An Angel With Attitude

Dave Hollins was once so upset after losing a high school football game that he locked himself in his room for two days, refusing to eat.

What he did for those 48 hours remains a mystery to all but Hollins.

“It’s better to leave that stuff alone,” the Angels’ new third baseman said. “It might scare the people in Anaheim.”

Some other frightening facts:

--Hollins’ mood shifts were so severe in Philadelphia that teammates had a name for his alter ego: “Mikey,” as in those old Life cereal commercials, “You know Mikey, he hates everything.”

--He has been known to talk to himself. “I don’t like a lot of idle chatter unless it’s with myself,” he said. “That way there aren’t a whole lot of arguments.”

--He would have no problem slugging a teammate who wasn’t hustling. “I’ll give a guy a chance, talk to him on the side without embarrassing him in front of his teammates,” Hollins said.

“But if it happens more than once, we will get into it, and I don’t think you want to get into anything physical with me. I’m better at that than I am at baseball, and hopefully [my teammates] won’t have to find that out.”

--The cleanup batter on Philadelphia’s 1993 World Series team, Hollins says he has never been on a championship team “that hasn’t had at least three brawls on the field and maybe one or two in the clubhouse.”

--He gets so keyed up before games that his own teammates can’t talk to him, and so upset after some losses that they can’t console him.

“He’s the sweetest, kindest guy, but all of a sudden he puts the game face on and he can be an animal,” said Kerri Hollins, Dave’s wife. “He’s like two different people.”

Actually, three.

There’s Hollins the family man, who loves to relax around the house and spend time with his wife and two young children.

“Some people would talk about his bad temper and ask, ‘How do you live with that guy?’ ” Kerri said. “I’d tell them he’s never like that with me. When he comes home, he’s a family person. He concentrates on me and the kids. He doesn’t even talk about baseball.”

Then there’s Hollins the baseball player, the gritty, pedal-to-the-metal infielder who was signed to bring power and passion to a lineup that lacked both in 1996.

Hollins will run out every ground ball, break up double plays, stretch singles into doubles, go from first to third on hits, dive for every grounder he thinks he can reach and throw so hard that first baseman Darin Erstad will need extra padding in his glove.

He will bunt a runner over, charge the mound to fight an opposing pitcher who beaned a teammate and. if it means starting a game-winning rally, he’ll freeze in the batter’s box as a pitch heads for his ribs, taking one for the team.

How tough is Hollins? Wrist surgery in 1993 was supposed to sideline him for three or four weeks, but Hollins was in the batting cage a week later and in the lineup 15 days later.

“Pete Rose was as intense as anyone I’ve ever played with, but Dave is right there,” said Angel third base coach Larry Bowa, who coached Hollins in Philadelphia.

And then there’s Mikey.

Mikey comes out to play after Hollins has committed an error that leads to a loss or popped out with a runner on third and a one-run deficit to end the game. He will smash a bathroom sink to bits or knock a drinking fountain off a wall. He comes with a “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging from his neck.

Hollins has learned to suppress Mikey in recent years--”He comes out, but not as frequently,” Hollins said. “He’s a little older”--but Kerri Hollins remembers those nights earlier in his career when Mikey, not Dave, would come home.

“It was hell,” she said. “You couldn’t even talk to him for hours.”

When Hollins began his Phillie career in 1990, he admitted he was “out of control.” He’d make an error or an out, “and I couldn’t let it go,” Hollins said. “I’d do something destructive. My teammates were afraid to approach me. . . . The next day, I’d be so ticked off it would affect how I played.”

It took a few years, a few humbling injuries and a few children, but Hollins, 30, believes he has matured to the point where he can cope with failure without compromising his intensity.

“I’ve loosened up a lot before and after games, because that used to carry over into the next day,” he said. “I’d be miserable and unapproachable, but now I like fooling around with the guys, with reporters, with trainers. I’m a lot better after losses, and I’ve found I’m a lot more productive the next day.”

The Angels are counting on Hollins to provide consistent power at a position that generated little offense in 1996, and the 6-foot-1, 210-pound switch-hitter is certainly capable.

Hollins had 27 homers and 93 RBIs in 1992 and 18 homers and 93 RBIs in ’93 for the Phillies, and he combined for 16 homers and 78 RBIs with Minnesota and Seattle in 1996.

But Hollins’ production has always been predicated on being injury free, and there is encouraging news on that front. The wrist injuries that hampered him for the second half of 1993 and all of ’94 and ‘95--requiring three operations--are fully healed, and he has learned to regulate his diet and pregame routine to cope with the diabetes he learned he had in ’95.

Last season was the first Hollins had played on insulin--he takes four injections a day--and it was a disaster at first. He batted .227 with only 16 RBIs in the first half for the Twins, and there were times he felt disoriented on the field and began shaking uncontrollably.

“I didn’t know I had to eat a full meal after batting practice,” Hollins said. “I’d sweat my butt off during infield, and I’d burn off the sugars and complex carbohydrates you need to play. That took my energy away.”

Hollins began a new diet around the All-Star break and hit .296 in the second half, .353 with 25 RBIs after a trade to the Mariners on Aug. 29.

“By the end of the year, I felt unbelievable,” Hollins said. “I could have played another season.”

But not with Seattle. The Mariners, after spending millions on pitchers Jeff Fassero and Jamie Moyer, were extended financially and could offer Hollins about $1 million.

The Angels, looking to add some leadership and toughness to an underachieving, last-place team that was passive for most of ‘96, offered a two-year, $3.8-million package, and Hollins signed in November.

“Guys like Hollins, with his style of play, it will spread throughout the team,” Bowa said. “You watch him, and it excites you. You see him go from first to third on a hit and you think, ‘Why can’t I do that?’ He will do whatever it takes to win.”

And he will do it with an attitude. Bowa said there will be days when Hollins “is just plain mean, but these guys just need to deal with it.”

The Angels weren’t looking for service with a smile when they signed him, though. And that’s fine with Hollins.

“I wish I could go out there and laugh and have fun like Ken Griffey and Bobby Bonilla,” Hollins said. “But I get burned every time I try to do that. I have to fight for everything. That’s just the way I am.”