As Chili Simmers, the Angels Cook

Three more Angel home runs on Sunday, and Chili Davis had none of them. Fourteen more Angel base hits, and Chili Davis had none of those, either.

The only thing the Angels’ designated hitter did all afternoon was walk to first base. Three times. In the first three innings. This is the new, and vastly flawed, American League pitching strategy for the Angels this summer: Pitch around the big Dawg and take your luck with the kids.

So Chili is quasi-intentionally walked three times . . . and rookie Garret Anderson goes three for five with a home run and four runs batted in . . . and second-year man Jim Edmonds goes two for three with three RBIs and his third home run of the weekend . . . and first-year full-timer J.T. Snow goes three for five, scoring twice.

Lots of luck, over and out.

Chili was the only Angel not to have a hit Sunday, yet he was the only Angel to have the entire hometown press corps huddled around his locker after the final out. To Chili, the math didn’t add up.

“I didn’t do [expletive],” Chili said, “and I got all you guys around me. I didn’t do anything.”

Perhaps not, but Chili has seen things, more things than the Angels’ sonic youth could ever fathom. Midway through his 13th season, Chili has put in more time in the big leagues than Anderson, Edmonds, Snow, Tim Salmon, Gary DiSarcina and Damion Easley--combined.

With the Angels leading both leagues in scoring and averaging 6.2 runs per game--almost a run per game higher than the franchise record, set in 1979--a trip through Chili’s always adventuresome mind field seemed timely, even somewhat logical.

Chili is the rare Angel who owns a World Series ring, earned during the ’91 campaign with the Minnesota Twins. How do these Angels stack up, Old Man Chili was asked.

“Actually, in ‘91, I think we led the league in runs there too,” he said. “And everybody contributed. [Kent] Hrbek had a great year. Shane Mack had a great year. I had a great year. Puck [Kirby Puckett]. [Scott] Leius. [Mike] Pagliarulo. We had everybody contributing.

“That reminds me of this team . . . You see guys having fun running around the bases, you want to join in too.”

Anderson, Chili said, “reminds me of me, when I was young. He looks like a young Dawg.

“Except,” Chili added, grinning that gremlin grin again, “I could pop from both sides of the plate.”

Edmonds?

“Very strong. Surprisingly strong. If you watch him take batting practice, you’d see he was one of the strongest guys on the team.”

Snow?

“J.T.’s been through some downs, some career-testing obstacles, and he’s pulled through. Now he’s having some good times and you’ve got to ride those good times, man . . . It’s like surfing. Just hang 10 out there. Don’t get too excited, though, because there might be a bigger wave right behind you.”

Words to live by, Chili staunchly believes, as he repeated for the questioner who wondered if this young and exciting Angel team, well, excited him.

“I don’t get excited,” Chili said, kicking back in his chair, swirling a mixed drink around in a paper cup. “I could spend two nights with Miss America and I wouldn’t get excited . . . What goes up must come down. And what’s in the middle doesn’t have far to fall.”

That last one had to be written down, stared at a while, mulled, reconsidered.

No use. Finally, Chili had to be asked for an official interpretation.

Chili held out his hand and cut a slow and very straight line through the air. An extremely even keel.

“I like to stay in the middle,” he said. “I don’t want to get too high; I’m afraid of heights. I want to stay under the clouds, have a good parachute and make sure I pull the rip cord at the right time, so I land softly.”

At this rate, Chili could land in the American League playoffs, although we’re talking extreme altitudes again, and Chili wants no part of that.

He mentioned the ’79 Angel team that scored a league-high 866 runs and averaged 5.3 runs per game, the two records the current Angels are set on obliterating. That team had Don Baylor, Bobby Grich, Dan Ford, Brian Downing, Carney Lansford, Rod Carew as a .318-hitting first baseman instead of a 49-year-old hitting instructor.

“That team didn’t win,” Chili noticed. “That team didn’t go all the way. I want to go all the way.

“It’s only July. You’ve got to play August, September and all through October to win it all. It’s too early to be scoreboard-watching. Just ride the good times. And when you get to Sept. 25 and you’ve got the magic number behind you in the standings, then you can count down. You can count down, but not let down. Because in October, you’ve got to key back up.”

Then if the Angels happen to play Cleveland in a best-of-seven series, Chili might set that chair on all fours, maybe even lean forward on the seat. But this three-game series with the Indians beginning tonight?

It’s only July.

“Everybody talks about how potent Cleveland is. As far as the media is concerned, Cleveland’s already won the World Series,” Chili said. “We hope they take us lightly.

“I look at it this way: You try to put as much room as possible between yourself and the team following you, so when you play a team like Cleveland you don’t have to press. We’ve done that.

“We want to beat them, we’re at home, this is our field. We should have the home-field advantage, regardless of whoever comes in here. We want to beat them, but we won’t press.”

Press? In July?

Chili chuckled under his breath and took another sip.

“I just have a cup of vodka, listen to some rock ‘n’ roll and chill .”

And watch all the young Angels cross home plate, one after another. According to Chili, it can have quite a calming effect.