Through It All, Rojas Is Still a Loyal Angel

It’s easy to find Cookie Rojas these days.

All you have to do is leave about 30,000 phone messages at his hotel in Sarasota, call his home in Miami until family members start dropping initials--like FBI--and visit many a Grapefruit League game, all in hopes of sighting the elusive former Angel manager who, by the way, is back as the team’s major league special assignments scout.

About the only person I didn’t call was Leonard Nimoy and his crack “In Search Of . . . “ team. Leonard and the fellas are great at tracking down ancient Incan landing strips in Peru, but this was Cookie Rojas we were talking about.

And then it happened: He called.

“I’m doing the advance work on four clubs in Florida: the White Sox (the Angels’ opening-day opponents), the Texas Rangers, the Kansas City Royals and the Minnesota Twins,” Rojas said.

His tone was terse. He sounded suspicious, as if he weren’t all that happy about being found.

Who could blame him? The Angels dumped him as if he were the evening garbage. They didn’t just fire him; they humiliated him with an ill-conceived decision that resulted in Rojas’ release with just eight games remaining. Eight games.

Instead of thanking Rojas, they thumped him. Instead of patting him on the back, they pushed him out the trap door.

Rojas was there when the Angels needed a last-minute replacement for Gene Mauch. He was there when they needed someone to guide a team headed for double-digit injuries. He was there when they congratulated themselves on a remarkable 48-28 run from mid-June to early September.

Then, on Sept. 22, he was gone. Poof.

Inspired by the appointment of interim manager Moose Stubing, the Angels then went on to finish like the champions everyone knew them to be.

They went 0-8.

Nothing against newly named Manager Doug Rader, but Angel management should have kept Rojas, invited him to the winter meetings, given him a chance to reshape a team desperate for a good kneading, let him make his own spring training cuts and then judged his ability to guide a team.

In short, present him with a legitimate chance to succeed, similar to the one Rader is receiving.

The Angels tried to apologize in their own clumsy way. They offered Rojas his old job back, and Rojas, displaying more loyalty than the Angels ever gave him, accepted the proposal.

So here he is, visiting chilled Florida ballparks, assessing players, charting pitchers, determining defensive skills, pinpointing offensive weaknesses--ironically, doing all the things he had asked Rader to consider doing last year.

That’s right--Rader.

“He was the first guy I contacted,” Rojas said. “I asked him if he would be my advance scout.”

Rader declined, citing family commitments. Now a year later, it is Rojas who does the advance work for you-know-who.

Rojas is hesitant to talk about the events of 1988, especially the events of late September. “Water under the bridge,” he said. And bitter tasting water at that.

But there were moments, special ones, too. His first lineup card. His first victory. That unexpected winning streak. Even his first loss merits a place in his memory.

“I think, under the circumstances, I did a very good job,” he said. “The one thing I’m very proud of is that they gave me 100% effort.”

Too bad Angel management couldn’t have done the same. Rojas and his lineup card needed a trade or, at the very least, understanding, to counteract the rash of injuries. Instead, Rojas got Thad Bosley and lots of Edmonton Trappers.

Later on, he got one other thing: a pink slip.

If I were Rojas, I’d think about retribution. I’d think about some creative editing. You want a scouting report? I’ll give you a scouting report.

Kirby Puckett? Hates fastballs right down the middle of the plate . . . hee, hee, hee.

Bobby Witt? Can’t throw a lick. Look for lots of changeups.

Bo Jackson? No power. Can’t run, either.

Ozzie Guillen? He’s a helluva bad defensive shortstop.

Then again, I’ve always been the vindictive sort.

Rojas isn’t so jaded. He said he considered his tenure, however brief, invaluable.

“I think it helped me a lot,” he said. “There’s not too many people who get a chance to manage in the big leagues.”

And if all goes well, Rojas hopes one day to receive another chance, this time under more favorable circumstances.

In the meantime, he scouts and plays the happy soldier. And, if you can believe it, roots, roots for the old home team, the Angels.

“The honest-to-God truth is that there’s nothing I’d like to see more than the ballclub to be successful,” he said. “I still feel that same way. If I didn’t feel that way, do you think I’d return to the organization?”

With you, Cookie--no. Never you.

Though we wouldn’t blame you if you did.