Angels’ Care Package Rejected by Candelaria

Saw a cartoon the other day in which one deer is talking to another, this one with a large bull’s-eye emblazoned on his chest. Says the first deer to the second, as they stand in the forest, hunters prowling in the background: “Bummer of a birthmark, pal.”

That’s how I feel about Angel management on occasion. No matter the circumstances, it’s stuck with that bull’s-eye, available daily for verbal arrows.

Some are deserved, such as the times the Angels disposed of Rod Carew, Reggie Jackson and Doug DeCinces as if they were dampened diapers. A business decision? Fair enough. But nothing wrong with a little dignity to go with it, is there?

And the Angels aren’t exactly making friends with their best and their brightest, none other than Devon White and Wally Joyner, both embroiled in those nasty little contract disagreements. Just a guess, but if Joyner ever agrees to pose in front of Disneyland for another game-day program cover, he’ll be dressed as Grumpy.

The considerable list of accusations goes on: General Manager Mike Port has a heart the size of a pea; Manager Gene Mauch couldn’t win a pennant in a one-team league; the Angel front office is more concerned about attendance than victories. You name it, the Angels have heard it.

Until last Monday.

That’s when former Angel pitcher John Candelaria, now with the New York Yankees, informed all that his ex-employers were guilty of--gasp!--caring too much.

Wait a moment. The Angels ? Managed by the driven Mauch, The Little General and/or Dictator? . . . The team that hired Mr. Hardball (Port) and told him to keep everything low and tight? . . . The roughest, toughest hombres this side of the Rio Grande?

I thought this was the organization that wouldn’t know compassion if Mother Teresa herself flew in from Calcutta to explain its meaning. Wasn’t this the place where ogres stalked the front-office halls, where the bottom line ruled all? Surely, there must be some mistake.

Nope, said Candelaria. The Angels made him enroll at St. Joseph Hospital in Orange last season for unspecified treatment, reportedly related to alcohol dependency. Then they had the nerve to trade him to the New York Mets, a move, he said, that injured his reputation because of the rumors that accompanied it.

“It wasn’t my decision to go into therapy,” said Candelaria to The Times’ Ross Newhan. “I was forced to go by the club. I’m not saying that it wasn’t beneficial because it was in the context of the problem. I’m just saying that it wasn’t alcohol.”

Silly Angels. Candelaria only had been arrested twice on drunk driving charges (one such charge has been dismissed and the other is pending). And once, his actions prompted former teammate Don Sutton to inform police of Candelaria’s intentions to drive home after the team returned from a Detroit trip in the wee hours. Since then, Candelaria has accused Sutton of acting out of “self-preservation,” that Sutton, now with the Dodgers, was doing what he could to remain in the Angel starting rotation.

I don’t want to say Candelaria is paranoid, but isn’t he the one who says satellites can read his mail?

Candelaria is a fine pitcher; at times, a very good one. Few can question his talent, his ability to pitch with pain, his knack of pitching well when it matters most.

His life away from the field, though, has been less charmed, forever marred by the tragedy of an infant son’s death. No doubt it had a profound effect on Candelaria, and rightly so.

But to lash out at the Angels--at Mauch and Port and Sutton--serves no purpose other than to reveal a dark, brooding personality that never forgets or forgives. Rather than to look for excuses, perhaps Candelaria should have searched for solutions; the Angels did.

Actually, the Angels responded quickly and responsibly to Candelaria’s earlier problems. Though they said one decision had nothing to do with the other, they banned alcohol from the Angel charter flights and clubhouse. They placed Candelaria on the 15-day disabled list for “personal reasons” and later, after his return to the roster, asked him to attend alcohol-related counseling sessions. When Candelaria declined, the Angels placed him back on the disabled list and, in essence, insisted he undergo in-patient therapy at St. Joseph Hospital.

He went--against his will--and like it or not, left a better person. He even had some people rooting for him, too, including the villainous Sutton and Jackie Autry, a recovering alcoholic and wife of Angel owner Gene Autry.

“I am very sensitive to the problem,” said Jackie Autry last July, as Candelaria completed the 28-day program. “I still think John has a great deal to offer to baseball. If he uses his tools that he’s given, he’ll be fine.”

Maybe it’s just me, but that doesn’t sound like an organization without a conscience. After all, here’s the Angels still clinging to slim hopes for a division title and they put their second-best starter on the disabled list? Hardly the actions of a team hell-bent on winning at all costs.

We have since learned that beneath the supposed calm and quiet of the Angel clubhouse last year was a simmering controversy, complete with in-fighting and occasional threats. Candelaria vs. Sutton. Candelaria vs. Management. The Candelaria Faction vs. the Sutton Faction. It doesn’t fully explain the Angel slide to last place, but it helps. United we stand, divided we fall, and all that.

It isn’t often that the Angels are charged with outright humanitarianism. But this time they did themselves proud. Instead of mocking them, Candelaria might want to try a new tack, such as thanking them.