Life as an Angel Is a Joke to Former Managers

The annual meeting of the Fired Managers of the California Angels Assn. is in session. A group of middle-aged men are sitting in rocking chairs, gathered around a large television screen, watching the Angels play the Detroit Tigers.

Some of them laugh. Others curse. A couple shoot spit wads at the screen.

All of sudden, there’s a knock on the door.

Cookie Rojas: “Hey, that must be Buck.”

Doug Rader: “Well, how about that. Let’s hear it for Cookie Bleeping Rojas, Rocket Scientist. Of course it’s Buck, fungo head. Who else is it gonna be? Marcel Lachemann?”

The room falls silent.

Rader: “Naw. No way. You guys are crazy if you think . . . “

Dave Garcia: “You never know. There’s a Bavasi in charge.”

Rader: “But it hasn’t been a week.”

Moose Stubing: “I only lasted eight games.”

Rader: “Yeah. And how many did you win?”

Stubing: “Um, none.”

Rader: “Well, there you go.”

Jim Fregosi: “Moose, what the hell are you doing here? You know the rules: No interim guys allowed.”

Stubing: “They hired me to tend bar this year.”

Fregosi: “Oh good. I’ll have a V.O. and 7, Moose.”

Stubing: “I was 0 and 8.”

Dick Williams: “We know, we know.”

Bill Rigney: “I’ll have a sherry.”

Norm Sherry: “Somebody call me?”

There’s another knock on the door.

Bobby Winkles: “Will somebody get that already?”

Rader: “Yeah. But let’s make him say the password, OK?”

Fregosi: “Oh, this’ll be great. I love this part.”

Rader and Fregosi tip-toe to the door and crouch beneath the peephole.

Rader (calling out): “What’s the secret password?”

Voice from the other side of the door: “C’mon, you guys. Let me in. You know who it is.”

Fregosi: “Not until you say the secret password.”

Voice from the other side of the door (sighs): “I can’t bleeping believe this. . . . Oh, all right. ‘I Wanted This Job For Only One Reason--To Win One For The Cowboy.’ ”

Rader: “Hee, hee, hee. That always slays me. . . . OK, let him in.”

Fregosi (opening the door): “Why, Buck. What a surprise. What kept you so long?”

Buck Rodgers: “Everybody’s a wise guy. Don’t you have a game to manage or something?”

Fregosi: “Not today. We’re idle.”

Rodgers: “I know. I’ve seen the standings.”

Williams: “Come on in, Buck. Man, I haven’t seen you since the annual meeting of the Fired Managers of the Montreal Expos Assn. What you been up to, big guy?”

Rodgers: “Aw, you know. Trying to find a cure for cancer.”

The room erupts in laughter.

Rader: “So we’ve heard. Which reminds me. The guys chipped in and got you this. It’s nothing, really.”

Rodgers: “It’s a blank piece of paper.”

Rader: “I know, I know. Now look on the other side.”

Rodgers (reading aloud): “ ‘Everything I Know About The Game Of Baseball. By Richard Brown.’ ”

Rader: “Hee, hee, hee. Isn’t that great?”

Rojas: “Mike Port helped us with that one.”

Rigney: “Have a seat, Buck. We’ve got the game on the big screen, Moose is mixing drinks, we’re just getting started.”

Rodgers: “Who’s winning?”

Winkles: “We are.”

Sherry: “You mean they are.”

Rojas: “Angels, 1-0. Langston’s pitching a helluva game.”

Williams: “Criminy. I still can’t believe it. That weenie has a job, Buck, and you and I don’t.”

Rodgers: “Baseball’s a funny game, Dick.”

Williams: “Ain’t that the truth. . . . Oh, sorry, Buck. Sore subject, I know.”

Rodgers: “Why do you have that huge photo of Gene Mauch hanging over the fireplace?”

Rader: “He’s our hero. Did two tours of duty, lived to tell about it, was never fired. Resigned both times. Went out on his own terms.”

Rodgers: “Wow.”

Rojas: “He won two division titles, too. And lasted 711 games, more than anyone here except Rigs. And, he recommended me to replace him in 1988.”

Fregosi: “Two out of three ain’t bad, Cookie.”

Rigney: “OK, you guys. Everybody’s here. Time for ‘What’s My Crime?’ ”

Rader: “Oh good. I love this part.”

Rigney: “We do this every year, Buck. It’s always a hoot. We go around the room, and every guy has to give the quote-unquote ‘reason’ he was fired. OK, Buck, we’ll start with you.”

Rodgers: “ ‘Too honest.’ ”

Rader: “ ‘Too stubborn.’ ‘

Winkles: “ ‘Too nice.’ ”

Williams: “ ‘Too tough.’ ”

Sherry: “ ‘Too nice.’ ”

Fregosi: “ ‘Too tough.’ ”

Garcia: “ ‘Too nice.’ ”

Rojas: “ ‘Two trips to the mound in the same inning without realizing it.’ ”

The room erupts in laughter.

Rader: “I still can’t believe that one. Way to go, Cookie.”

Stubing: “He also let one game start with only eight guys on the field. Devon White was on the phone in the clubhouse. Mike Witt threw the first pitch before he realized he had no center fielder.”

Rodgers: “How many games you last, Cookie?”

Rojas: “154. Hey, that’s more than Sherry. Garcia, too. So get off my back.”

Rigney: “OK. OK. How many guys here were fired by a Bavasi?”

Garcia: “I was!”

Fregosi: “I was!”

Rodgers: “I was!”

Rader: “Hee, hee, hee. I love these meetings.”

Rodgers: “You know, you really got to change that password. Win One For The Cowboy? Hell, the Cowboy claims he didn’t even know he fired me. I got the ax on a Tuesday, Cowboy says he didn’t find out until Wednesday.”

Rader: “He always says that. It’s never his decision. You ought to know that by now.”

Rodgers: “But, he said I was like a son to him.”

Fregosi: “He said the same thing about me. And I won a division title for him. The first one he ever had. Eighteen months later, I’m outta there. History.”

Rodgers: “Poor Lach.”

Rigney: “That reminds me. Moose, we need to order another rocking chair.”

Stubing: “How soon?”

Rigney: “Hmmm. How long did you last, Buck?

Rodgers: “2 1/2 seasons.”

Rigney: “And you, Doug?”

Rader: “2 1/2 seasons.”

Rigney: “August, 1997, ought to do it then. You can practically set your watch to those bozos.”

Rojas: “I sure hope Lach knows about that too-many-trips-to-the-mound rule. Maybe I better give him a call.”