People’s Choice Award Goes to Padres’ Supporting Actor

Under the heading of what inspires multitudes to a most-frenzied ovation, consider the introduction of the Padre players before Monday night’s home opener.

The athlete greeted with the most fervor was . . . the decibel meter, please:

A. A Hall of Fame-bound first baseman beginning what will likely be his last season hereabouts.

B. A 26-year-old outfielder with the .329 career batting average and the sunny disposition of a summer day.

C. A veteran relief pitcher, another possible Hall of Famer, who has battled ownership over a subject dear to the heart of many a fan. Beer.

D. A 29-year-old utility man with a .250 career average and one start (with one hit) in the season’s first week.

It’s obvious which player would seem least likely to get the most prolonged applause. A utility man getting a louder ovation than a Steve Garvey or a Tony Gwynn or a Goooooose Gossage is comparable to the drummer upstaging Whitney Houston.

Something called Star Quality is generally what it takes to sustain cheering . . . someone with Star Quality.

I give you a guy who’d laugh at the notion that he has anything close to Star Quality. I give you a guy who would linger in the background and beat the thunder out of his drum and expect a polite patter of recognition. I give you a guy who is a one-man argument for a Best Supporting Actor Award in baseball.

His name is Timothy Earl Flannery, though anyone who follows the Padres already knows that.

It was Tim Flannery who received the ovation Monday night, and probably any other night he is beckoned from his dugout domicile.

Flannery has not gained this level of popularity because of any particular thing he has done. Instead, he is cheered because of what it always seems he is ready to give.

Everything.

Larry Bowa is midway through only his second week as a major league manager, but he has already recognized what he has in Flannery.

On Sunday, for example, with the Padres 0 for 5 and staring at a Tampa Bay-style won-lost record, Bowa inserted Flannery at second base. He went against the grain to do this, because Cincinnati was starting a left-handed pitcher and Flannery is a left-handed batter. Bowa made this move to inject enthusiasm rather than in search of a three-run home run or other such tangible lift.

The Padres won.

“I wanted to shake up the lineup,” Bowa said, “and Tim’s enthusiasm spreads. Look at him. He’s had to work for everything he’s had and he doesn’t worry about individual stats. He wants to play, but he doesn’t sulk or feel sorry for himself when he doesn’t.”

Bowa had Flannery in the lineup again Monday night. All Flannery did was beat out an infield hit with a dive into first base, get hit by what was possibly a strike on the inside corner and finally break up a double play with a Gas House Gang slide into the San Francisco shortstop. When the umpire ruled that Flannery’s slide was out of the base line, Bowa was ejected from the game after the ensuing conversation. Loved ones have to be protected.

Regardless of what happened Monday night--the Padres absorbed a 13-6 loss--Joey Cora was to be back at second base Tuesday night. It’s his job.

“Flan knows the situation,” Bowa said. “His attitude is great. Every team should have a guy like Flannery.”

In his way, this guy Flannery has become a fixture with the Padres. He has played all or part of nine seasons with the Padres, first coming up in 1979. No one else has survived Trader Jack, free-agent signings and assorted youth movements in the 1980s.

“I took a media guide and started putting checks next to all the people I’ve played with,” Flannery mused. “It got easier to put checks by everybody I didn’t play with.”

Flannery has paid particular attention to second basemen, since that is his natural position. His census of co-tenants at that position is now at 17, Fernando Gonzalez being the first and Cora being the latest.

No matter who else has been around, Flannery has almost invariably started the season as the backup. The only time he went to spring training as the second baseman was 1981, and the Padres traded for Juan Bonilla just before the season started. Flannery was sent to the minor leagues for the beginning of the season.

His would seem to be a frustrating role, but it is one he has come to accept.

“I’ve always dreamed I could play and I’ve always believed I could play,” he said. “I’ve had some good years, and it always comes back to this same role at the start of the season. When they sent me to Hawaii in 1981, it was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. I had to fight my way back as a utility player.”

Flannery’s popularity has been rooted in this scrappiness. Nothing is appreciated more than effort and a work ethic.

“I’m a blue-collar ballplayer,” Flannery said. “I remember once I had a construction worker come up to me and tell me there were times he didn’t want to go to work, but he’d think of me and go to work anyway. That was the nicest thing he could have said.”

That’s Flannery. He goes to work.

“I want to give the fans their money’s worth,” Flannery said. “Not too many utility players get the support I’ve been given, and I love it. I can’t imagine that the fans could be any better to me if I was the star on some other club.”

Monday night’s applause would seem to indicate Tim Flannery already is a star, in his own special way. Anyone can become a star by hitting 30 home runs or stealing 60 bases or batting .350 or winning 20 games. Flannery’s special way of becoming a star was accomplished the same way he has accomplished everything else in his career.

The hard way.