Rancho Cucamonga’s Flannery Approaches Job With a Passion : Baseball: He will do just about anything to help his Quakes be successful.

Tim Flannery learned early in his managerial career how best to motivate a team. Of course, this technique takes a unique set of circumstances:

First, you have to get yourself ejected from the game during a bench-clearing brawl.

Then, your team has to rally from a seven-run deficit to tie the score going into the ninth.

Then, while listening to the game on the radio in your office, the team mascot must wander into the clubhouse for a drink of water.

“I told him, ‘You’re done for tonight,’ and I put on the costume,” Flannery said. “Then I went out and sat on the bench in the dugout. I didn’t say a word.

“They got some runners on base in the ninth, but we got out of it. I did a dance to ‘Louie, Louie’ in between innings and went back to the dugout and started high-fiving guys and yelling, ‘C’mon, let’s go.’ They recognized my voice and went crazy.

“Then we scored and won.”

Flannery was a rookie manager last season with the Spokane Indians, the San Diego Padres’ short-season Class A affiliate, when he made his debut as an entertainer. This year, he’s managing the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes and getting along just fine without the dinosaur costume.

The Quakes are 41-25 and in second place in the Class-A California League, and they are winning by playing “Timmy Ball”--the kind of play Pete Rose would love, a style that made Flannery one of the most popular players in Padre history despite a .257 career batting average, a style that made him a coach’s favorite at every level from Anaheim High to Chapman College to the majors.

“When I was playing, I took the attitude, ‘If I die out there tonight, so be it,’ ” Flannery said. “They said I hustled, or was smart, or got the most out of my abilities. But that passion took me to a level where I was able to play with big league ballplayers.

“Passion isn’t just the key to baseball. Lack of passion is why marriages fail. Passion is the reason Bruce Springsteen can play the same song every night in every town, but you would never know it. And if a kid doesn’t have passion at this level, how is he going to put up with 20-hour bus rides or someone telling him he’ll never play in the big leagues?

“If you have it here,” he says, pointing at his chest, “you can make it. And if you really want to make it, I’ll take you by the hand and teach you everything I can about how to get there and how to stay there.”

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Jason Thompson, a first baseman who played at Laguna Hills High School and Saddleback College, was introduced to professional baseball by Flannery last season at Spokane. Now, he’s leading the California League with a .364 batting average and 60 runs batted in, and is leading the Quakes in home runs (13).

“I love his hard-nosed style, the get-’em-on-and-get-’em-over approach,” Thompson said. “He taught me how to play pro ball. I got really lucky and now I’m playing for him again.

“Here’s a guy who didn’t have as much talent as plenty of guys who never made it to the big leagues, but he made it and stuck there all those years because he was smart and had the drive. He teaches you how to win, not just the way to play, but the little subtleties of how to win.

“You’d be a fool not to pay attention.”

Flannery is the fourth Class A manager that catcher Sean Mulligan has played for and he’s no fool.

“He’s a real leader who the players respect,” Mulligan said. “I’ve played for teams that lacked leadership, but this is the way the game should be taught.”

Still, the message sometimes is scrambled during the communication process.

“There are frustrations,” Flannery said, laughing. “Not everyone understands they must be motivated and you have to handle every player differently. Some need a kick in the butt. Some need a hug. And I’m learning that everyone hears differently, or listens differently.”

It didn’t take Flannery long to develop a credo for managing Class A ball and maintaining sanity: Take nothing for granted.

“I tell the guys that when you’re on third with less than two outs, you tag up on any ball hit in the air. Sometimes an infielder will make a great diving catch, but if he falls hard or ends up on his belly, you can score. And we’ve scored a lot that way.

“Well, the other night, a little jam shot was hit to second and I yelled, ‘Tag up.’ He tagged up and then just went home. He was out by 10 feet.”

Next time, Flannery will remember to say it’s OK to stay put after tagging up if you’re going to be out by 10 feet. And the player probably will have learned from his mistake.

“The kids really relate to him,” said pitching coach Dean Treanor. “I’ve had phone calls from players who have moved up and really miss what Tim brings to the clubhouse. He is able to stress learning the game in a positive, upbeat way that is especially important at this level.

“We just have to make sure he stays away from the hitters. We don’t want them to emulate that weenie swing of his.”

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Flannery retired in 1989 after 11 seasons and 972 games in a Padre uniform. In 1984, his RBI single was a key hit in Game 4 of the National League Championship Series and his hard grounder that skipped past Leon Durham ignited a four-run seventh inning the next day as the Padres clinched a spot in the World Series.

His lone World Series appearance was a pinch-hit single in Game 4. He hit .281 in 1985 and .280 in ’86 and still holds the club record for second baseman with a .993 fielding percentage that season. But an ankle injury in 1987 marked the beginning of the end. Hobbled and unable to maintain his usual level of hustle, Flannery finally retired in 1989.

“I had lost a step I couldn’t afford to lose and I was in pain,” he said. “I knew I didn’t want to be there anymore, so I couldn’t compete anymore. It was a very easy decision.”

He took a job as a television reporter for San Diego’s CBS affiliate and, as if he were heading into second trying to stretch a single into a double, he dived in head-first.

“I watched one baseball game a year for two years,” he said. “I didn’t do any sports-related stories and I was learning the business. It’s a very competitive arena and I enjoyed it, but I couldn’t see myself doing it the rest of my life.”

Flannery had lunch with Padre President Dick Freeman and wondered aloud if there was a place for him in the organization as an instructor. A few months later, his boss at the station called him into his office.

“He said they wouldn’t be able to renew my contract when it expired in six months,” Flannery said. “I smiled and said, ‘Thanks.’ And then I quit.”

His wife, Donna, whom he had met when she was a sophomore at Savanna High, made him stay with the television station two more weeks.

“She wanted me to get enough money to make another car payment,” he says. “Then I called the Padres and went to the instructional league. The third day there, I had decided this is what I want to do.”

Flannery says he was “a foot soldier” who never had a million-dollar contract. These days, he makes about the same as a first-year teacher. And as soon as school is out, Donna and son, Daniel, and daughters, Virginia and Kelly, will drive up from their home in Leucadia to live in an unfurnished, one-bedroom apartment near the ballpark.

“We’ve got mattresses on the floor,” he says, smiling. “We’ll be camping out.”

It’s not exactly the lap of luxury, but don’t tell Flannery he’s not a wealthy man.

“When I was a player, I had physical limitations,” he said. “Now, as a manager, I have no physical limitations. I can steal bases through these healthy, young bodies. Just put on the steal sign and watch them go. I get just as excited as if I did it myself.”

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Despite his relative experience, Flannery’s name has come up as a replacement for Padre Manager Jim Riggleman. The Padres are already 16 games under .500 and 9 games behind in the National League West.

If offered the job, he would say “Aye, aye, I guess,” but he won’t be campaigning.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “There’s no way to say anything without getting in trouble. I don’t know where the rumor started, probably by some elevator operator in San Diego. Well, I’m flattered, but I don’t want to say any more.”

Besides, he is happy--no, make that ecstatic--where he is. The Quakes are drawing an average of 5,700 fans to the Epicenter, a beautiful 6,100-seat facility that opened last year.

“All I know is that I’m here today doing what I love to do,” he said. “This is something I preach all the time. Everybody is so worried about the final destination, in this case the big leagues, that they forget about the joy of the journey.

“It’s not like when I was a player. I don’t have that need to get to the big leagues. I want to teach these young men. These kids have dreams. They’re alive and I feed off that.

“I love it more than I loved playing.”