It’s Code Day for Dodgers

He’s losing his touch. At his coming-out party Friday, it took Davey Johnson an entire two hours to draw battle lines.

Shortly after being paraded through the Dodger Stadium Club as the new Dodger manager, Johnson wearily plopped on a folding chair, took off his sport jacket, kicked back . . . and said his players better not.

Next year’s Dodgers will not be allowed to wear facial hair beyond a mustache.

You hear that, Raul Mondesi and Chan Ho Park and Darren Dreifort?

Next year’s Dodgers will not be allowed to wear earrings or any other visible jewelry while in uniform.

You hear that, Gary Sheffield?

Next year’s Dodgers will not be allowed to wear bluejeans or tennis shoes on the road.

You hear that, everybody?

“We’re going to start looking professional, looking like a team,” Johnson said. “I’ve had pitchers tell me that the Fu Manchu mustache makes them look more intimidating. Well, I’ve been on the other side, and it doesn’t do diddly.”

Thus, not only did Johnson become the first Dodger manager to change the rules before he changes his clothes, he also became the first to be quoted using the word, “diddly.”

This is going to be fun.

The reinstatement of a longtime Dodger dress code--Bill Russell allowed it to disappear last summer after the four Florida Marlins showed up--doesn’t mean the Dodgers will win any more games.

It doesn’t even mean they will look any better while overthrowing the cutoff man or getting caught in a rundown with fewer than two out.

But as first steps go, it’s a good one.

Because the moment the players step into Dodgertown in February, they will know who is boss.

It’s not going to be Bobby Bonilla, who will surely be traded before he has a chance to undermine Johnson with the younger players. Everybody said nice things about Bonilla on Friday, but you never rip before you ship.

It’s also not going to be Mondesi, who will not be allowed to arrive at spring training out of shape again without public censure.

And it won’t be Sheffield.

Which, judging from his recent comments, could make things a tad sticky.

Last summer, every time I wrote about how hard and intelligently Sheffield plays, how exciting he is to watch, somebody always answered me with two words.

“Just wait.”

Looks like that wait is about over.

In reality, those battle lines Friday were drawn with one guy, and Sheffield is it.

Since the final week of the season, he has been grumbling about two things that you would think $61 million should allow a guy to overlook.

He doesn’t want to play without Bonilla.

And he doesn’t want to play left field.

First, the part about Bonilla, his buddy who was traded with him from Florida last year with Jim Eisenreich and Charles Johnson for Mike Piazza and Todd Zeile in a deal that looks worse every day.

“The guys I came here with are the guys I’m going to stay here with,” Sheffield recently said. “I wouldn’t have wanted to come unless Bobby and the other guys were coming too.

“They [the Dodgers] knew that when we met to talk. They knew how I felt about that--and nothing has changed.”

Then there is the matter of left field, where Sheffield must play for Mondesi to remain in right field, his best position.

Sheffield likes left field as much as his buddy Bonilla did.

“I just can’t do it,” Sheffield said at the end of the season about left field. “I always overthrow the cutoff man, believe it or not.

“I told them when I went to Florida, ‘Don’t try to put me over there, I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t play it.’ ”

Johnson said Friday that he felt none of this would be a problem--”I know Sheffield; this is a guy who can carry a ballclub. . . . Players like to play for me.”

Managers always say that sort of thing near the end of October.

Johnson knows that in four months, this could be a big problem.

The Dodgers can handle Sheffield’s worries about Bonilla’s impending departure. Give them one of those special-friends calling cards. Bring in a couple of third-grade students to teach them the fine art of being pen pals.

But this left-field deal is going to be a little more difficult and could cause a crack in the clubhouse big enough to swallow all the other beloved, time-worn cracks.

Sheffield saying he doesn’t want to play left field is a direct challenge to Mondesi, who would have to move to center field permanently to make such a switch work.

Mondesi would never do that while conscious.

So the team’s two best offensive players show up for spring training mad at each other, mad at their manager . . . and suddenly somebody is reminding them to pop out those diamond studs before batting practice?

It is clear that Johnson has the philosophical support of General Manager Kevin Malone, who announced, “We’re going to start looking like the Dodgers again.”

It is also clear that Johnson has navigated these bug-infested waters before, when, in Baltimore, he convinced proud Cal Ripken Jr. to forget about his own legacy for a moment and move to third base.

“I wanted to show Cal I had the authority to do that,” he said.

But will he and Malone have the authority to do whatever it takes to get the most out of Gary Sheffield? Even if that means benching him, or publicly scolding him, or trading either him or Mondesi to fix this leak before it contaminates the room?

Only the bosses at Fox know for sure.

For now, Johnson is saying of his hiring, “This is undoubtedly the greatest moment of my life in baseball.”

Not all of his players would agree.

As first steps go, that is a great one.