5.5.01 CHICAGO CUBS vs LOS ANGELES DODGERS
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Twenty-one-year-old Jose Nuñez was a talented young lefthander acquired by the Dodgers from the New York Mets in the 2000 Rule 5 draft, which meant that he had to remain on the Dodgers’ 25-man roster for the duration of the 2001 season or be offered back to the Mets for the not-so-princely sum of $25,000. Twenty-one-year-old Jose Nuñez distinguished himself last year with a 112–23 strikeout-to-walk ratio and a 3.02 ERA in 95 innings, most of them in relief, with the Class A Capital City (that’d be Columbia, South Carolina) Bombers. Unfortunately, 21-year-old Jose Nuñez had absolutely no business pitching in the major leagues, let alone taking up a roster spot on a team with a $110 million payroll and postseason aspirations. But that’s what Kevin Malone will do for a guy’s career.
Day two of our weekend at Wrigley saw Darren Dreifort on the mound for Los Angeles and Julian Tavarez, recently in the news for his allegation that fans in San Francisco “are a bunch of assholes and faggots,” pitching for the Cubs. (He couldn’t just say assholes and quit while he was ahead?) It was clear from the outset that Dreifort didn’t have his best stuff, but he managed to get through the first three innings giving up only a couple of hits. Tavarez, meanwhile, was cruising, aided somewhat by the mysteriously elastic strike zone of plate umpire Brian Runge. The only pitch Runge called consistently, it seemed, was a slider a full foot off the outside corner that Tavarez used to ring up Gary Sheffield, twice.
It was still a ballgame even after Dreifort had given up two-run homers in the fourth to both Sammy Sosa and Todd Hundley, the first after having struck out Sammy looking with the exact same pitch Tavarez had used on Sheffield, this time called a ball by that dickhead Runge. Dreifort soldiered on, and the Dodgers got a run back in the sixth to make it 4–1. It was only when Terry Adams came on in relief in the seventh that the wheels came off, and the Dodgers before our unbelieving eyes morphed into the Rochester Red Wings.
Adams had been knocked around a bit two nights earlier in Cincinnati, and this afternoon it looked like he didn’t quite know what’d hit him. Of course, what had hit him was two thirds of the Chicago Cubs line-up, starting with the awful Damon Buford (single, first pitch), and quickly followed by Ron Coomer (a generously-scored infield single, after the ball had been thrown away by Alex Cora), Eric Young (RBI single), Ricky Gutierrez (sac bunt, after two unsuccessful attempts at same in earlier at-bats, prompting the guys behind us to yell this time, “Move ’em over, stupid!”—not a lot of love for Ricky Gutierrez around here, it seems), Bill Mueller (2-RBI single), Sosa (RBI single), and Rondell White (RBI single).
So now it was 9–1. Game over, pretty much. Bullpen spent. Time to go to the Rule 5 guy.
It will be forgotten that Nuñez actually got off to a pretty good start. Before Julio Zuleta’s three-run homer—one mistake, and two more runs charged to Adams, so whatever—he struck out Hundley swinging, and afterwards came right back and fanned Buford and Coomer to end the inning.
Even when he came back out for the eighth, and I resigned myself to the prospect of still more abuse, Nuñez got Augie Ojeda swinging too. Five batters faced, one home run, four strikeouts. The kid’s not doing so bad, right? That’s when the trouble started. Gutierrez, a double. Mueller, a walk on four pitches. Sosa bounces a nubber up the third-base line which Nunez fields and fires into the Dodger dugout, allowing a run. Gary Matthews, Jr., a walk on four pitches. Oh, this is getting ugly. Bases loaded, one out, 13–1. Todd Hundley, again; goes down swinging, again. Okay, two down. C’mon, Jose buddy. Hang in there, Jose. Cubs reliever, Courtney Duncan, a walk on four pitches. Fourteen–one now. Buford, single up the middle. Sixteen–one. Karros walks over, says something to Nuñez, pats him on the butt. Coomer, a blooper to shallow right, bases loaded again. Ojeda—yes, we’ve batted around now—a bouncer to third, misplayed by Dave Hansen, another wayward throw to first, everyone safe, two runs in. Eighteen–one.
Cubs fans now chanting, “We want 20!” No one warming up in the Dodgers’ bullpen. For chrissakes, Tracy, I’m thinking, get him outta there. I mean, the guy’s gonna have to come back here and pitch again someday, you know? Send anyone out there…Grissom, Bocachica, whoever…it’s one freaking out! Gutierrez, a rope to right, bouncing in front of Shawn Green. Nineteen–one.
“We want 20!”
Still nothing going on in the pen. Mueller, a walk. Bases loaded, again. Sammy at the plate. Crowd going absolutely apeshit. Thirty-eight thousand, 468 people—the biggest turnout of the year—and no one’s gone home. Sosa works the count to 3-and-1 and then just crushes the next pitch, the ball trailing smoke and debris as it curves just foul and disappears out of sight onto Waverly. The crowd emits a collective keee-rissssst. The next pitch is ball four. It’s 20–1.
Finally Tracy goes to the mound and collects the shattered remains of his once-promising young lefthander. Utility infielder Chris Donnells gets Matthews to ground out to end the inning. It is the most lopsided loss in Los Angeles Dodger history. Three days later Nuñez will be designated for assignment.
FINAL SCORE: CUBS 20, DODGERS 1
FOOD CONSUMED: A regular hot dog this time, just out of curiosity (not as good as the Chicago dog), some excellent fries, a Coke.