Peaks, valleys.

From the August 13, 2006 Newberg Report, about something that happened 10 years before that: ==================== On Friday I went to the Alumni Legacy Luncheon, honoring the 1996 playoff team, and I wish the room held 50,000 rather than 500. Table number 33 was near the back of the room, but I'm certain we had the best seats in the house, because eight of us had a full hour and half with Dave Valle. I asked him if the story Rusty Greer told on the Ticket a couple weeks ago was true — the story about Valle calling a team meeting on August 9, 1996, telling Johnny Oates that he and his staff were not excused from the meeting, and neither were the trainers or the equipment guys or the bullpen catcher. Coming off two losses in Detroit, which cut the Rangers' division lead over Seattle to two games, Valle told teammate Dennis Cook on the plane to Toronto that he felt like he needed to say something to the team but wasn't sure it was his place. "Cookie" told Valle, at the time a 12-year big league veteran with all of 62 at-bats in four months as Pudge's backup, that he'd earned the right to speak up. Valle got in the face of every man in that clubhouse, the players and the trainers and the equipment guys and the bullpen catcher — and the manager — and challenged each of them: "Are you willing to do what it takes to win?" Picture a second lieutenant lining up the troops, side by side, barking the same question, the same command, at each of them. Starting with the Senior General. "Are you willing to do what it takes to win?" Johnny Oates, who had just granted Valle permission to hold the meeting and asked when the coaches should vacate the room, only to be told by Valle that nobody was excused from the room, responded to his backup catcher: "Yes, sir." The Rangers reeled off seven straight wins. The division lead was extended to seven games, a season high (and without checking, probably a franchise high for the 25-year-old club). Valle talked about the lead that subsequently almost disappeared, a nine-game cushion on September 11 that shrunk to one game on September 20 when Garret Anderson hit that two-run double that I'll never forget, that shot to left-center that turned a win into a loss in five seconds. Mark McLemore had given Texas a 5-4 lead in the top of the 10th. Mike Stanton got Jim Edmonds and Tim Salmon out to start the bottom of the inning, but then gave up singles to George Arias and Rex Hudler. And then Anderson almost cost me my life. Valle said he was the most shocked person in the clubhouse when he saw his name in the starting nine the next day. Oates was notorious for his etched-in-granite lineups. Valle, as he put it himself, was like a backup quarterback, "getting to play every third Sunday." But with eight games to go and the team reeling, seemingly about to squander its chance at a first-ever playoff berth in cataclysmic fashion, Oates sat Pudge and put Valle in the lineup to catch John Burkett. Valle homered to left off Jim Abbott in the seventh, highlighting a 2 for 4 night and a 7-1 Rangers win. It was the last of Valle's 77 lifetime home runs. And, in his words, maybe the biggest. Texas would finish the year with six wins in those final eight games, and an invitation to the American League playoffs. The clincher came on September 27, a surreal 15-inning loss to the Angels that was dissected by a simple flip of the out-of-town scoreboard, late in the game, from "9" to "F," next to "SEA 1" that stood above "OAK 8." The Mariners were done, and the Rangers played on, losing the game that wouldn't end and then hugging each other on the field as fireworks went off forever and we all heard Holtzie's voice over the P.A. system, narrating the moment and failing to disguise that he was as overcome as any of us. I was in the stands until 2 a.m. that night. Dave Valle said the best moment of his baseball career was when his boys were doused in champagne on September 27, 1996 (well, September 28), during a clubhouse celebration that didn't end until 5 a.m. * * * I don't know what's going to happen the next seven weeks, and neither do you and neither does Michael or Mark or Aki, or Buck or JD. I can see Valle's finger in my face, asking if I'm willing to do what it takes to win. I am. See you at the yard. ==================== I've always hated the last two paragraphs of that report, because even on my own cheesiness scale it stands out as pathetic. But every season, every decent season at least, there's a moment when that Valle story is one I can't get out of my head, and right now it's there, and I need to go get something to eat to stop thinking about the last 30 minutes, and the last 10 games. =========================================================== To join the free Newberg Report mailing list so you can get e-mail deliveries of every edition of the newsletter, daily minor league game recaps, and frequent Newberg Report News Flashes, go to www.newbergreport.com and click the "Mailing List" link on the top menu bar. (c) Jamey Newberg http://www.newbergreport.com Twitter @newbergreport