Day after outburst, Guillen says he’s ready to step up and lead team
By SAM MELLINGER
The Kansas City Star
Crisis day with the Royals is only eight minutes old when the phone rings. It’s just past midnight, maybe an hour or so after Jose Guillen’s F-bomb-laden rant directed at his teammates and himself for underachieving.
The longest losing streak in the majors this year will do that kind of thing. So Guillen, after time to think and a private conversation with his manager, responds to a text message from The Star with a phone call.
“This (stuff) has to stop, man,” he begins. “It can’t go on like this.”
It is only the beginning of what will be a defining day of the Royals’ season. The highest-paid player puts the team on blast. Leo Nunez, the team’s second-best reliever so far, goes on the disabled list. Brett Tomko is moved to the bullpen, so the rotation is in flux.
And Billy Butler, a cornerstone of the future and the man whose jersey the team gave out the first month of the season, is sent to Class AAA Omaha. Guillen’s outburst is circulated around the city and country, and besides the Samuel L. Jackson language, the part that catches the most attention is his calling some teammates “(freaking) babies.”
Management has thought about giving Butler time in Omaha since well before Guillen started cursing, but many will make the connection anyway.
So Hillman calls a team meeting for 3:45 Thursday afternoon. He is the first to speak.
“Guys,” he says, “you know why they’re booing you out there? You know why you’re getting booed on your home field? It’s one reason and one reason only. Because those fans out there care.”
Hillman says “a couple” of players spoke as well, but Guillen wasn’t one of them.
He’d already said plenty, of course. In front of his locker after the game Wednesday, and then over the phone early Thursday morning.
Guillen’s main point on the phone, which may have been lost in the public digestion of his comments, is that he’s sick of hearing people bash Hillman. Guillen has a well-documented history of calling out managers when he feels it necessary, so the defense is worth noting.
It also could be viewed as Guillen’s emergence as a primary clubhouse voice, depending on how the team responds. Guillen has talked openly about seeing his career in a different stage now, a place where he can be the veteran, the clubhouse police officer.
He admits he spent enough time as the clubhouse punk who needed policing. Maybe this is his chance to return the favor.
“I learned the hard way,” Guillen says. “I’m not trying to point fingers at anybody, but this is not going to happen here. I signed a big deal here. I’m supposed to be one of the leaders. I’ve got a big responsibility to carry some of these young guys, and we need to play hard, so what’s wrong with getting on some guys?”
The feeling around the team seems to be that Guillen’s thoughts needed to be expressed ? by someone ? and Hillman said Guillen was the best candidate to do it.
But Guillen brings some of his own baggage to this conversation. He doesn’t always hustle out routine ground balls. He admittedly started the season 20 pounds overweight, which contributed to a bad personal start, which contributed to a bad team start.
Hillman and Royals general manager Dayton Moore each said they liked Guillen’s message but only wished it came with family-friendly language. Mark Teahen also saw some truth in the rant.
“He’s right,” he says. “We do need to learn how to win.”
John Buck, the team’s union representative, thinks Guillen’s language created more attention than the message otherwise would have. But, like Hillman, Moore and Teahen, Buck said he agreed with Guillen’s intent.
“Everything he said had value to it, and needed to be addressed,” Buck says. “There is some merit to what he said. We need to fix some things.”
So maybe this is why, even with all the drama, Moore is smiling.
He is leaning against the backstop behind home plate at Kauffman Stadium, long-sleeved shirt and tie ? but no sweat, not even on a hot afternoon. He is proud of the fact that these Royals, with their early work and infield practice, are working like few big-league teams before them.
So he smiles, even through a losing streak that’s keeping him up at night.
“I’ve never gone through this, ever,” Moore says. “You find out a lot about the people you work with. You find out a lot about your ownership, about yourself as a person and professional, and I’m liking what’s going on.”
Loss No. 11 comes without the historical indignity of a no-hitter, or the pain of a blown five-run lead in the ninth inning.
The embarrassment of a shutout is avoided on Kevin Slowey’s second-to-last pitch. His last pitch makes it his first career complete game.
And so the booing is steady throughout, the fans, as Hillman might point out, still at least caring enough to be heard. The loudest ovation comes when Hillman goes on the field to question a call, and the fans think he’s about to get tossed.
He doesn’t.
“There might be some people who perceive this as crisis,” Hillman says. “I just look at it as adjustments that need to be made not only now, but long term, for us to move forward. These adjustments happen to be made right in the middle of a 10-game losing streak. It’s unfortunate timing, because the perception gets turned up that it is a crisis.
“Well, it’s a crisis anytime we lose 10 games in a row, it is for me. We can’t afford to do that. I want an opportunity to be here for the championships.”