Insomniac in Charge : Mounting Losses Gnawing at Angel Manager Lachemann

Marcel Lachemann looks at his clock. It is 2 in the morning. Once again, he cannot fall asleep.

Everything is shut down for the night, but his mind continues to whirl in the darkness, replaying every pitch, of every inning, of yet another Angel loss.

He has already watched TV, started reading his latest book, but now he is listening to the night, waiting for his mind to cooperate and turn in for the evening.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was going to be a challenge, sure, but one that he relished. This was the opportunity to finally win, and who knows, maybe even erase the haunting memories of Game 5 of the 1986 American League playoffs.

Instead, it figures to go down as just another frustrating season in Angel annals, making this no different from many of the rest.

The only real distinction this time is that Lachemann feels responsible. This time, Lachemann is manager.

“He’s taking this hard, very hard,” said Marcel’s wife, Sue. “He never has taken losses well, but now, it’s as if he feels responsible for the whole organization.

“When he gets down, he usually gets quiet.

“And lately, it’s been real quiet around here.”

The Angels, who might be playing their last home stand of the season considering the upcoming Aug. 12 strike date, are 18 games below .500. Their 44-62 record is the worst since 1980, and since May 19 when Lachemann was hired, they are 27-38.

“It’s not his fault,” Angel shortstop Gary DiSarcina said. “You can’t blame this one on the manager. We’re not losing because we’re out-managed, or the fans don’t cheer, or anything else.

“We’re losing because we stink.”

Still, it is no solace to Lachemann, who continues to be tormented by the mounting losses. He despises losing, and has even more contempt for excuses.

“He takes losses as tough as anybody I’ve ever seen,” Angel General Manager Bill Bavasi said. “What makes him unique is that he takes the losses hard, and then his next day of work is guided by that.

“ ‘How did it happen? Why did it happen? What didn’t I do?’

“He can handle what we’re going through, he’s very resilient, but when we lose, I know it eats at him all night.”

Said Lachemann: “I’m not very good at losing. Never have been. Never will.

“I don’t want to lose at anything. Even if I play a game of Ping-Pong, I want to beat your . . . “

Competitiveness has driven Lachemann throughout life. He refused to allow an arm injury to deter him, so he resorted to throwing side arm, and made a nine-year career out of it. He married Sue in the middle of the 1965 season, and although his minor league manager, John McNamara, gave him three days off for a honeymoon, he returned the next day. He helped convert Bryan Harvey from a softball player into an All-Star closer, and Chuck Finley from a middle reliever into an 18-game winner.

This drive prompted him to leave the Angels after the 1992 season. He could have stayed as the pitching coach under Buck Rodgers, but Rodgers wanted full control of the pitching staff, and Lachemann did not want to follow orders.

“He was kind of disenchanted,” said his brother, Rene, manager of the Florida Marlins. “He needed a change. He was going no matter whether I became manager or not.”

The Lachemanns spent 1 1/2 years with the Marlins before Bavasi telephoned Marcel the night of May 16. He asked if Lachemann would manage the Angels. If not, the Angels would stick with Rodgers, although they were convinced Rodgers was not the same man he was before the harrowing bus crash in 1992.

It was a difficult decision. He could have remained, keeping his reputation intact as one of the finest pitching coaches in baseball. And he would still be with his brother.

“It was the best 1 1/2 years we ever had together,” Marcel Lachemann said. “It was a pretty special time. We got to know each other like we never have before.”

That competitive drive again made Lachemann accept the offer. He knew that one day he’d like to become a manager, and if he turned down this opportunity, there might never be another.

Now his life has forever changed, leaving him to wonder during times of frustration what in the world he has gotten himself into.

“I’d be less than honest,” Lachemann said, his face breaking into a smile, “if I haven’t asked myself at times, ‘What the hell have I done?’

“Even when I took the job, managers came up to me and said, ‘What, are you crazy?’

“I know it would have been easy to stay in my nice comfortable surroundings. I was perfectly content. I knew exactly what I wanted to do every minute of every day.”

Now, he has the Angels.

“He didn’t exactly inherit the ’27 Yankees,” Finley said. “I’m just glad he’s a quiet guy. If he wasn’t, he’d be hoarse by now watching the way we play.”

Lachemann, 53, realizes there is no miracle cure. If there are shortcomings, he believes they can be remedied simply by hard work, and certainly, no one’s going to outwork him.

He is up by 8 each morning, reads the Bible, takes a 30-minute run, makes out his lineup, does calisthenics, showers, grabs breakfast, and is at the ballpark by noon, seven hours before game-time.

“I can’t think of a guy I’d rather have in that spot,” Bavasi said. “When we made the change, we weren’t getting him for the quick-fix. We were looking for a different way to go about things, and believe me, he has fulfilled his end of the bargain.”

Said DiSarcina: “You got to remember, this is still not his team. These are all Buck’s guys and Bill’s guys. He’s still not playing with the guys he wanted.

“I’m sure in the off-season, he’ll say, ‘If I’m going to lose, I’m going to lose with my team.’ There’s only so much he can do right now, but I’m sure you’ll see some changes.”

Lachemann said inheriting a team in midseason has been difficult. He can’t overhaul the team’s personality. He can’t suddenly administer a rash of new rules. And he can’t develop the close relationships with his players he had as a pitching coach.

In the meantime, he continues to gather ideas, hoping to implement them next spring. He’ll keep talking almost daily to Rene, occasionally with McNamara, and whenever possible with Gene Mauch, whom he still considers to possess the finest managerial mind he has known.

He aches for the day when the Angels can become winners again, and perhaps then people will be able to forget Dave Henderson’s ninth-inning home run that forever haunts this organization.

“You know something,” Lachemann said, “this is the only place I would have come back to manage. I mean that. There would be no greater feeling like winning a championship with the California Angels, and when it happens, I want to be here.

“And I won’t be satisfied until we do.”