Padres Consulting Second Guessers

A friend called the other day to inform me that he had become a consultant for the Padres, saying it in a manner which suggested he was in daily contact with Joan Kroc, Ballard Smith and perhaps Dick Williams.

“Really?” I said. “How did you come to be chosen for such an exalted position?”

His answer was evasive, shrouded in the mystery which would seem appropriate for such a confidential and sensitive position. He spoke in hushed tones, indicating that he feared Tom Lasorda might have a tap on his telephone.

This was not making much sense to me. This guy has been telling me for two years that the Padres should trade Eric Show, Carmelo Martinez, Terry Kennedy and Kevin McReynolds for Charlie Hough. He would probably give Hough, 38, a guaranteed 10-year contract.

And this guy has become a consultant for the Padres?

“I suppose that keeps you pretty busy,” I said, trying to keep the skepticism out of my voice. “Who do you report to? Joan? Ballard? Jack McKeon? Or will you stand next to Dick Williams in the dugout?”

He didn’t know.

“What?” I gasped. “A consultant is an adviser, right? How can you give advice if you don’t know who’s getting it?”

I could tell he was squirming. He finally agreed to give me some insight if I allowed him to remain anonymous.

“You’ve been anonymous for almost 50 years,” I said. “I don’t see why that should change now.”

He didn’t think that was particularly funny, though I was pleased to let a little air out of his balloon. However, he admitted that his career as a consultant was rather brief, and that he did not expect to spend the summer dining in the owner’s box.

“I got a phone call one night while I was cooking dinner,” he said. “A woman wanted to ask me some questions about the Padres . . . “

“Who was it?” I interrupted. “Joan Kroc?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Mighta been.”

“What did she want to know?” I said.

“A lot of things,” he said. “She asked me questions about drug problems and team morale and whether the last publicity I remember was good or bad. I told her what I remembered most was the squabble between Smith and Kroc.”

Obviously, though my friend’s views in such critical areas will be very helpful to the Padres, I remarked that it did not appear likely he would be asked to name the opening day lineup.

“Hey,” he said, “she asked me about players too. She asked how the Padre players match up against the others in the National League and I told her they matched up real well. She asked how the Padres matched team against team, and I told her it didn’t look good.”

That didn’t seem to make sense.

“Morale,” he said. “Team morale. It’s a problem. That’s what I told her.”

Morale? What did he know about the Padres’ morale?

“I can tell,” he said. “You know what I really sensed they wanted from me? They were asking a lot of tricky questions about Dick Williams.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Do you mean that someone purporting to represent the Padres, maybe even Joan Kroc, wanted to know what you thought about Dick Williams?”

“That’s right,” he said. “She finally came right out and asked me if I thought Williams should remain as manager.”

And?

“No,” he said. “I think we should get a new manager. I think Williams has peaked.”

Now , I was getting interested. It was not interesting that my friend thought Williams had outlived his usefulness as manager, but rather that anyone should be soliciting my friend’s opinion in the first place.

It occurred to me at about this point that this had to be a survey of some sort. Someone was interested in how the public perceives the Padres.

It had to be the Padres.

I thanked my friend, and congratulated him on his new importance. And called the Padres. I got bounced from office to office by folks who claimed they had never heard of (a) my friend or (b) a survey. They seemed baffled.

Finally, the telephone rang and it was a fellow with the Padres’ advertising agency. Yes, he said, about 100 season-ticket holders were being interviewed at the request of the ballclub. No, he would go into no more detail.

Why so mysterious?

It seems logical that an organization would want to know what its customers are thinking, though I suppose it might be a bit sensitive to be asking questions about the manager before spring training has even started. It might be interpreted as an indication that ammunition is being gathered for a later firing squad. Otherwise, why ask?

Not to seem unappreciative, I called my friend and thanked him for being taken into his confidence. It helps to stroke a source, even if he is not as important as he thinks he is.

“You checked me out and I’m right on?” he gloated. “Let me tell you about a few other problems I identified. I think we should get rid of the little guy at first base, the old guy at third base and the guy with the questionable knees at shortstop.”

“Geez,” I said, “I’m sure glad you’re not a consultant for The Times’ sports department.”

“Oh,” he said, “let me tell you about that phone call . . . “

“Never mind,” I said, and hung up.

I didn’t want to hear about how Dick Williams and I would be sharing a table at a soup kitchen.