La Russa Rounds The Lesher Bases

Baseball’s World Series champion manager Tony La Russa took several hundred rabid fans on a time travel romp around the bases through the St. Louis Cardinals' 2011 season at the end of a three-day Animal Rescue Foundation fund-raising love-fest at Walnut Creek’s Lesher Center.

Leaping to their feet faster than they do when the national anthem begins to play, the nearly full house cheered La Russa, who wandered onstage dressed in a plaid shirt — loose-leaf notes and reading glasses in hand. The knees of his pants, worn and shiny, made a person wonder if he’d just come from standing in for Yadier Molina, the Cardinals' phenomenal catcher.

In opening remarks, La Russa warned the audience, “This is not like any other concert or show you’ll see here.”

He urged them to place a call, text a message and even head out for dinner.

“If I’m boring you: Fall asleep, or leave! If it goes long and you get hungry, meet someone after and they’ll tell you how it ended,” the Alamo resident suggested, in his familiar, tough-as-nails manner.

More than 30 years managing major league ball teams has earned La Russa the right to tell his story his way. That is exactly what he did. Insisting the “story” of winning the championship was a season-long battle against adversity, the veteran manager began from the beginning.

“Some people say if you lose in the first round you had a lousy year,” he said, knocking down the first fallacy. “What we did was historic. We had a group of guys who had humongous heart to win.”

One of his main points, and one he returned to throughout the evening, was guts. “Special guts,” he called them; “great guts,” he said. “Try to put those in a computer and pick out [who’s going to win]. Not gonna happen.”

With clips of pinnacle plays and crushing calamities that befell the 2011 Cardinals, La Russa narrated the video in his methodical, meticulous style.

Everything from injuries (Pitcher Adam Wainwright’s early disappearance from the mound was the first big blip on the team’s radar) to the team’s tailspin in June offered La Russa a chance to repeat his mantra (guts, guts, guts) and boast about the “guys.”

The Lesher crowd sucked it up, even forgiving his side knocks at Tim Lincecum’s  hair and party habits and the Oakland A’s approach to team building.

“You can never compute a guy’s willingness to compete and beat,” he claimed. “You have to watch it. You can’t 'moneyball' it.”

La Russa’s insights were the highlight, as much as Albert Pujols’ heroic at bats and Allen Craig’s home-run-robbing catch at the fence, which earned bursts of applause and shouts of “Yes!” from the Lesher balcony.

“You do what you think is right. It’s easy. If it works, it’s a good decision,” he said, about making trades and difficult decision points throughout the season.

Other managerial advice came in bullet form:

• Never allow friction between hitters and pitchers.
• Never set up drilling (intentionally hitting a batter) when you can’t get someone out.
• If someone messes with my players (drills them), I’ll always respond.
• Technology isn’t perfect and fans are loud, a point he made indirectly when addressing and dismissing the importance of a cell phone call to the bullpen that became a “Can you hear me now?” reenactment.
• Never smile until it’s over, because the gods are watching and they’ll get ya.
• Go deep in the bullpen in the inning you are in. Don’t play ahead.

La Russa also explained what drove him to retire. 

“The worst part of the job was the 192 games and every inning where I sat in the dugout watching and worrying about hitters getting hit,” he said noting that high drills — pitching inside and high—puts players at incredible risk of concussions. “That wears you out.”

As the evening wound down, La Russa looked anything but retired. At three-plus hours, he was just getting warmed up. Even Animal Rescue Foundation (the Walnut Creek agency that La Russa leads) staffers at the event said it’s hard to predict where La Russa is headed, one thing is for sure: his next move will be gutsy.