DiSarcina’s Success a Sign That Angels Learning How to Win

Dante Bichette and Gary DiSarcina met behind the batting cage, the All-Star batting cage, reunited again after 4 1/2 seasons and one trade the Angels will never live down.

“So,” Bichette cackled as his beefy right hand engulfed DiSarcina’s, “did you come up though the Angels’ system?”

“From Day 1,” DiSarcina confirmed.

Bichette feigned astonishment.

“I didn’t know they hung on to you guys,” he said, and the Colorado Rockies’ .336-hitting outfielder laughed again.

Patience can be a wonderful thing, as the Angels finally appear to be discovering. For once, the number of current Angels in baseball’s All-Star Game outrank the ex-Angels, four to one.

Chuck Finley is here, because the Angels always get their one requisite representative, who, traditionally, is a starting pitcher with better statistics than his won-lost record would suggest. Lee Smith is here, stopping over on his way to Cooperstown. But Jim Edmonds and DiSarcina are also here, two products of the Angel organization who weren’t packaged and marketed elsewhere before their time had come.

“The Angels seemed to change their philosophy after he left,” DiSarcina said, alluding to Bichette. “When he went on and did so well, I think the organization took a second look at how they were doing things and made a commitment to keep young players and go with young players.”

DiSarcina looked around at where he was sitting.

“I guess I should thank him for that.”

DiSarcina was sitting in the American League All-Star dugout, midway through his fourth season as the Angels’ starting shortstop, four months shy of his 28th birthday, two years removed from a stuck-on-the-conveyor-belt season in which hit batted .238 with three home runs and 45 RBIs.

Previous Angel administrations might have pulled the plug then and there. We gave him two seasons, we don’t want another Dick Schofield, why don’t we trade him for some ossifying old vet who’ll be watching the 1995 All-Star Game from the announcer’s booth?

Maybe Dave Parker knows somebody.

Instead, the Angels waited for DiSarcina to fill out, add some upper-body muscle, learn the American League pitchers, take some tutoring from Rod Carew and stop hacking at the first pitch.

Midway through this season, DiSarcina is batting .324--82 points higher than his career average--with four home runs, 33 RBIs and 21 doubles. The home runs already rate as a career high. So do the doubles, which rank him third in the AL behind only Cleveland’s Albert Belle and Seattle’s Edgar Martinez.

Those are big names. DiSarcina’s remains mainly a long one. An attendant on DiSarcina’s flight to Dallas Monday morning butchered it as she paged “Passenger Gary Disareena “ and instructed him to meet with a gate official upon landing.

“It’s a complicated name, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “I never answered the page. ‘Disareena?’ I don’t know who that is.”

That evens the score, since most of America doesn’t know who DiSarcina is. One Dallas radio reporter opened a cage-side interview with DiSarcina by introducing him as a “big All-Star surprise,” and then asked DiSarcina if he was surprised.

And if he wasn’t, well, why not? The Angels aren’t laden with household names, yet in terms of fan recognition, DiSarcina barely cracks the team top 10. Finley, Smith, Mark Langston, Chili Davis, Tim Salmon, J.T. Snow, Tony Phillips . . . and then it’s a push between DiSarcina, Edmonds, Damion Easley and Troy Percival.

This is because DiSarcina mans his position the same way a good umpire handles his. He doesn’t screw anything up, so he goes unnoticed. “DiSarcina’s as boring as hell,” Angel General Manager Bill Bavasi says, “because he’s so damn good.” Finley describes him as “steady, not flashy. He doesn’t fall to the ground and jump up and throw out a guy. A lot of pitchers I talk to say, ‘God, I didn’t know this guy was that good.’ Some pitchers say, ‘I never heard of him, but he can pick it, he’s got great range, he’s got great instincts.’ ”

Most people believe American League All-Star shortstops begin and end with Cal Ripken, but Bavasi says, “I tell you what--DiSarcina’s the best shortstop in our league. I don’t know if I want to match him up against [Pittsburgh’s] Jay Bell. Jay Bell’s damn good. But our guy’s the best in the league.”

When this assessment was forwarded to DiSarcina, the response was a double-take and a disbelieving grin--as if he’d first like to see the words in black and white and then like to hear them during his next round of contract talks.

“I think it’s all right,” DiSarcina finally responded. “I just kind of play--and let them think what they want.”

And hope they take the time to get the pronunciation right.

“He’s opened some eyes,” Finley said. “It’s because of the hitting, probably because he has so many doubles. They see those doubles and they say, ‘Oh, yeah, and DiSarcina.’ They always knew he could field.

“Making it once is the big thing. Now they know the name. After you make it once, people say, ‘So, what’s DiSarcina’s doing this year?’ ”

There will never be another first time, though, and Monday, DiSarcina was soaking it all in. The thing that impressed him most?

“Cal talked to me.”

Really.

Imagine the possibilities: “Look, kid, I’m going nine tomorrow, no way around it, so you can leave the mitt at the hotel. Stay loose, though. You might get to pinch-run for Boggs.”

In reality, Ripken told DiSarcina to “Enjoy it. It’s a lot of fun. A good time to meet and talk to people.”

Mingle a little. Introduce yourself around. Spread the word.

That’s Dee-SAR-ceena. Got it?