’88 was a great year for me. Batted .296. Knocked in ninety nine runs. Hit thirty homers, stole thirty two bases. I was the first man in the history of the club to do that. The fans began to notice me. So did the front office, because with those kinds of numbers I was becoming an everyday player. But that utility role was sticking to me. I never knew from one day to the next where they were going to play me or what my spot in the batting order would be. Mostly it was short or third. My spot in the lineup depended on how the other guys were hitting the ball. It was starting to get annoying. But I didn’t let on. The papers said my biggest weakness was in the field. How the hell can a man improve if he doesn’t get to play the same position on a daily basis? But I didn’t complain because I wanted what’s best for the team. And I was starting to like it there. I didn’t want to jinx it with gripes.
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