Newbury Oaks’ Fick Wins Title but Few Fans : American Legion: Brash coach bows out with a style that injected excitement but antagonized many.

He did it his way.

He did it the hard way.

Coach Chuck Fick rode into town wearing a black cap and proceeded to spend his six days at the American Legion World Series in Fargo, N.D., raising the eyebrows of Legionnaires and the blood pressure of the opposition.

Fick was charming, brash, entertaining and obnoxious, depending on which side of the dugout rail a person sat on.

Fick called his Newbury Oaks team, which won the Series championship with a stunning doubleheader sweep Sunday, the “Bad News Bears,” but it was he who made for interesting reading in the newspapers.

A Fargo reporter wrote that Fick “breathed life into a constant array of boring press conferences,” and that he was “a reporter’s dream and the Legion’s nightmare.” Few disputed either assertion.

In fact, before the tournament was over, the talkative coach touched on a variety of topics in the media interview room, including religion, his role as team counselor, Billy Martin, AIDS and his views on abortion. Writers had trouble telling whether he was serious or pulling their legs.

Fick changed direction like a knuckleball in a crosswind and was just as unpredictable.

On the field, Fick seemed to delight in getting under the skin of the opposition. He spoke Spanish to the coaches of Guaynabo, Puerto Rico, who filed a million-to-one protest regarding Newbury Oaks’ uniforms to get even. The protest was denied.

He stole the signs of the team from Gonzales, La. He hit a ball over the fence in left with his fungo bat before his team’s games. As usual, he wore uniform No. 1, which made him stand out even more.

And he delighted in providing the daily details of his travails at postgame press conferences. After a 6-5 victory over Gonzales in an elimination game Friday--Newbury Oaks had trailed, 5-0, after two innings--Fick proclaimed it his best managing job of the year. Four or five times.

Said Gonzales Coach Wade Simoneaux, rolling his eyes and waxing sarcastic: “I’m sure he’s the greatest manager in the country. And he’ll be the first one to tell you that.”

Fick stuck out like a sore thumb, and he thumbed his nose at convention.

Legion officials, a stodgy lot, quickly grew tired of Fick’s clowning. After the Gonzales game, Fick was called onto the carpet by national Legion baseball Commissioner Jim Quinlan and told to tone down his approach.

Fick agreed. On Saturday, Quinlan said a Legion official was stationed near the Newbury Oaks dugout to ensure that Fick, 36, kept his word. Quinlan said he told Fick that if there was another unsportsmanlike incident--for instance, Fick had been seen making a vulgar gesture in response to various taunts from the fans and the opposition--he would be the first coach in Series history to be sent home.

Chuck had almost become a verb. Fick had nearly conjugated the name of the tournament site: Fargo, Fargoing, Fargone.

“I feel like I’m under a microscope,” Fick said at midweek. “These people are all over me.”

Without a doubt, he was scrutinized, though some of the attention was unsolicited. He first brought attention to the team the day before the tournament when he confidently told a TV news crew that Newbury Oaks was the team to beat.

The local paper, the Fargo Forum, dubbed Fick “Coach Hollywood” in a headline before the tournament began and told readers of Fick’s many bit parts in movies and TV shows.

Legion folks would have preferred a more downbeat, humble approach. Quinlan, curious about Fick’s film background, asked another Legion official which movies Fick had appeared in.

Said the official: “Well, he was the catcher in ‘The Naked Gun.’ ”

Quipped Quinlan: “I thought he was the horse’s . . . in ‘Ben Hur.’ ”

Even the local fans targeted Fick for abuse, especially after the news of his sit-down with Quinlan became common knowledge in the grandstands. Several fans chanted that California was the “land of fruits and nuts.” Fick was booed when he accepted the Legion leadership award Sunday, which is given to the coach of the winning team.

“It’s all about protecting the team,” Fick said. “A good manager will take the heat off his ballclub. Any time you can get the opposing players and coaches to hate the coach and not the players, it makes it easier.

“It worked out perfect.”

Fick was wounded by his characterization as the bad guy but defended many of his tactics as being part of the game.

As one reporter noted, Fick’s colorful comments and behavior would be commonplace in a major league locker room. But in Fargo, that’s a different story.

“I’m not a puppet and I admit it,” said Fick, who played professionally at the triple-A level. “I’m a little half-cocked and crazy, but you have to be.

“It’s not a lack of respect; I respect everybody in the game. I’m not a bad guy.”

Fick, who founded the team last summer, said he will not return as coach next season, and there is considerable doubt whether there will be a team. Only outfielder Jamal Nichols and shortstop David Lamb have remaining Legion eligibility in 1993.

“Hopefully, somebody will step in and take the reins,” Fick said.

Legion folks finally can rest easily, because Fick’s reign is over--for the time being, at least.

Fick’s son, Chucky, is 6.

“I’m retiring for now, but I’ll be back in 10 years,” Fick said with a grin. “If they’ll have me.”