A majors dilemma

Sporting News, The, Jan 30, 1995 by Steve Marantz

The closest thing to a Hot Stove League in upper New York state is the Buffalo School of Baseball. Located in a windowless strip-mall building, the school has four pitching machines, a wooden mound, enough netting to outfit a fleet of fishing trawlers, bats, balls and bleachers. In late afternoon, children and teen-agers converge to be instructed in hitting, pitching and fielding.

Most important, perhaps, the school offers good conversation. Re summer game always is the topic du jour, even as snow drifts and Erie's wind cuts to the bone.

This winter, baseball talk has a sharper edge than usual. As the strike lingers into its sixth month, Owner Rick Lancellotti, and instructors Mike Twardoski and Chris Rauth openly ponder the possibility of becoming big league replacement players.

The three men have much in common. They share a passion for baseball. They have extensive minor league resumes and have been frustrated repeatedly trying to make the big leagues. They are in their 30s and in good physical condition. They have modest incomes. They also share a contempt for the striking Major League Players Association, which, they say, has turned its back on their

Twardoski, 30, of Lockport, N.Y., is different in one respect. His past four seasons were at the Triple-A level, hitting .285 with 13 home runs and 50 RBIs for Pawtucket (International) last season. ibis season he has a minor league contract to play for the Braves' International League team in Richmond. Lancellotti, 38, and Rauth, 31, have been out of pro baseball for two years.

"I can weigh my decision more because I have the minor league Option," says Twardoski, a first baseman noted for a slick glove. "These other guys don't have an option. They see this as a great opportunity to get back in the game."

Rauth agrees. He was a righthanded starter in the Mets and Blue Jays organizations until shoulder tendinitis derailed his career in 1989. He played a couple of years in Italy rebuilding his arm strength. Now he says if s strong again, and he wants another chance.

"I'd go in a minute," Rauth says. "All the guys I'm talking to tell me to go. My friends and family say go. They can't relate to the strike.

"I'm engaged to be married, but I have no kids and no other responsibilities holding me back. I have the job here, but they could find someone to fill in for me. It would be no disruption to my life."

Lancellotti also wants one more chance to fulfill an elusive dream. He was a slugging lefthander (more than 300 home runs in minor league and Japanese baseball) whose career wound through 12 minor league cities. He had brief stints with the Padres, Giants and Red Sox, but he got only 65 major league atbats.

"I've got some unfinished business," Lancellotti says. "It's almost like it's something I've got to do - got to prove. It's hard to explain. You have to have played to understand."

Each individual's decision is being made in the face of strong and repeated discouragement by striking major leaguers. Some have received personal calls from striking players, others get the message from newspapers, radio or TV.

Veteran Brett Butler, a member of the union's executive board, reiterated the message in a telephone interview. The message is, in essence, that replacement should not cross lines because it will jeopardize the union's chances to win the strike, cause individuals to be labeled "scabs" and result in an artificial big league experience.

"Let's get this straight," Butler says. "Don't call These guys replacement players - they're scabs. I say to them, `You're being used.' If in fact there is no chance in the player's mind that he's ever going to to the big leagues, who am I to tell him not to cross? But if there is an inkling of opportunity of having a major league career, he should know that at we're doing is for the younger players ... in Triple A and Double A who are coming up. We're not striking for money. It's for a principle."

Conflicting emotions are tearing at Twardoski. Many striking major leaguers - he mentions the Astros' Jeff Bagwell and Indians' Albert Belle - were his minor league teammates and friends. He values those friendships and is reluctant to jeopardize them by crossing lines.

At the same time he feels he is in his prime as a player and that he needs to draw some attention to himself.

"My ego tells me I'm good enough to play up there, that's why I've stayed around so long,' Twardoski says. "If I could open up some eyes - maybe that would lure me into playing. If they bring the coaching staff up there and I could play in front of them, that would be something.

It's going to be one of the hardest decisions I'll ever make in my career and life. I don't like to make waves. I'm not a hot-dog. But I know this is what is going to happen if I become a replacement player.

I have no idea what I'm going to do. I don't know if I can cross and see friends who I played with now in the big leagues watch me as I cross. Personally, I am not getting younger. I can't sit out a year. I don't know how many more years I have. This is very tough.