SPEAKING THE SAME LANGUAGE : He Has Heard Basics Before, but When Griffin Talks, Duncan Seems to Pick It Up

The lesson always begins at high noon around second base, the two players silhouetted by intense tropical sunshine. For some time, they remain rooted in the same spots, as if posing in a window display. One affects various stances and speaks rapidly; the other nods occasionally, only rarely taking his eyes off his partner.

It’s another spring, which means it’s time again for “The Education of Mariano Duncan.”

It’s an annual occurrence, but this spring, the Dodgers are hoping that the vocational counseling will work. This time, the Dodgers have assigned Duncan a teacher whom they acquired at great personnel expense--veteran shortstop Alfredo Griffin.

The message is not much different than before, but the messenger is. A Dominican, as is Duncan, Griffin is a solid fielder, competent hitter and an intense competitor. In other words, all the things Duncan is not.

Each day, Griffin shows Duncan the moves around second base, where Duncan may eventually battle Steve Sax for the starting spot. Griffin emphasizes work-ethic principles and dispenses tips on bunting and hitting for average. Duncan has heard it all before.

Reclining in the shade of a golf cart, Dodger Manager Tom Lasorda watched the Dominican duo at work and explained why he continues to believe that Duncan’s outstanding rookie season as a shortstop in 1985 was not some sort of freakish phenomenon.

“If you tell a guy something 100 times and he still doesn’t get it, what do you do?” Lasorda asked. “Tell him once more. If you tell him 200 times and he doesn’t get it, tell him once more. Maybe he’ll get what you’re saying the 201st time.

“All guys are different. Some get what you tell them the first time and adjust and you never have to worry about it again. But for some, it takes a long time.”

It has taken patience by the truckload, as well as a lot of Dr. Frank Jobe’s skill, to help Duncan. Lasorda has played both instructor and motivator, but obviously hasn’t made a lasting impression. Manny Mota continues to serve as Duncan’s hitting coach and father confessor. Infield coach Bill Russell has hit ground balls to Duncan, ad nauseam.

Now, it is Griffin’s turn, and optimism has never been stronger. Maybe that’s because Griffin has been in Duncan’s position, literally and figuratively.

The American League’s rookie of the year when he hit .287 in 1979 for the Toronto Blue Jays, Griffin failed to repeat his initial success the next two seasons, hitting only .254 and .209. He fell into bad habits, occasionally groused. He worked it out on his own, however, and has had a productive career with Toronto and the Oakland Athletics before coming to the Dodgers as part of the Bob Welch trade.

“From what I’ve seen here, Mariano doesn’t have any problems,” Griffin said. “But maybe he’s had the same problems I had. I thought every year would be like the first for me, but the other teams get to know you and you have to adjust.”

That was the first thing Griffin told Duncan when they met in Santo Domingo over the winter, at the Dodgers’ request. Griffin used positive reinforcement, presenting a glowing scenario of Duncan’s career. But only if he worked at it.

“Alfredo said to me that Mariano Duncan can be a superstar,” Duncan said. “He tells me to ask him if I have any questions. I try to stay as close to him as I can.”

Dodger coaches have modest dreams for Duncan these days. A superstar would be ideal, but a reliable, durable infielder would be enough to please those in charge.

The baffling thing about Duncan, who has shown flashes of brilliance, is that his retention level apparently deserts him at the conclusion of spring training. At times during the last two seasons, Duncan has seemed inert.

The more the Dodgers instructed Duncan, the more he resisted, either subconsciously or deliberately. He often pouted in the clubhouse, was frequently injured and, in one game, made three errors in one inning.

Asked why he never really followed through on such fundamental instruction as hitting down on the ball, hitting to the opposite field and drag bunting, Duncan shrugged.

Apparently, it baffles him, too.

“I try to do what they say, and I get frustrated,” Duncan said. “I want to tell you the truth. I was real down (last season). I’ve had a couple of bad years. I remember the good year I had in 1985 and everybody waiting for me to get better in 1986.

“In ‘87, too, they looked for the new Mariano, but I didn’t do it. What I have in my mind this year is to show everybody I can play this game.”

Motivation this year has come to Duncan in several forms. In no particular order, they are pride, money, a bride, fear of failure and the presence of Alfredo Griffin.

“(Griffin) told me the problems I’ve had, he’s had before,” Duncan said. “He said to me, ‘You have the ability, a good arm and you need to work on it.’ He said for me to be patient, don’t try to do too much. Don’t try to hit the ball in the air, hit it on the ground. Try to hit the ball the other way, because there is no way with my speed that a shortstop backhanding a ball can throw me out. Alfredo said that.”

Those are the same things Lasorda, Mota and others have been saying to Duncan for several years.

“Maybe he finally realizes it,” Mota said. “Alfredo does all those things better than him. Mariano’s working. He’s got to do it in games. He gets frustrated too much. He needs to concentrate more.

“He can pick up things from Griffin. But I think Mariano has done things on his own, too. His temper has settled down, he seems to enjoy (baseball) more.”

That may be the influence of Duncan’s bride, Jackie, whom he married in November. “She tells me I have to change, or I won’t make it,” he said.

Then, there are the monetary considerations.

“The only way you can make money is to play the game,” Duncan said. “A lot of people ask me how much I make, and I tell them $200,000. And they say I can make more with the ability I have, maybe $700,000. But you have to play, not get injured or go to the minors.

“That’s why I’m concentrating on everything. If I do something wrong in batting practice, I go to the cages and work on it until I get it right.”

Even if Duncan finally gets his act together, though, he may not be the Dodgers’ second baseman. The Dodgers’ infield is in limbo, and Sax will probably wind up back at second if Jeff Hamilton proves he can hit well enough to win the job at third or if Guerrero, who made his spring debut at third Tuesday, takes the job.

“This is the first time I’ve had to work for a job,” Duncan said. “I want to show them I can play second base. Because when you play second base, you’re more relaxed. There’s not as much to worry about. It makes you think too much at short, and you can get injured easier.

“Alfredo, I look up to him because he can handle shortstop, no problem. He (usually) plays in all 162 games, and that’s great for a shortstop. He’s the type of player I want to be. That’s why I stick around him so much.”

Griffin is not helping Duncan only out of altruism or loyalty to a fellow Dominican. He is going to have to play with either Duncan or Sax at second, and incompetence will not be tolerated.

So far, he likes what he has seen of Duncan.

“He’s got everything a second baseman needs,” Griffin said. “The biggest thing is having quick hands and feet, and you can’t teach that. I’m the type of player who likes to share his thoughts with teammates, especially those who are my partners.”

Nearly all of the conversing between Griffin and Duncan is done either in Spanish or the international baseball language, which consists of a series of laughs, grunts and yelps.

“Speaking Spanish is easier for me during a game,” Griffin said. “For me to say something in English, I have to think twice before I speak. I’d rather say it in Spanish, because then I know I’m saying it right.”

If Duncan picks up Griffin’s work habits and attitude, the Dodgers will be thrilled. Griffin, 31, has played in all 162 games in four of the last six seasons, playing despite injuries and illness. Last season, however, he started only 137 games because of a sprained ligament in his left thumb, which he said still bothers him a little.

But that didn’t stop Griffin from once again playing in the Dominican winter league. He is one of the few established major league players who regularly play.

Griffin watched his father go to work on a loading dock each morning and saw him come home exhausted at night. He also saw his mother working nine hours a day for the local school district.

“I didn’t have anything,” said Griffin, whose father died last year. “I come from a poor family. I got everything from baseball. Big difference now. I’m the head of the family. I have to take care of everybody. I got to work harder, fight to maintain my ability.

“Rod Carew was the man who gave me the idea of trying to play every day. When I was playing amateur ball as a kid, I played for free, and I enjoyed the game then. Why not enjoy it now, when I’m making a living from it? I don’t have to buy my own shoes or glove anymore. So, I should try to play every day, even when I’m not feeling well.

“People ask me why I play winter every year. It just keeps me in shape, so that when I come to the States I feel ready. If you look at it, you’ve got a lot of time off (during the season). You only play a few hours a day. I don’t want the guys to think I’m trying to be Superman or something, but it’s true.”

Depending upon how quickly Duncan responds to his new tutor, Griffin may have a new full-time job.