Maybe it reflects the man, maybe it reflects the world he finds himself in, and probably both, but Mike Shildt ruled on Friday afternoon last St. Louis Cardinal to be out of town.
He buckled into the last available rental car and stepped toward Chicago, where, one day, the Cardinals would follow a season that twice proved to be boring for the coronavirus. Eighteen of them had become infected.
Shildt, in his third season as manager of the Cardinals, 52 years old, and almost as real as they come, had their shots for batting practice, got his stuff together for the three-hour ride and five-day trip, and allowed dozens of other cars – carrying his players and staff – start shaking their heads.
“I liked it,” he said. ‘I thought it was great. You know, driving to baseball and re-entering the competition and doing it separately, but together, took me back to some grassroot days of Legion ball, three hours drive to playoff games and tournaments and all sorts of fun things. … gave me the opportunity to pick up some phone calls, make contact with some guys and then meditate a little on some of the questions you’re asking about, how the best way to navigate this.
‘I was the last to leave my crushing responsibilities and a few organizational things. And I wanted to make sure I was the last one to leave, before anyone had anything on the highway that I could pass and pick them up. ‘
Mike Shildt, cardinal manager, baseball lift, sweeper bus driver.
Cardinal Manager Mike Shildt will try to guide his team through a wonderful scheme when they return from a COVID-19 outbreak. (AP Photo / Jeff Roberson)
Since the game on July 29, the day before the first positive tests, the Cardinals have played five games, none in 2 weeks, and have maintained two quarantines. They gather – if one player and one coach can be a meeting, and spit over most of a day – in St. Louis. Louis, early Tuesday, again pitchers felt the dirt and grass under their feet, players waving clubs in their hands. They will play two games against the Chicago White Sox on Saturday, leading with veteran Adam Wainwright and a bullpen game on day one, then Dakota Hudson on day two, then dealing with two more doubleheaders in the next three days. The Cardinals will also have to retrain their coaching staff, as some were affected by the virus and another – Willie McGee on Friday – chose not to continue.
“Everyone is as optimistic as possible,” Shildt said. “Exciting to play handball again. One of the things we’re talking about, and it’s true, it’s easy to complain about. It’s the easiest thing in the world to complain about. But winners find solutions. … Yes, there have been a ton of challenges facing this group over the last couple of weeks, three weeks. But we accept them and move forward. ”
When he was reminded that he was guarding a baseball team in Chicago that was back in spring training through body calendars, and that every team they are good at from here is in their regular season calendars, Shildt smiled a little and said, ‘That a factual assessment. That’s right.”
He sat with his back to a window whose curtain – khaki, with something like a crossword puzzle design – could only access a hotel room. The clouds outside the window, surrounding his head, were bright white and gray on the fringes. As he spoke, they removed some, revealing the last blue in an evening sky.
The Miami Marlins were back from an eight-day isolation to win their first five games. The Cardinals double that dismissal and roll in a scheme almost too thick with baseball to represent. This is what the task is now, this and maintaining good health, and one day bring back the quarantine, and see and see what comes. Shildt admitted to despair of a moment when a second outburst seemed to threaten the season, when it seemed to Shildt, “We are not fulfilling our commitment to the league right now.”
He said he spent two minutes there, then came back on the phone, tending to players and coaches and staff who needed to hear from him. Soon enough, and after what must have seemed to be forever, he would be in that Yukon, to the north, three hours from a place where baseball would be, then two, then one. In a sign that her luck might have turned, Shildt came up against not one cardinal. No steaming radiators. No flat tires. Just open road, some music on the radio, still a few miles away.
They have tried this once and, for whatever reason, failed.
“There will always be a hole somewhere,” he said, “with an invisible virus that has shut down the world.”
They will try again.
“It’s a challenge,” Shildt said. “But we accept it.”
Related
