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These Birds Are Cuckoo, but They Can Crow a Little
"We have to earn respect and get people back on board. Some fans have jumped ship and you can understand. All I'm asking is for people to give us a chance."
Part of the newfound fun is based in more work, more structure and more emphasis on fundamentals than the Orioles have had in years. Once in each homestand, the Orioles come early for pitcher fielding practice on one day and bunting practice on another. Few teams do this after March. Trembley has also instituted infield practice before the first game of each homestand and road trip, largely because it's such an old-time ego booster.
"In Anaheim, at 6:20, I told some fans, 'Stick around, you're going to get a treat, a big league team taking infield, like they all used to' " Trembley said. "We took a nice infield. Showtime, 40,000 watching us look like the Globetrotters. We won that night.'"
For years, one Orioles manager after another has complained, "The inmates run the asylum here." That's changed with MacPhail. Nobody goes over him to get the owner's ear. So, Trembley actually has authority. Fifteen minutes before the end of batting practice, he motions subtly with one hand to let his regulars know that they can come in early. Not one leaves the field until they see the little sign. Not since Earl Weaver?
As always in families, freedom and fun only flourish after discipline has been established. "These guys love getting on each other. [Kevin] Millar is priceless in the clubhouse. I don't know where he gets the energy," first base coach John Shelby said. "I wasn't here for the losing years. But it feels a little like the days with Earl in charge and John Lowenstein smashing birthday cakes in the middle of the clubhouse with a bat."
Tone is all well and good. But, ultimately, players do the winning. "For us, first, it's been the pitching," said Trembley, meaning Daniel Cabrera and Jeremy Guthrie at the top of the rotation, winning these two Boston games with gritty quality starts after falling behind 3-0. "Guthrie is a tough, tough cookie," said Trembley.
For Cabrera (4-1), who's spent his career defining "inconsistent," this afternoon was his seventh straight quality start. This is at least the third "new Daniel Cabrera." But you never know. "He's developed a two-seam sinker. It's filthy, like Josh Beckett's," bench coach Dave Jauss said.
However, on the whole staff, "the biggest individual surprise is Sherrill," Trembley said. Last season, the Orioles paid $42 million for relievers who were awful, injured or both. Now, they've patched together a bullpen of journeymen, prospects, suspects and, at the end of the line, the quintessentially left-handed Sherrill with his ludicrous hat, his five seasons in the netherworld of independent leagues and, at 31, just four career saves before this season.
After five years of scuffling in leagues that don't even have stats, Sherrill was finally signed by the Mariners and reported to San Antonio, where teammates razzed him for not even knowing how to bend the brim of his hat like a proper pro.
"So, I decided, 'Okay, I'll wear it the way they send it to me,' " said Sherrill, who now has 15 saves, second in the American League. That hat became his badge of independence, his answer to mockery, his flag of defiance.
One night, two weeks ago, an Oriole realized Sherrill's hat was not only a fitting symbol for a pitcher who couldn't get a big league contract for five years after college, but wouldn't quit trying. It suited the butt-of-every-joke Orioles, too.
"Yeah, it was Millar, of course," said Sherrill. "He did it [at first base] while I was still pitching. Glad I didn't see that."
He'd have laughed too hard to pitch. Even the Orioles can't handle that much fun.




