Despite Cold Start, Riddoch Stays Cool : Baseball: Those who know Padre manager say he can turn it around.

Sitting in the middle of the restaurant Friday afternoon, having lunch hours before his team would lose yet another game, Greg Riddoch’s eyes were transfixed.

Across the room was an aquarium containing live lobsters, and Riddoch kept looking at it until the parallel finally hit him.

“You know, he said, “that’s kind of like me. There’s a lobster sitting in cool water, just relaxing and letting the water go through its gills.

“Then, all of a sudden, someone snatches it and throws it in a pot of scalding water.

“It deadens your senses right away.”

Somehow, in the midst of all of this, Gregory Lee Riddoch still is able to laugh. Well, outwardly, at least. His insides are bubbling to a point where he already has lost five pounds, and he has been on the job only 11 days. Welcome to the Padre manager’s chair, where your dream, too, can turn into a living hell.

The Padres have won just one game since Riddoch was promoted as manager July 11, losing games in ways that have even Little League kids wincing. It has gotten so bad that instead of Riddoch consoling players, they’re consoling him.

“I feel so bad for Greg,” Padre pitcher Bruce Hurst said, “No one deserves this. We’re just playing awful, and it’s not his fault at all.”

Said first baseman Jack Clark: “It takes a lot of guts for him to take this over. I think he’s doing a super job. He’s pushing the right buttons, but we’re the ones letting him down.”

This, more than anything, reveals the respect and intimacy Riddoch has with his players. The players are well aware Riddoch was hired as a manager only through the end of the season and that managers with a .125 winning percentage don’t tend to stick around for long. But please, they say, give the man a chance.

“I really believe we have the right man for the job,” right fielder Tony Gwynn said. “It’s so tough for him to right the ship when it’s sinking, but I really believe if anyone can, it’s Greg. I know he’s not going to give up, he’ll fight to the end.”

You would think that a man who has just 10 weeks left to prove to his owners that he’s right for the job would be panicking. He should be acting as if he’s waiting a last-minute stay-of-execution call from the governor, but instead, it’s as if he’s waiting for the President to call and chit-chat. He’s been calm, almost serene, during this rash of defeats.

You want him to criticize one of his players, ripping him to sheds in the fashion that would give Dick Williams goose bumps. Uh-uh.

You want him to stand in the middle of the clubhouse and scream some sense into them, stealing a page from one of Larry Bowa’s leftover speeches. Nope.

“You’re not going to ever hear me criticize one of my players through the paper,” Riddoch said, “Never. That’s not my style. When something needs to be said, it’ll be done between me and the player, and that’s it.”

This is why, when Riddoch became so fed up with second baseman Roberto Alomar’s recent nonchalant style of play, he called him into his office, shut the door and proceeded to talk with him until after the team bus had left, benching him for two days.

Riddoch made it clear that if the players wanted to continue to make stupid mistakes on the field, go ahead, but they’ll have to keep opening their wallets every time, too. He installed a Kangaroo Court, complete with three judges, with all fines going to the San Diego Children’s’ Hospital. At the rate fines are being assessed, the hospital should be renamed in the Padres’ honor any day now.

He has had separate meetings with Clark and Gwynn, trying to repress the clubhouse feuds and cliques. He also is meeting individually with each player on the team, listening to their complaints, annoyances and suggestions.

It’s going to take time, maybe more than Padre fans imagine, but inroads are being made into the heart of the team’s problems.

It’s still unknown, of course, just how long Riddoch will be able to continue his first-aid effort. He has a managerial contract through the end of the season. If Padre chairman Tom Werner likes what he sees, he’ll exercise the option that will pay Riddoch about $180,000 next season. If Werner wants someone else, Riddoch has been guaranteed that he will continue as a coach, for about $100,000 less.

“Everything seems to be going wrong right now,” Werner said, “but I’m not going to judge Greg on some of the problems he inherited.

“He’s very clearly a guy who is aware of the problems on the team, and has some solutions to solve them. I feel this is a step in the right direction. He’s a good motivator and teacher, and I think he’s in the mold of a Tom Trebelhorn (of Milwaukee) and Tony LaRussa (of Oakland).

“I believed in Greg when we chose him. And I still believe in him.”

Funny, that’s what everybody’s saying about the guy.

“He has a wonderful way of making life enjoyable for people surrounding him,” said Tom Runnells, third base coach of the Montreal Expos, who played for Riddoch in high school. “I’ve never seen anything like it. He has a way of getting people to enjoy coming to the park and wanting to work, but he has the ability to get everything out of youngsters and veterans.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll turn around that team. Once they get going, there’s no looking back.”

Riddoch, who has spent his life working in almost every facet of baseball, seems to make an indelible impression on everyone he encounters. Why else would a man receive 55 congratulatory messages on his hotel phone the night he received the job, and about 40 more calls and telegrams the next day?

There was one man in particular who was so exuberant at the news that he thought he was going to cry. His name?

Eric Davis, All-Star outfielder of the Cincinnati Reds.

They first met in 1981. Davis had just graduated from Fremont High School, an inner-city school in Los Angeles, and was leaving home for the first time in his life. He went to Eugene, Ore., where he was assigned as an eighth-round draft choice of Cincinnati.

Well, after batting .219 with one homer and 11 RBIs in 33 games, Davis wanted out. He had basketball scholarships awaiting at Arizona State and Pepperdine. Who needed this aggravation?

“I was really unhappy,” he said. “But every day he kept talking to me. He kept telling me not to give up. I think everybody was down on me, but Greg, he not only battled for me, he went to war for me.

“He’s made such an impression on me that he’ll always be special in my life. He’s like a part of family now. I’d do anything for that man.

“Let me put it like this, if it wasn’t for Greg Riddoch, I wouldn’t be here today.

“It’s that simple.”

Almost 10 years to the day after Riddoch first managed him in short-season Class-A ball, Davis will face Riddoch the manager for first time Monday in San Diego.

And who knows just what would have happened if Davis had known Riddoch would manage the Padres? Would Davis still have signed a three-year, $9million contract in the off-season? Or would he have waited until the end of the season and signed with the Padres as a free agent, curing their center-field woes.

“Hey, don’t ask me that one, that’s a tough one,” Davis said, laughing. “Well, let me put it this way, if Lou (Piniella) had not been here, and Pete (Rose) had stayed here, I think it would have been a strong possibility I would have gone there.”

Perhaps the secret to understanding Riddoch’s charm with people who come in contact with him is looking at this background.

This is a self-made man through and through. Life never has been easy. He never knew his real father and wasn’t close to his stepfather. He was reared in California and attended Garden Grove High School.

For those of the ’63 graduating class who are trying to remember him, take out your yearbook and look under the name of Greg Bezlij. That was the last name of his stepfather. It wasn’t until several years later that he reverted to his natural father’s name.

Even today, Riddoch isn’t the most publicized graduate of the class. A fellow by the name of Steve Martin, the comedian/actor, also happened to be part of it.

“You know, I didn’t even know he was so famous,” Riddoch said, “until my sister called me up one night and said to turn on Johnny Carson. There he was. Hosting ‘The Tonight Show.’ I said, ‘Geez, you’ve got to be kidding me.’

“This was the same guy that was a prankster all through high school. One time we had a substitute teacher in chemistry class. He told him pull this chain, that it was a bell, and everybody would come to class.

“So he pulled it, and a bucket of water fell all over him.

“Who’d have thought that someone would pay him to be a crack-up?”

Riddoch went off to the University of Northern Colorado on a baseball and basketball scholarship and four years later was drafted and signed by Cincinnati.

“He was a home-run hitter in college, but when we saw him, I don’t remember him hitting a single one,” said Dick Poole, who’s now the Chicago Cubs’ pitching coach. “He wasn’t what we called a tough out.”

Said Jimmy Hoff, his minor league roommate in 1968: “We were middle infielders together. I played second, and Greg played shortstop. He knew everything that he was doing wrong, but he just couldn’t correct. Besides, another shortstop came along at the same time, and he shot by all of us.

“His name was Davey Concepcion.”

Riddoch spent six years in the minors chasing his dream, which by his account was two years too long. He finally quit and became a teacher at Greeley High, where he helped run everything from the band to school plays to baseball to Special Olympics basketball.

Bob Howsam, the Reds’ farm director, telephoned Riddoch one month later and asked him if he would manage one of their minor league teams during his summer months. Why not? Riddoch spent each summer managing in the Northwest League. When he was promoted to assistant principal and didn’t have enough time to manage, he became a regional scouting supervisor.

Then one day, after watching an American Legion game in Butte, Mont., he returned to his hotel room and received a message from Howsam, who had retired in 1978 from the Reds.

Howsam: “They’re going to let (General Manager) Dick Wagner go tomorrow. I want to refine the Big Red Machine, and I want you to be part of it.”

Riddoch wasn’t sure what to do. He hated to uproot his family. But the more he listened, the more excited he became. Howsam was going to groom him to be the next general manager and was so sincere that he was offering him a three-year guaranteed contract totaling $180,000. When you’re making $28,000 as a teacher, the decision becomes quite simple.

Everything went fine for two years. Riddoch vaulted through the system, from assistant director of player development and scouting to the minor league director and had been told that in four months, he’d be assistant general manager.

Well, that changed on July 7, 1985. Howsam was called in for a meeting with new owner Marge Schott, and it lasted more than 12 hours. By the time Howsam came to Riddoch’s house that night for a barbecue, it was 10 o’clock.

“I knew something was wrong,” Riddoch said. “He was just so quiet the whole night.”

Howsam announced his retirement the next day. Schott became the new president and chief operating officer, Riddoch a lame duck.

“There was no way she was going to keep me around,” Riddoch said. “Anyone who was brought in by Howsam was going to be out. We were all on our way out.”

Riddoch still had a year left on his contract, but he made it easy on her. He resigned effective Dec. 31, 1985. He was going to work in the Seattle Mariners organization.

Well, just a few weeks before he was getting ready for the move, he was told the job wasn’t available after all.

Now what was he going to do? He already had resigned from Cincinnati. And in a few weeks, his paychecks would be stopping.

Much to Riddoch’s surprise, his reputation worked for him, and offers started coming in from all directions. It was Tom Romenesko, Padre director of player development, who finally wooed him. He started work on Jan. 1, 1986, as associate director of minor league and scouting. In seven weeks, he came director of the department. In eight months, he became a coach on Larry Bowa’s staff. And now, after 3 1/2 years as coach, he’s the 13th manager of the Padres.

“Kind of makes you dizzy, doesn’t it?” Riddoch said. “My feet still aren’t on the ground.

“Who’d have thought a guy like me would be doing this?”

The only time anyone from the Padre organization even mentioned to Riddoch the possibility he might become manager was during spring training.

Jack McKeon, who was manager and vice president/baseball operations, said to Riddoch: “You know, one day, I think you’re going to be manager.”

Riddoch: “Thanks, but, uh, if you don’t mind, let’s don’t even talk about that stuff. I just want to concentrate on coaching.”

McKeon agreed not to bring it up again, and Riddoch walked away thinking that in three or four years, maybe he would be manager.

“Now, here I am,” Riddoch said, “feeling absolutely naked. But I think everything will work out, I really do.

“Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be. Maybe the Good Lord is saying, ‘Greg, I never said this would be easy, but I believe you’re the right man. I’ve tested you before, and I’m testing you now.’

“I’ll tell you what, He’s doing a pretty good job of it, isn’t He?”