It’s No Act, but He Gets Tony Award

Hideo Nomo had to face Tony Phillips right off the bat Thursday night, and I am pleased to report that the Dodger pitcher did not chuck one anywhere near the Angel leadoff man’s chin. I was afraid Phillips might charge out to the mound and chew Nomo’s ear off.

That doesn’t mean all was calm in the wake of Wednesday’s bench-clearing rhubarb. Nomo nearly beaned Tim Salmon, then struck Luis Alicea on the spine with an off-speed offering. As soon as Roger Cedeno of the Dodgers was hit by an Allen Watson pitch, both clubs were warned, squawking Angel Manager Terry Collins was given the old heave-ho and tempers simmered during an 8-2 Dodger win.

In other words, it was Tony Phillips’ kind of ballgame: fast and furious.

Phillips, who can also talk your ear off, is a little Angel with a little devil in him. He brings vim and vitality to any team he plays for, but the 38-year-old Phillips also has been known to quarrel with fans, quibble with umpires, rearrange clubhouse furniture and threaten pitchers who throw too close for his comfort.

Explaining his involvement in this latest brouhaha, Phillips said he bore no hard feelings toward Chan Ho Park, the pitcher whose fastball nearly trimmed Tony’s mustache.

“He did what he had to do,” Phillips said before Thursday’s game at Anaheim, discussing what he believed to be Park’s deliberate brushback pitch. “He was throwing at my noggin. As far as I’m concerned, that’s baseball.

“I know this guy’s giving up two runs a game, so I’m thinking, ‘He can’t miss like that.’ His control’s way better than that. I been playing long enough to know when somebody’s trying to drill me.

“But that doesn’t matter, because those guys [the Dodgers] got heads too. This game’s already intense. When you got guys throwing at you, it gets more intense. And when you got teams throwing at you, it gets even more intense.”

So, is he sore at Chan Ho or isn’t he?

“No,” Phillips clarified, “I got nothing against the man. But when we get between the white lines again, who knows?”

Nobody ever knows where Tony the tiger will prowl next. Teammates love his on-field ferocity, but dread his temper. They can see it in his eyes, each tornado brewing, whenever a call goes the wrong way or a pitch comes a little too near his No. 73 jersey. Somebody better grab him before he snaps, to quote one Angel player’s actual words during a blow-up a few weeks back.

It happened again Wednesday, when a pitch by Park ruffled the Angel’s feathers and caused the first bad blood between the two teams. Leave it to Phillips to precipitate that. The wild look in his eyes is a dead giveaway every time. Phillips is a guy whose glare is so hot, it could set off sprinkler systems.

This time he stood near home plate, staring daggers at Park, repeating: “Not at my face. Not at my face.”

Phillips was utterly convinced that Park was aiming at him, even though the dart-throwing Dodger had already plunked Jim Edmonds and Salmon with pitches, and even though Park’s control is nowhere near as pinpoint as Phillips seems to believe it to be.

As even the Dodger catcher, Tom Prince, noted after the game, “Chan Ho’s always been a little wild.”

Prince took it upon himself to protect his pitcher, blocking Phillips’ pathway toward Park before an international incident could break out. The two principals never got near one another, while Collins, the bantam Angel manager, made it as far as the diamond before spotting guys the size of Billy Ashley and Kevin Gross persuaded him to sit this one out.

In many ways, a live-wire personality like Phillips is exactly what the Dodgers could use. He makes things happen. They aren’t always good things, but the man definitely makes things happen.

Traded 13 days after being suspended for questioning an umpire’s eyesight and integrity, Phillips came to the Angels on May 18. He blew into town like a Santa Ana wind. And since his arrival, the Angels have been averaging nearly a run more per game.

In his first look at Nomo, the best Phillips could do was whiff on three pitches. After that, most of this game’s interest was confined to waiting to see if the Dodgers and Angels would kiss and make up, or if somebody would need to separate them again and ask, “Can’t we all get along?”