Angels Improve by Reaching Out, Honoring Carew

There were two standing ovations at Anaheim Stadium Tuesday night--and, no, the Angels didn’t announce they were moving to Buffalo.

There were other sights and sounds resurrected from the endangered-species list--warm words, pats on the back, hugs, handshakes and a good deal of action around home plate.

Tuesday night, the Angels celebrated their past by inducting Rod Carew into the club’s four-year-old Hall of Fame. Originally, the timing seemed rotten--didn’t Cooperstown beat the Angels to the idea two weeks ago?--but the way this year has been going, yesteryear could have never been more welcome.

The Angels seemed to need this night more than Carew.

So the crowd stood for Carew and cheered for Gene Mauch and Doug DeCinces and Bobby Grich, and lost themselves for a minute in the greatest hits of 1979 (Carew to Frank Tanana for the division-clinching out), 1982 (Luis Sanchez to Carew for the division-clinching out) and 1985 (line drive to left for Carew’s 3,000th hit), replayed again in thrilling color on the left-field scoreboard.

Watching from his seat in the Angel dugout, Carew shivered.

“Chills,” he said.

Once upon a time, the Angels had such moments. Maybe no pennants, but no sleepwalking through the cellar, either. “We had some great teams, some great players, as you saw tonight,” said DeCinces after the pregame ceremony. “Those teams had an intensity and a work ethic that was very strong. We came out and played to win.”

DeCinces then glanced up the dugout runway, where the Angels were about to lose their seventh game in a row.

“It’s unfortunate what’s happened here after that group left,” he said.

That is a byproduct of trying to rent tradition--importing it from New York and Minnesota and Milwaukee and Philadelphia--rather than building it yourself.

A half-decade ago, the Angels had a chance. From 1979 to 1986, a span of eight years, they won three American League West titles. They won with a nucleus of veterans--Carew, DeCinces, Grich, Reggie Jackson, Bob Boone, Brian Downing--who were thanked for their contribution, by and large, with indifference. With the exception of Grich, all of them left before they wanted--and they left bitterly, estranged from an organization that would have had the winning tradition of the Seattle Mariners without them.

If Richard Brown can’t bring a pennant to Anaheim, he is dedicated at least to bringing the old Angels back to Anaheim.

“It’s an absolute absurdity that four or five of the best Angels of all time are a little hesitant to come to Angel games and stop by the front office,” Brown said. “We should try to incorporate them in the organization after they leave, because the organization owes them something. We appreciate what they did for us.”

Brown said he has tried to initiate a thaw by inviting Carew, DeCinces and Boone to lunch. All of them accepted. He has talked to Carew about rejoining the Angels in some sort of coaching capacity. When he sees Carew living just up the freeway in Anaheim Hills and drawing a paycheck from the Cleveland Indians as a spring-training batting instructor, he says, “It makes you sick . . .

“When he ran out before the All-Star Game (as honorary captain of the American League) with a Cleveland uniform on, the two most surprised people in the building were myself and the president of the Minnesota Twins (Jerry Bell). We were sitting together and we just looked at each other. ‘Cleveland?’ There’s something wrong with that uniform. It just didn’t look right.”

It didn’t have to be that way. A couple of years ago, Carew approached the Angels about a possible coaching position. “It’s my understanding that the organization didn’t return his phone calls,” Brown said. “Hopefully, we can work something out with Rodney this time, but even if we don’t, I can guarantee you that when Rod Carew phones us, we’re going to return the phone call.”

Carew was the first big-name veteran Mike Port had to release, and his dismissal set the tone for the brusque, cold firings that were to follow. There was no press conference. There was barely a press release. Port made himself unavailable for comment and hoped the media would go away.

They didn’t. Criticism hounded Port until he was forced into awkwardly arranging a ‘Rod Carew Night” for the purpose of retiring his jersey. The whole affair felt half-baked and half-hearted, damage control played out in front of a half-filled stadium.

From the sidelines, Jackson watched, nearly apoplectic. “They better not ever retire my jersey,” he said. “I won’t let them.”

Remembering that night, Carew said Tuesday, that “I think, in a sense, it was awkward. They hadn’t signed me and it seemed like they were doing it to make it up to me. That’s not the way I wanted it done. It should be genuine.”

The second time around, Carew said, “was a better feeling, yeah. There were a lot of good feelings tonight. It was sincere.

“That’s why I’d like the relationship to continue and hopefully grow.”

It’s interesting how the dominoes fall. When Port released Carew after the 1985 season, the rationale was that the Angels had to clear a spot for a rookie named Wally Joyner. A rational rationale. But Carew asked for another year, claiming he would be satisfied with pinch-hitting and occasionally spelling Joyner at first base.

Suppose Port had agreed. In the 1986 AL playoffs, when Joyner was hospitalized with a then-mysterious leg infection, Mauch wouldn’t have had to platoon a second baseman (Grich) and a right fielder (George Hendrick) at first base for the last four games of the series. He’d have had a future Hall of Famer to plug into the lineup.

Hendrick batted .083 in those playoffs. Think Carew might have made some kind of difference?

“It would have been fun,” Carew said, grinning. “And I’d have done it (backed up Joyner). I felt at the time it would’ve worked. I knew I couldn’t play every day and that Wally was ready.

“But it didn’t work out.”

Maybe, now, this coaching gig will. Be the offer roving or spring-training instructor, Carew says he’s ready to listen. Brown says the Angels are ready to talk.

That, in itself, is progress. A winning tradition isn’t built in a day, but it can be furthered along by returning a few phone calls.