CRUNCH TIME FOR COOKIE : With Rojas as Their Manager, the Angels Are More Relaxed--but They Continue to Lose

It was Havana, 1959. Cookie Rojas was 20 and playing second base for the Havana Sugar Kings of the International League in the Junior World Series against the Minneapolis Millers, managed by Gene Mauch.

“I met Cookie and Fidel Castro at the same time,” Mauch said in reflection. “In all honesty, Fidel made the more immediate impression.”

Rojas, however, eventually made the more lasting impression:

--As a versatile infielder with Mauch’s Philadelphia Phillies, a player who practiced harder and more meaningfully, Mauch said, than any other he ever managed.

--As an advance scout during Mauch’s tenures as Angel manager, adding to the knowledge that prompted Mauch to recommend Rojas as his replacement at the Angel helm in March.

“Cookie played like he practiced,” Mauch said. “He was always very well prepared. He had average speed, marginal power and marvelous hands. He worked at becoming adept at situation baseball.

“If the ball had to be bunted, if it had to be directed with the bat, he could do it against any and all people. I only saw one second baseman better at getting the lead runner on the force play and that was Jerry Coleman, who was a master at it.

“Cookie practiced better than any player I ever had. He made himself into a winning player and a successful player.”

But who could have practiced for the situation in which Rojas, 49, now finds himself? Can he be a winner? Can he be successful again?

The Angels finished last in the American League West under Mauch last year and, under Rojas, are proving it was no fluke. Will Rojas survive to make another lasting impression?

“I’m no Houdini,” he said recently, but he has faced long odds before--not only in getting to this time and place but in overcoming limited ability to forge a 16-year playing career during which he was an All-Star in both of the major leagues.

“I have confidence in myself,” he said. “I can’t think any other way. I have to believe I’ll be successful enough to get the time that will allow me to help implement our plans for the Angels.”

His plans?

Said his wife, Candy: “It has always been his dream to manage in the major leagues, and when he got this job I said to him, ‘Well, you’ve reached your goal, do you have a new one now?’

“And he said: ‘Yes, I want to be the first manager to bring the California Angels to the World Series.’

“I said: ‘Let’s go. Let’s do it.’ I reminded him that if you’re persistent and have faith in yourself, you can get it done.”

Octavio Rivas (Cookie) Rojas and Candida Rosa (Candy) Boullon have been friends since they were in fourth grade together in Havana. They have been married since Feb. 28, 1960.

Two of their four sons were born when Rojas was managing in winter ball. Baseball has dominated their lives to the extent that Candy Rojas often reads a rule book or other baseball material before turning her light off at night.

“He made a decision to make baseball his career and is proud of what he has done in it,” she said of her husband. “He’s tried different avenues, but it doesn’t work for him. He has to be involved in baseball.”

A restaurant venture failed in Kansas City. Life insurance sales gave him a measure of satisfaction, but only temporarily.

Jim Bunning, a Kentucky Congressman and a former Phillie teammate, said: “What I remember about Cookie is that he regarded baseball as his profession and he worked at it as any dedicated professional would. He was always serious when he was playing or talking about baseball.”

There are those who have cited the dedication and seriousness as evidence that Rojas is a Mauch clone, that if Mauch, his manager with the Phillies from 1963 through ’68 and a longtime friend, was the Little General, Rojas is a Generalissimo.

The portrait seems inaccurate.

Mauch admittedly couldn’t leave the game at the park. He was haunted by losses and incapable of accepting the proposition that all teams are going to lose at least a third of their games. His intensity level should have been tracked by Caltech.

There was expected to be a more relaxed atmosphere under Rojas, less pressure for the younger players, perhaps, and that seems to be the case.

Many of the Angels do not believe that they could have initiated their new kangaroo court as a clubhouse outlet under Mauch.

“I think it’s the type atmosphere where he trusts everyone on the ballclub,” Wally Joyner said of Rojas. “He accepts the fact that we’re trying.

“He really only asks that you hustle, be on time and show the manager the same respect that you want the manager to show you.”

Said pitcher Chuck Finley: “Cookie can get in your face, but he’s also very patient. He’ll give you every chance to prove yourself. There were even times in winter ball when he’d take players out for a beer to get to know them in a different environment.”

The point being that Rojas and Mauch may be more dissimilar than similar.

“I think we’re different entirely,” Rojas said. “I dislike to lose as much as anyone and I’ll replay the game in my mind to see what we could have done better, but when I leave the park, I try to leave it there. You can’t bring the past back, only improve on it.

“I may have been hard-headed when I was younger, but I grew to realize that it’s better in most cases to wait until your head clears before saying something rather than saying the wrong thing in anger.”

Said Candy Rojas: “Cookie replays most of the games on our video at home, but he doesn’t talk about them, he doesn’t torture himself and that’s good. Even when he was playing and had a bad streak, even when he didn’t have a hit for 20 or 21 at bats, he didn’t bring it home with him.”

What he brought home was a desire to play. His father, head of supplies at the university hospital in Havana, made Rojas promise before signing with the Sugar Kings that he would attend college if he failed. Cuba was a baseball hotbed then, as it is now, only the doors were open.

“There is still as much talent in Cuba as there is in the Dominican Republic,” said Preston Gomez, Angel executive who was born in Cuba and has long been a father figure to Rojas.

“If Fidel changed his policy, there would be 15 to 20 Cubans playing in the major leagues within 10 years.”

Most came out of Cuba with flair and style, but Rojas kept it simple. Even now, his only touch of flamboyance is a diamond studded bracelet that reads Cuqui, a common Cuban nickname that was anglicized to Cookie.

“I had five or six infielders who could do more things,” Gomez said of Rojas and the Sugar Kings. “But he worked hard, played with intelligence and always seemed to find an edge.”

Rojas came to the United States with the Cincinnati Reds’ organization in 1956. He made $125 a month, ate mostly hot dogs, splurged $1.25 on the deluxe dinner at Morrison’s Cafeteria in West Palm Beach every Sunday.

That was a time when farm systems were still packed with 400 to 500 players and 15 to 20 teams. Rojas spent six years in the minors, then opened the 1962 season at second base for the Reds. In fact, he helped initiate Dodger Stadium with a 6-3 Cincinnati victory, setting up a key run by grounding to the right side of the infield, characteristic of how he responded to what Mauch called situation baseball.

A few days later, in a game against the Dodgers at Crosley Field, Rojas collected his first major league hit, lining a single to center off Sandy Koufax. “Anybody else and I probably would have forgotten,” Rojas said. “Being it was Koufax, I’ll never forget.”

Nor is Mauch likely to forget how he acquired Rojas at the winter meetings of that year in Rochester, N.Y.

“I was sitting at a table in Johnny Antonelli’s restaurant with (Cincinnati Manager) Fred Hutchinson and Bob Lemon,” he said. “I had permission from (General Manager) John Quinn to trade just about anybody on the roster and I whispered to Hutch, ‘I’ll give you (pitcher) Jim Owens for Cookie Rojas.’

“Hutch asked for 15 minutes, then came back and tried to get me to take Don Zimmer instead of Rojas. I told him that I didn’t want Zimmer, and he said, ‘OK, you’ve got Cookie.’

“Now, we’ve just made this monumental deal in which nobody knows who Cookie Rojas is and Hutch says, ‘Who’s going to have the guts to announce it?’ He also says, ‘I think you should throw in some money.’ I said, ‘How much?’ He says, ‘Four bits.’

“So I took out a dollar bill, ripped it in half and gave him half, which is how we got Cookie Rojas for Jim Owens and half a buck.”

In seven seasons with the Phillies, Rojas performed well enough to be elected the franchise’s all-time second baseman in a vote of the fans.

Recalled Bunning: “Cookie wasn’t much of a hitter when he came to the Phillies, but he made himself into a .300 hitter. He learned quickly, faster than most.”

Those were the days of Wine and Rojas, though Rojas generally played second when Ruben Amaro was at shortstop, leaving Bobby Wine to team with Tony Taylor.

Rojas also played the eight other positions as a Phillie. He pitched one inning against the San Francisco Giants in 1967 and retired Willie Mays on an outfield fly.

In 1964, when the Phillies staged their infamous collapse, losing their last 10 games and a 6 1/2-game lead, Rojas enjoyed his first big season, batting .291.

“No one gave us a chance in spring training,” he said. “We were a young, inexperienced team, and we all ended up having great years before we had that one bad streak that Gene took a lot of unfair criticism for. Some unbelievable things happened at the end that he had no control over.”

Rojas eventually went to the St. Louis Cardinals as part of the trade in which Curt Flood refused to report to the Phillies and was replaced by Willie Montanez. A year later, Rojas was traded to an expansion team, the Kansas City Royals. Then 31, he considered retiring, decided against it and played eight more seasons, making the American League All-Star team four times.

In the end, after almost two decades in the majors, having overcome the contention that he couldn’t hit or run well enough to stick, Rojas could look back on a playing career in which he:

--Became only the ninth player in baseball history to make the All-Star team in both leagues.

--Was voted into the Phillie, Royal and Cuban halls of fame.

--Batted .263 overall and set a variety of club and league fielding records.

While all that was going on, Cookie and Candy brought several dozen relatives here from Cuba--only his half-brother remains--and eventually became American citizens in 1973.

“For a guy they said couldn’t play, I think I did a pretty good job,” Rojas said. “Every scout who came out looking for prospects for the expansion teams said I had good hands and was a good fielder but couldn’t hit. I had to be aggressive. I had to teach myself how to bunt and hit and run and hit behind the runner.

“The more they said no, the more I told myself yes. Either you quit or work harder. I took so many ground balls in Cincinnati that the coaches became too tired to swing the bat.

“When I was asked if I could play center field I said yes. When I was asked if I could play third base, I said yes. I never said no. My versatility helped and so did Gene’s trust.

“Tony Gonzalez got kicked out of a game at Dodger Stadium and Gene threw an outfield glove at me and said, ‘You’re in left field.’ From that day on he used me all over the place.

“I came in with a reputation of not being able to hit and I developed a reputation as a winning player who would do anything and play anywhere to help you win, who could not only contribute with his bat and glove but with the experience he passed along to the other players. And the more I played, the more determined I became to remain in the game when I retired.”

In the press box at Anaheim Stadium, the Angel beat writers say that losing has seemed to strain Rojas’ normal affability and accessibility to the point that he recently described those writers as negative and now responds with terse answers. They bemoan what they call a “quote gap,” Rojas’ inability to string quotes together the way Mauch could.

It is another kind of gap, however, that could prove fatal to Rojas as the Angel manager. A team that both he and General Manager Mike Port said was capable of winning the division title has done nothing with consistency except lose and play bad defense.

Mauch lurks in the background, and there has already been outrageous speculation that catcher Bob Boone will become a player-manager, or that Jim Fregosi will return as manager.

Rojas, however, does not appear to be intimidated. He has done what he believes is necessary--sometimes with quick hooks for the pitcher or debatable pinch-hitting or the insistence on roster moves that replace a proven hitter such as Bill Buckner with pinch-runner Junior Noboa, who is employed so infrequently that he will never become a senior. Injuries and slumps have shelved his plans for a set lineup, and irratic baserunnig--the Angels have stolen 23 bases but have been caught 16 times--has turned the green lights to red.

But in playing for Hutchinson and Mauch and Whitey Herzog and Lemon. “The one thing they had in common was that they managed aggressively,” Rojas said. “They did what they had to do to win, regardless of opinion.”

Said Mauch: “Everyone brings in the wrong pitcher at times. Everyone stays with a pitcher too long. In Cookie’s case, the players will understand the reasons that dictate the moves and give him credit for knowing what’s going on.

“I honestly believe that his strong point will be the realization on the part of his players that he knows the game.”

If the players appreciate the loose atmosphere, there are some who think it may be too loose and that the club needs a leader, a Don Baylor-type enforcer among the players. Inevitably, there are also people who will say that Rojas should have managed in the minors before attempting to manage in the majors.

Gomez has known Rojas since their days with the Sugar Kings. He talked Cookie out of retiring when he was traded to Kansas City. He helped get him a coaching job with the Chicago Cubs when Herman Franks went looking for a Latin to join his staff. He later recommended Rojas as an advance scout for the Angels. He also tried to talk Rojas into taking a minor league position whenever they discussed his desire to manage.

“Cookie always said that he couldn’t afford it economically, that he made a better salary as a coach or scout and by living off his expenses he could maintain his home in Miami without having to get another,” Gomez said.

Said Rojas: “I played 16 years in the big leagues. I scouted for nine years. I know the personnel in both leagues. I also managed in the winter leagues for 20 years and that’s an advantage because you’re taking veterans and rookies from different organizations and trying to mold them into a winning team in a shorter amount of a time.

“I don’t think I missed anything by not managing in the minors.”

There is a definitive test, of course.

Mauch cited it when he said: “Everyone in the world thinks they can manage until they get the job. I think time will prove that Cookie can.”

Assuming, of course, that Cookie gets the time.