REVOLTING DEVELOPMENTS

Terry Collins would not write this column. In his three years in Anaheim, he has never ripped an Angel in the newspaper.

Terry Collins would never dream of writing this column. In recharging the Angels and leading battered teams to two second-place finishes in two years, he has confronted his problem players face to face, treating them as he hoped they would treat him.

He wouldn’t do this. But somebody should.

To that influential group of veterans complaining to General Manager Bill Bavasi that Collins should not be rehired after his contract expires this year:

* Win a big game, and then pop off.

* Make the playoffs, and then whine.

The Angels complaining about Collins, as reported in The Times Thursday? That’s like a bunch of B students blaming their teacher for their failure to make dean’s list.

Does Collins’ management style rub some of those periwinkle uniforms the wrong way? That’s why he was hired, silly.

“Given a choice between casual and intense, we chose intense,” Bavasi said on that November day in 1996.

Collins is essentially the same manager now as he was then. The only difference is, the Angels have had consecutive winning seasons for the first time in 13 years.

Does Collins sometimes go too far? Absolutely.

Even Collins admits it. Although he has mellowed from his hair-raising days in Houston, he still sometimes curses mistakes in the dugout, and loudly rips players for not hustling.

His personality still leads him to stick his fingers in too many pies, such as when he tries to tutor hitters on a team whose batting coach is Rod Carew.

He could be a better manager of people. He acknowledges this, and is visibly working on it.

But is he one of the most respected managers in the American League, and the best manager for this team? Absolutely.

The veteran Angels complaining about Collins need to look first at themselves.

“If you have a player who has to like a guy to respect him, then you have an immature player,” Bavasi said on that same November day in 1996.

That much hasn’t changed, either.

The problem is, the Angel players might have it easier than any other team in major league baseball.

They have all the big league trappings without all of the big league pressure.

They make the big league bucks without the big league scrutiny.

They play in a wonderful remodeled stadium with a plush clubhouse, yet the fans who help pay for it rarely boo.

They are the second team in what is, in many summers, a one-team town. Win or lose, they exist in the large and often comforting shadow of the Dodgers.

The air is a lot cooler there. It’s a lot easier to breathe.

“This a great place to play,” an Angel once told me. “You can hang out in your pool during the day, drive to work in the afternoon. Nobody recognizes you, nobody hassles you. It’s a great life.”

Then all of a sudden, you also have Terry Collins.

A wrinkle in the silk. A buzz above the drone.

They succeed, but there is pressure. There are triumphs, but tension too.

Life is not always just great, but sometimes grating. You may not be noticed in the streets, but the manager is staring at you in the dugout.

Then this year, there are injuries that knock out three regulars for an extended period of time, and knock you into last place, and the temperature is turned up and . . .

What is happening now was described in six words by one of Collins’ veteran supporters the other night:

“The same thing that happens everywhere,” the veteran said.

An undermanned team gets frustrated with itself, then turns that frustration on the manager who won’t relax the reins.

“We just need to forget about it all and play,” that same veteran said. “Everybody on every team goes through this at one point. You don’t complain. You just play.”

Maybe some of the complaining players think they can depose Collins as the Houston Astros did after his third season there.

Funny, but this season, now in first place, those same Astros are bragging about the Collins-like intensity that has filled their once-dormant clubhouse.

This is, of course, where your big hitter comes in.

The answer to the problems between Collins and his players can be found, ironically, with one of the guys who supposedly visited Bavasi recently to discuss the matter.

Mo Vaughn was supposedly not complaining--he hasn’t been here long enough--but simply carrying the message for his teammates.

Now it is time for him to deliver that message to Collins, and for Collins to respond, and for a truce to be worked out.

It’s Collins’ team, but it’s Vaughn’s clubhouse. Together they must work to coax this season back from the ledge.

It will not be easy for the manager, who sounded weary during a brief phone interview Thursday.

“I just want it dropped,” he said. “I just want it to move on and play. It’s part of our business, and I can handle it.”

It will also not be easy for his team. Tonight at Dodger Stadium, before the first of a three-game series with big brother, they will be forced out of those comfortable shadows.

Every camera will be pointed at the Angels. Every questioner will be asking about the rift. Every move, every expression, will be chronicled.

They will learn something about real big league scrutiny. For a few uncomfortable hours, they will learn what the Dodgers endure every day.

Because the names of the disgruntled players are unknown, it’s unfair for Terry Collins’ fans to even guess about which Angels to boo.

But with the Angels sitting only one-half game worse than the Dodgers, despite having one-fifth of the Dodgers’ talent, it’s pretty easy to figure out whom to cheer.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

Second City

Terry Collins’ teams have finished second the last five seasons. A year-by-year look at Collins’ record as a major league manager:

*--*

Year Team Record Pct. Place 1994 Houston 66-49 .574 Second 1995 Houston 76-68 .528 Second 1996 Houston 82-80 .506 Second 1997 Angels 84-78 .519 Second 1998 Angels 79-75 .513 Second 1999 Angels 26-27 .491 Fourth

*--*

*

Bill Plaschke can be reached at his e-mail address: bill.plaschke@latimes.com.