If you ever wondered how much actual coaching a big-time college coach does, I can tell you, after sitting two seats over from Virginia baseball coach Brian O’Connor for three-and-a-half hours at Fenway Park in Boston last week, at least in O’Connor’s case, anyway, it’s a lot.
Scott German and I had the opportunity of a lifetime for UVA’s Fenway game on Thursday. Tickets for the game, a fundraiser for ALS research, were all general admission, and we took full advantage of that, planting ourselves in the two seats in the front row to the left of the third-base dugout an hour before the game.
It didn’t register until gametime that O’Connor would set up shop right next door to us, and be within earshot all night.
What we were able to take in firsthand was a lot of routine interaction between O’Connor and his assistant coaches – mostly check-ins with pitching coach Drew Dickinson – and then the routine chatter that you hear from a baseball dugout, along the lines of C’monmakeagoodpitchlet’sgocmonnow!
The learning part of the night for me was hearing the instruction to his players.
Jacob Ference, for instance, in his first at bat, worked a 2-0 count in his favor, then swung at an off-speed out of the zone for strike one, before taking a fastball for a called strike three.
O’Connor’s message to Ference as he walked back to the dugout: you’d earned that 2-0 count, you need to use it better.
Later in the game, UVA third baseman Luke Hanson was stationed even with the bag with runners on first and second, nobody out, with the defense protecting against the bunt.
On the first pitch, which the batter took for a ball, Hanson had sprinted toward home plate, leaving third base open for the runner on second to steal, if the kid on second had been paying attention.
O’Connor was obviously paying attention.
“Luke, Luke!” O’Connor said, trying to get Hanson’s attention. Once he had it: “Don’t be so aggressive. Take a couple of slide steps. You’ll have plenty of time if it comes your way.”
And then there was an insightful late-game chat with rightfielder Casey Saucke, who came in after a defensive half-inning and asked O’Connor if he should be playing closer to the line.
The issue there being, the right-field line in Fenway down toward the Pesky Pole, which is 297 feet from home plate, is snug up against the wall.
In every other ballpark in America, you’ve got at least 30 feet, in most parks a lot more, between the foul line and the wall.
Standing where you’re supposed to in right in Fenway can make you feel like you’re out of position.
O’Connor related this to Saucke, telling his outfielder that he’s seen too many singles misplayed into triples off caroms in the right-field corner.
Those last two stories, I should note, came after the game had already gotten out of reach for Virginia in what turned into an 8-2 loss.
The game seemed to stretch on forever – it was well after 10:30 p.m., from a 7 p.m. first pitch, before the final out was recorded.
Not once in that period of time did I hear O’Connor sound frustrated with how things were going, interact with his guys in anything other than a teacher-pupil kind of way.
This is a guy who has taken his team to six College World Series appearances, has a national championship, turned down a chance at the LSU job a couple of years ago when the guy who helped him get the UVA job retired there, is basically, based on everything I just told you, is obviously at the top of his profession.
There are dads coaching Little League spouting off like they’re Earl Weaver in Game 7 of a World Series.
This Brian O’Connor guy, let me tell you, if I didn’t know this already, and I did, but this experience just reinforced it for me, that guy is special.
If you couldn’t tell already, yeah, I left Fenway a Brian O’Connor guy. For life.
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Chris Graham
