For Candy Man, How Sweet It Is With the Angels

In Pittsburgh, the Pirates can mix and match their uniform parts to come up with nine different ensembles, including the infamous all-yellow look, which is a nice outfit to have if you’re lost at sea.

John Candelaria, who is 6-7 and 250, wasn’t crazy about that one.

“I looked like a big canary,” Candelaria says.

Now Candelaria wears the more traditional Angel uniform, and it already has changed his image.

“On the mound he looks like King Kong standing on the Empire State Building,” says Bobby Grich.

That’s better. A little respect, finally.

Pittsburgh, currently baseball’s leading exporter of ballplayers and bad news, was John Candelaria’s home for the last decade.

They had some good times together, Pittsburgh and Candelaria, won some ballgames and even a World Series. But it was a rocky relationship, especially the last couple of years, as the so-called Candy Man grew anxious to leave. Make that desperate.

The relationship-gone-bad ended two months ago when the Pirates traded Candelaria, two of his teammates and three large salaries to the Angels.

So far, so good. Candelaria, despite a rocky outing Tuesday night, is 6-2 with the Angels, who happen to be in a pennant race.

He is glad to be here.

When Candy showed up in Anaheim, Angel Manager Gene Mauch asked him if he prefered to start or relieve.

“I told him I’d be ready any time he wanted me to relieve,” Candelaria says, “and if he wanted me to start, just put the ball in my locker. If they told me my job was to bring water to Mauch every inning, I’d be happy, just to get the hell out of where I was.”

Over the past year, Candelaria has called the Pirate general manager a “bozo” and an “idiot,” roundly criticized the team owner for cheapskating on team airline flights, taken a strong anti-drug stand while playing in baseball’s chemical Disneyland, and drop-kicked his glove over the outfield fence when exiled to the bullpen.

Yeah, it was about time to move on.

Candelaria likes the new place, the weather, the fans, the charter plane flights, the spot in the starting rotation, the pennant race.

He looks around the Angel clubhouse.

“They’re low-key guys here,” Candelaria says. “There’s not the same craziness as we had on the late, great Pirates. They (the Angels) are just as confident, they’re just not as crazy.”

Part of that craziness of the late, great Pirates, we’re all finding out now, came from drugs. The public admissions of several players didn’t surprise Candelaria.

“I knew all the players involved,” he says. “They all know I’ll say what’s on my mind. You reap what you sow.

“They’re just getting a slap on the wrist. I hope they learned . . . I knew what was going on before it went to trial.”

Did he say anything?

“I could only, at times, talk to the individuals, ask exactly what they think they’re accomplishing in this profession. I’m not a judge. There’s a lot of pressure in this game, people choose to handle things differently. I drink beer.

“I’ve made mistakes in this game, too. I just hope they’ve learned. I’m drug free. They can have me (urinate) in the bottle 15 times a day, I have nothing to fear.”

Asked if he supports Commissioner Peter Ueberroth’s plea that players submit to a drug-test plan, Candelaria says, “Let me put it this way: I feel something has to be done. He’s a very smart politician to go to the public first, rather than the players.”

Candelaria says part of the blame for drug abuse in baseball must go to the owners.

“They (some owners) know who the people are. I know management knows the players doing it, and they don’t do anything about it. As long as the player is productive, they don’t care. That’s just my opinion.”

Candelaria stayed out of the drug mess in Pittsburgh, but he was never far from the headlines. For the last two seasons, he has had an ongoing campaign to get himself traded. His strategy was to badmouth the team owner and general manager.

If he hadn’t sounded off regularly as he did, “I’d still be there. It took two years, a lot of hurt feelings on both sides, but I got out.

“We left Pittsburgh with everyone saying we had a bad attitude. I don’t know. They were letting people get away with too much. I had my part, I won’t deny that. I was just being rebellious, I felt they had crapped on me.”

Life is still far from perfect for Candelaria. His 2-year-old son, John Jr., is still in a coma after falling into the family’s swimming pool last Christmas Day. It’s a tragedy Candelaria prefers not to discuss.

He did say recently, when asked about his performance on the field, “I have enough pressure at home, baseball is my release.”

Mostly he talks about how nice it is to be in Southern California, out of Pittsburgh. There is a certain restraint in his enthusiasm, though.

It’s like, let’s wait and see. See if we win. See if my arm holds out. See if I don’t wake up and find myself back in Pittsburgh.

Candelaria is signed through the ’87 season. He’d like to wind up his career with the Angels, but let’s wait and see.

“Let’s just say I feel a lot more comfortable here than I did the first day,” Candelaria says. “They (his teammates) have become aware I’m here.”

He has been a standout, even without the canary suit.