The Day After

The clothier finally gets dinner

Welcome to Warning Track Power, a weekly newsletter of baseball stories and analysis grounded in front office and scouting experiences and the personalities encountered along the way.

Last week’s post was a new subscriber bonanza, and I want to welcome those receiving WTP in their inboxes for the first time. Meanwhile, this marks at least the 100th edition for 129 of you. If we were Peloton, you’d be receiving your t-shirts in the mail any day now.

Thank you all for being part of the journey.

I got so caught up in playoff baseball that we completely missed commemorating the century mark. Number 100 landed a couple days before the NLCS got underway.

That series marked the Padres return to the NLCS for the first time since 1998. Of course, the team’s GM back then was Kevin Towers.

Given the influx of readers after last week’s oral history, I decided to revisit one of the conversations around it.

When I heard Ron Viggiano recount his evening with KT and the three managers, his tone — the wonderment — resonated. Before I ever worked for KT, he invited me into his world to play. Everyone in his circle was treated like a lifelong friend. Everyone was granted access.

Viggiano’s stories took me back to my earliest days around KT.

The following story picks up the day after the night that Bud Black, Bruce Bochy, and Kirk Gibson went over Towers’ apartment.

It was important to Viggiano that he share this story with me:

The next night, KT says, “What are you doing?”

I said, “Oh, I’m just hanging out at the hotel.”

He goes, “I’m taking all my interns out for dinner tonight. Why don’t you join us?” And so he picks me up at the hotel, and we begin driving to the restaurant.

Then he says, “I hate to do this, but I’ve got to let somebody go. And this is, this is, one of the harder parts of the business, Ronnie. So just stay here in the car, we’ll drive to the restaurant. Be quiet. But I just want to let you know, I’ve gotta let one of the guys go.”

And I proceed to listen to a 10-minute conversation with him letting a third- or fourth-string catcher go. And him telling the catcher: “I’ve spoken to manager so-and-so, and I’ve spoken to this other manager, and they’re looking for a guy like you. I’ve already put a good word in for you. I’m sorry; it’s a numbers game. You know, I wish I didn't have to do this.”

And it was just really interesting. And again, fly on the wall. I’m in the car of the GM of the Diamondbacks, right? And I’m listening to him let go of a player in Spring Training.

For him to let me in on that? You just don’t get that kind of exposure, you know.

It’s another one of the things that I remember as much as that night drinking wine with the guys. It was such a human and touching 10 minutes, listening to him delicately have to tell someone this.

When he got off the phone, then he had the conversation with me. Like, “That’s the only part of this job that really sucks, you know, because this is his livelihood. He’s got a wife, he’s got two kids. And I’ve got to tell him it’s just not going to work out here, but I tried to open some doors at some other places. Maybe there are some opportunities there… And sometimes I have to tell them maybe this isn’t it. Maybe you’ve just got to look in a different direction.”

That was really something. It was a very touching, real conversation.

Viggiano, it should be noted, is still searching for the piece of paper on which he wrote down all the bottles of wine that were consumed the night before at KT’s place.