This provides a little insight into discussions between Ozzie and his coaches. A good read.
With Ozzie, it's best to buckle up
Sunday, March 7, 2004
TUCSON, Ariz. — Ozzie Guillen, having told his old friend Harold Baines to take the front seat, settled into the back of White Sox pitching coach Don Cooper's rented Impala and suggested what might be construed as a slight change in plans.
"Let's go to a strip club," he said, perhaps to get over the disappointment of discovering Cooper's ride was not a Mercedes but, as he described it, "Some bull(feathers) car."
Of course, Guillen was kidding — at least about their destination.
For one, it was barely past noon. For another, he, Baines and Cooper were wearing White Sox uniforms. Lastly, they were heading to Hi Corbett Field for a split-squad game with Colorado, which along with the concurrent contest at Tucson Electric Park, marked Guillen's first games as Sox manager.
Besides, Baines was paying him no mind, being much more concerned with the large stash of eye drops in Cooper's ashtray.
"Got enough Visine?" Baines asked.
"Hey," Cooper said, "if you saw my eyes every morning ... "
"From drinking all night, that's why," Guillen said, breaking himself up.
For me, the condition of Cooper's eyes was less bothersome than that of his ears. The turn of the ignition key prodded Bob Seger's "Turn the Page" from the Chevy's sound system and the greatest hits CD that would be the accompaniment for our short drive from the Sox's south side complex to the Rockies' east side home.
Not that the Silver Bullet Band could drown out Guillen, who let me hitch a ride — actually, I asked and he said, "I don't give a (fudge)" — to what only technically marked the beginning of his Sox stewardship.
"If we win two games, then it was my debut," Guillen said. "If not, I'll blame it on the coaches and (Saturday is) my chance."
Guillen didn't need the extra day. He got a pair of wins, shoehorning a squeeze play and a hit-and-run into the five innings he held the reins at Tucson Electric Park.
Still, Guillen would have happily bent the rules if it meant an advantage for him and his players, which is something Sox brass may have to get used to.
Rolling past a gas station at the outset of his road trip, Guillen pointed out general manager Ken Williams fueling up his SUV, prompting Cooper to ask if Baines had received a company gas card.
""They slipped that one by me," Baines said.
"Do we get that in Chicago?" Guillen asked. "I'd kill that thing, filling up everyone's car."
Cooper didn't have an answer, but assured Guillen his generosity had been noticed.
"You already did something we didn't do last year," he said. "We went out to dinner. We never went out to dinner (last year) — not once."
The Sox didn't do a lot of things in 2003, including bringing a sense of enthusiasm and camaraderie to the office. To say Guillen has addressed those shortfalls in the Sox clubhouse so far would be an understatement.
"It's pretty noticeable," Williams said. "Not that there was a heavy air around before. That's inaccurate and unfair to portray it that way. But you can't ignore that it's a more energetic environment and a looser atmosphere.
"At the same time, whether it be players or coaches or whomever, everybody's getting their work in and going through it. The days are a little shorter, seemingly."
Car trips, too. Guillen barely had time to defend Tucson's golf courses from Baines' critique before pulling into Hi Corbett, where he played as a Padres minor leaguer.
"I haven't been to this place in 20 years," he said.
"And I bet it hasn't changed a bit," Cooper answered.
Nor has Guillen, to look at him in action. From sitting in the main clubhouse in a semicircle of folding chairs with a bunch of players, spewing anecdotes and profanities in two languages, to talking with fans and slapping players' rears on the field, he is as animated as he ever was as a shortstop.
"I think we're going to have to let Ozzie be Ozzie," Williams said. "In some of the background that I did on him, I'd heard those kinds of things — that he'd go in and he'd sit with the players as though he were one of the guys, but as soon as they got out of line, no one was tougher on them."
For the time being, though, it's nothing but positive.
Piling back into the Impala after four innings at Hi Corbett, including three shutout frames from Jon Garland, Guillen said, "Garland threw the (stuffing) out of the ball."
"He did real well," Cooper said. "He threw 44 pitches — perfecto."
"How did he give up so many homers with that sinker?" Guillen asked.
"High sinkers," Cooper answered, "and falling asleep a little bit."
Cooper and Guillen kept talking pitching, their chatter broken only by Baines reminding Cooper, "You're turning right at the light."
Danny Wright, who also threw well Friday, has the inside track for the fifth starter's job, but not by much. Esteban Loaiza's challenge will be working as hard as he did last year.
"I told him he made it to the outskirts of the elite in one year," Cooper said. "He stays focused another year, he'll be in the elite, making $10 million."
"Let him cross that bridge when he comes to it," Baines said.
I mentioned that I thought Loaiza lost focus last year when chasing Fernando Valenzuela's mark for Mexican-born pitchers, which he eventually tied, of winning 21 games in a season.
"Who gives a (shoot)," Guillen said. "Winning 21 games in the big leagues, that's what matters."
Pulling up to the gate at the Sox complex, Cooper is surprised when a security guard motions for him to stop.
"We're wearing uniforms," Cooper said. "Does he think we're impostors?"
"It's happened before," Baines said.
Not this time. I've no doubt Guillen is the real thing.
