[Jazzmosis]

Chapter 17: The James Vasser Files


Look was so excited for his first All-Star Game appearance, that he called almost everyone he knew. He bought over 40 tickets, inviting all of his family, his friends, and even his neighbours. When it was all said and done, he had spent well over four thousand dollars. He invited me, but I graciously declined. For me, the All-Star Game was a time to go home and relax. The game was in Tampa Bay. I didn’t want to go near Florida anymore - I had left a lot of bad memories there. I would usually meet with the coaches and discuss lineups and the pitching staff, but that was always near the end of the break.

I watched the game on TV, however. Dominic Rodriguez went 1-3 with a double, but didn’t do much. Giichi pitched two innings (4th and 5th), striking out two and walking one. And in the 8th, Christopher Look stepped onto the mound. He pitched flawlessly, striking out one on the way. However, for the second year in a row, the AL won. The final score was 2-1.


On the last day of my break, I finally caved and asked Caroline out. She accepted. . . unfortunately. I kicked myself over that one afterwards because I still didn’t know what I saw in her. We had been talking for awhile and had spent a little bit of time together, but never without her aggravating friends tagging along. She was in the middle of her ‘summer’ job, and getting ready for her first year of college in Chicago. Her job wasn’t much of one, since she was afraid to do anything that may get her dirty but hated to anything boring like filing. So she babysat. It didn’t make enough money to get her into college, but her parents were very wealthy, and if she needed something, she got it. It explained why she bought a new outfit every week. And she always wanted to go shopping with me. Whenever I gave up and agreed, we would be there for hours. Hours. And she’d always find her friends just ‘coincidentally’ shopping at the same time. Fortunately, I had baseball as a gigantic excuse/distraction to avoid her. Don’t get me wrong - she was nice, and had some smarts - she wasn’t completely unbearable.


The month started out poorly for the Diamondbacks, as we dropped our first 8 of 10 and slipped to fourth place. San Diego was red-hot and had streaked to within a game of San Francisco. Meanwhile, Colorado sat two games back while we floundered, falling to six behind by the July 12th. Things got worse. That night, James Vasser was scheduled to make his second career start, and he was letting everyone know that it would be a gem.

“Hey, Harly!” He called down the clubhouse hallway. I was in another room, but could hear everything.

“It’s Harland, rookie.” Morales shouted back.

“I’m feeling a gem coming tonight!”

“Good.”

“Not good, great! This is just the start, so long as you ass-bags don’t field like **** again,” Vasser bellowed arrogantly. Everyone could hear him, and he knew it.

“Shut up, rookie.” Morales called back.

“Jesus man, I hope you’re not playing third tonight, cause your fielding blows, man!” Vasser was obviously trying to push buttons at this point. I got up, and opened the door to see James strutting confidently and shirtless down the hallway.

Morales stood near the change-room door, and a few other players were coming out to see what JV was spewing this time. Santos Moya, my most trusted reliever, Hennessey, and Antonio Moreno were the first out the door.

“Oh, Maury!” Vasser called. That was his pet name for Moreno. “Do me a favour and catch the ball at first tonight!”

“Are you asking to get your ass kicked, rook?” Hennessey yelled. He was used to Vasser’s jackass-like nature, as they had both played in AAA earlier in the year. I had heard rumours from Ben Sizer (the only other callup so far in the year) that Scott had already decked James back in Wichita, AAA’s home city.

“Shut up, Scott. I’ve taken you before, I’ll do it again!” Vasser yelled.

Morales took a step forward, but Moreno put his hand on Harland’s shoulder. “He’s not worth it.” Antonio whispered. “Just let him run his mouth.”

Let me get one thing clear - James Vasser was not a tall, muscular ball player. He stood at 5"11 and 180 pounds. He was similar to Hennessey, who was 6"1 and 190. However, the powerhouse of the group before him was Santos Moya, who had yet to say anything. Moya could crush beer cans on his forehead (he sometimes did that to impress Latino girls at bars) and stood 6"3 and a whopping 222 pounds of pure muscle. The only two players that outweighed him were Yong Renick (235) and David Baeza (230), who also stood the tallest at 6"6. Just for reference, the thinnest guy was Ronnie Fleisher at 165 pounds and 6"2.

James Vasser reminded me of those small kids from high school that disturb the piece and start fights to assert their manhood. I suppose it was because they felt inferior because of their size. Vasser wasn’t sort by society’s standard, but he was one of the smallest on the club.

All of that was on the backburner in my mind, as I was currently wondering where the hell the other coaches were, not to mention security. I found out later that the coaches were talking with Eastwood upstairs. I had to handle this myself.

Vasser continued to heckle.“**** Scott, you wonder why a 30 year old man was in AAA? Cause he sucks! Were you called up when you were 22? **** no, cause you’re not a talent like me.”

“**** you, Vasser. The only reason you’re up here is cause there’s nobody else to take #5. If you are so good, why the **** are you the fifth starter?” Hennessey yelled back. Things were going to get ugly soon. James Vasser against 24 Diamondbacks? It wouldn’t surprise me.

More players were filling the halls. Daniel Armendariz, Ken Giichi, Michael Gongora, even Yorikazu was checking the situation out as his translator rambled everything that was being said. Don’t know why you would bother.

Aaron Delph stepped out from a different room. “Jesus Christ people, shut the **** up!”

Voices started yelling back and forth, and Hennessey looked ready to club Vasser. I stood watching everything, hoping it would die down. There was no way I could stop Hennessey and Vasser - maybe one, but not both.

Finally, all hell broke loose - between my own team - for the second year in a row. Hennessey rushed JV, and tackled him. Vasser somehow parried the attack and stayed on his feet, and the fists started flying. Everyone in the hallway, myself included, rushed to separate the two. Moya grabbed Vasser and pulled him off Hennessey, while Gongora and Yorikazu’s translator held Scott back.

Vasser wasn’t done. James turned and decked Moya directly in the nose, getting him to release his grip. He then ran and did a flying kick into Hennessey’s stomach, knocking all three of them to the ground. For such a loudmouth, Vasser sure could give as good as he got. Armendariz and D-Rod both sent punches at Vasser, only to have him duck one and deflect the second. He then landed a flurry of punches on both D-Rod and Daniel and dropped them to their knees. I found out later that James was a black belt of karate. Yong Renick and Baeza both rushed JV, but failed. Blood was being spilt - none of which belonged to James. Many of the players lay on the ground, stunned and hurt, and other players started to back off. They were coming to the realization that Vasser was more skilled then they were. I had never seen so many men fended off by one person before, but I knew what I had to do. I had taken karate all throughout my youth, and was a brown belt. I hadn’t practised in nearly a year, but nobody else could stop Vasser, who was still attacking.

“Vasser!” I yelled as loud as I could.

He stopped, turned and looked at me. “You want some too, skip?” He smirked arrogantly.

“Someone, get security and medical help. Fast. And get some of these guys off the floor.” I waved my hand, and saw a few of the players rush off. Others that were attending to the hurt started to drag them out of the way. “James, I’m giving you one chance and one chance only. What you’ve done here could be considered assault. Either go tell Eastwood what you’ve done, or I’ll be forced to deal with you myself. And you don’t want that.”

I couldn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth. When it came down to a real fight, I’d always shied away. I had one advantage in this situation, however - James didn’t know I could fight.

“Skip, Scotty attacked me first. I acted in self defence!” He replied.

I thought about it, and he was right. The players had attacked him first, except Moya. “I don’t care. You decked Moya, kicked Hennessey when he was being restrained, and have kicked the living **** out of most of the guys. All because you ran your mouth. I will not have this kind of atmosphere in my clubhouse.”

“****, Skip. . . maybe if you played me more like I deserve this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Bull****,” I yelled back. “I play you as you deserve, just like every other player here. I’m not going to give you special treatment.”

“Fine, Skip.” Vasser turned and drilled Scott Hennessey in the stomach - again. He wasn’t even doing anything that time. “****er.”

That was the last straw. I dropped my lineups sheet and rushed Vasser, who turned and stopped my punch. He and I went at it, trying to hit each other but constantly blocking our blows. Finally, after nearly a minute of fighting, all the players watching silently, I caught one of his punches. It hit me in the face, but I managed to grab his wrist with my hand and twist. He fell to the ground, as I held his arm high.

The security came through the doors along with paramedics. I stood there, James caught under my grip, my foot on his shoulder, hand holding his left wrist. “I’ll break your arm, so help me, James. And you need it to pitch. . .” I looked at the security officers. “You have cuffs or something?”

“Yeah.” One replied.

“Good. Cuff him, and take him to Eastwood’s office. He’ll deal with him there. Hennessey, when you’re fine again, you go too. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Vasser was cuffed and hauled to Eastwood to explain the situation. Medics attended to Moya, Armendariz, D-Rod, Renick, Baeza, Delph, and Gongora. JV had knocked a lot of guys around. Luckily, none were seriously injured. Moya had a gigantic bruise on his face, and others were cut and bruised themselves. I was no exception. I don’t know what surprised me more - the fact that Vasser had taken on so many players at once, or that I had beat him. I received many, many thanks from the players when I returned from Eastwood’s office.

Hennessey and Vasser both received team fines of a whopping 100 thousand dollars for player misconduct, which was an agreement for them to not get suspended by the front office. Eastwood told everyone later on to keep the ordeal quiet, but given the amount of bruises that were visible, the media eventually got a story out of it. Vasser was fined again by the MLPA for 30 thousand, and the MLB suspended Hennessey for two games for inciting the riot. The Diamondbacks were the laughingstock of baseball for a few weeks and many newspapers and television stations tried to get their hands on the security camera footage, but Eastwood and Concardian pulled some strings to keep that out of media hands.

The month didn’t go smoothly, as we had wounds to heal as individuals and as a team. Our play suffered, and we struggled to stay with San Francisco and San Diego.

James Vasser made a few starts, and pitched well. On the 22nd he went 7 innings, giving up only 2 runs, but received a no decision. He immediately complained of run support. He hadn’t changed, despite the ordeal.

There was a bright spot in this dismal month, however. Yorikazu went 4-0 with a 3.00 ERA in July, giving him a 11-5 record - the team lead in wins. By comparison, Giichi had struggled and lost four in a row.

The trading deadline approached. Eastwood pulled off an amazing deal, sending Daniel Armendariz and his 5.95 ERA (6-10 record) to Boston for first round selection Michael Hensley. He was the 9th overall selection, and got an immediate callup to the majors. The starting pitching was the problem, and Eastwood had done a great job to drop 8.8 million of salary and pick up a fantastic young pitcher.

Hensley was 22 at the time of his promotion, born in late 1982. He was born in Rochester, New York - not far from where I used to live. He was average height for a baseball player, strong, and very well-natured. Possibly one of the easiest guys to get along with. Better yet, he was nearly my age, and I could associate with him.

He made his major league debut on the 31st, to close out the month. Vasser thought he should have pitched and made it clear, but since his arrival Hensley had been warned endlessly by every player about him. He had a great debut, pitching 7 innings, giving up 6 hits, 2 walks, striking out 7, and giving up only one earned run. We routed league-leading San Diego, 14-4.

We finished July a dismal 12-13, 57-51 overall. We sat in 4th, 5 games back from San Francisco, who had a 1 game lead over San Diego (thanks to us). Dominic Rodriguez lead the team with a .376 batting average, third best in baseball at the time, to go with his team-leading 25 steals. Gongora lead the rest of the offensive assault with 22 home runs and 83 RBI’s after 108 games. Manuel Torres took over the team lead in strikeouts with a paltry 84 in 120.1 innings, while Giichi had only 53 in 135.1 innings pitched. His era was a less-than-impressive 4.99.

I had been ejected twice in the month, tallying a disappointing five for the year.

Around the league, the story of the year had become Philadelphia, who had gone from the worst team of 2004 to the best of 2005, leading the NL East by nine games over Atlanta with a 66-42 record.

I was enjoying my year, as Eastwood had asked me to make .500 and we were in contention. I couldn’t but help but wonder how long we could ride this bubble.