’t talked about that. Maybe they’re tired of watching guys go through the motion with five-year contracts.”

McKeon indicated that the one-year limit is intact, to his knowledge. Joan Kroc, who happens to own the club and dispense the money, is as difficult to contact as Gorbachev. My messages to her must be carpeted with rather plush layers of dust.

Thus, it would appear that the Padres will have to find whatever help they can find in the trade market . . . or Larry Bowa will be wrong. It won’t be a fourth-place club. It will be worse.

“We’re going to trade first,” McKeon said. “We can’t sit back and wait for free agents. That’s a crap shoot. Free agents, to me, are bonuses, not key people.”

Steve Garvey? Rich Gossage?

OK, forget free agents. Get what key people?

“I want to get a third baseman, an outfielder with speed or power, preferably speed, and a stronger bench,” McKeon said. “By bench, I don’t mean specialists. I want bench players who can go in and do a job, force the regulars to do a better job.”

Jack McKeon has a mischievous streak. He had an idea that would have turned the press conference into a surprise rather than a formality. It would have added considerable spice to the afternoon.

“I was hoping to call a press conference, announce a trade and then let you all go,” he said. “I thought I had a pretty good thing going yesterday with one club. I think I could have made it, but had to put it on hold.”

That would have been something.

The media gathered to meet Larry Bowa, and suddenly McKeon announces he has traded Tony Gwynn for Wade Boggs.

Suddenly, someone would call from behind the bright television lights: “Forget that, Jack. We’re not here for a stupid trade. We’re here for your surprise announcement. Where’s Larry Bowa?”