Hundley’s Happy to Find Daylight With Cubs

Todd Hundley is a long way from the fire engulfing the Dodgers, a long way, he said, from the suffocating shadow of Mike Piazza and the laid-back atmosphere that can be an impediment to the home team’s success in Los Angeles.

After two frustrating seasons with the Dodgers, Hundley signed a four-year, $23.5-million contract with the Chicago Cubs and is preparing to be the catcher for the team with which his father, Randy, was the catcher for eight seasons in the 1960s and ‘70s. Todd is wearing No. 99, as if an NFL lineman--one nine for his father, one for himself.

Randy Hundley is also here. He doesn’t have a number, but he has Manager Don Baylor’s blessing, an unofficial coach in street clothes, helping his son with the ongoing process of improving his strength, mechanics and throwing techniques after the 1997 elbow reconstruction with the New York Mets left him so vulnerable to opposing baserunners.

“It’s great for Don and the organization to have let him come in and work with me and to not let egos get in the way,” Todd said. “Some organizations might not have allowed it. There’s a link beyond father-son, and I have a lot of respect for his knowledge. I listened to a lot of opinions, heard a lot of advice, from different people in the last few years and now we’re just trying to get back to basics, get the feeling of what’s right and wrong back, develop some muscle memory.”

In addition, it’s a time of passage for the Hundleys, having each other to lean on as they continue to cope with the loss of wife and mother. Betty Hundley died on Labor Day after a long battle with cancer.

“It’s ironic,” Randy said. “We were watching a game from Dodger Stadium on the night she expired. I had to call Todd somewhere around the sixth inning, the toughest call I’ve ever had to make. He was very close to his mother. He got a lot of his toughness from her and I know her illness weighed on his mind, as it did mine. She was my high school sweetheart. We would have been married 38 years.”

Betty signed Todd up for T-ball and Randy sent him the equipment after his wife called and said, “Guess what position he wants to play.”

Now 32, Hundley at times has harbored the same doubts others have regarding his ability to continue catching in the aftermath of the elbow surgery. No one, however, has questioned his work ethic or the potential in his bat. Last year, despite two stints on the disabled list for rib and thumb injuries, he drove in 70 runs, slugged 24 homers and hit .284 in 299 at-bats, reviving memories of his productive seasons with the Mets in 1996 (41 homers, 112 RBIs) and ’97 (30 and 86 before the surgery).

Reflecting on his two years with the Dodgers, Hundley said:

“Baseball-wise it was tough. The first year I wasn’t physically where I wanted to be and everything started to snowball mentally. Last year I felt I was getting back to normal, but it was still very frustrating. We had a good team on paper and just couldn’t put it together. I don’t know if there was too much expectation or too many individuals, but when you’re not on the same page it’s difficult to win.”

And as much as his family liked living in Southern California, coming from New York and the rabid atmosphere in Shea Stadium was a shock--culturally and athletically--and that “kind of jumps out when you talk about the factors” affecting Dodger play.

“It’s the most laid-back town I’ve ever played in, and that kind of drags you down, forces you to adjust,” Hundley said. “The Dodgers draw big crowds, but most come in the third inning and leave in the sixth and really don’t care as long as they’re seen. The die-hards are out in the bleachers or up in the top deck. It’s a great place to live, but baseball-wise you’ve got to lock in, focus, self-motivate. I have a lot of good friends there, and the guys on the team like [Kevin Brown, Darren Dreifort, Shawn Green and Gary Sheffield] would motivate each other, but the atmosphere tended to rub off. I mean, you shouldn’t let it, but it does.”

The situation is compounded, he suggested, when the manager isn’t the type to shake things up.

“Tommy [Lasorda] was the best at it and that’s why his teams were so successful,” Hundley said. “He didn’t let his players fall into that laid-back groove. Davey [Johnson] wasn’t a rah-rah type guy. He put it on his coaches, gave them the responsibility. He felt his job was to make moves in the game. The problem was, he had a pretty quiet group of coaches, including [Jim Tracy, the new manager]. I like Jim and hope he can step up and do the motivating that needs to be done, but I don’t know if that’s his character.”

A cynic might ask:

How much motivation does a team with one of the highest payrolls in baseball require?

How much inspiration are the fans supposed to display when the team doesn’t provide any?

“I’m not making excuses, just stating facts,” Hundley said. “People talk about chemistry being a problem with the Dodgers, but I don’t think it’s chemistry. I don’t care if some guys don’t get along, you have that on every team, just as long as they’re ready to play when the game starts, and that wasn’t always the case last year for whatever reason. You also had the distraction of Davey and Kevin Malone going at each other all year and we were all wondering what was happening in the front office and who would be back.”

For Hundley, there was also the Piazza factor, which first intruded on his situation in New York. After the Mets acquired the former Dodger catcher, they moved Hundley to the outfield before trading him to the Dodgers. Hundley would soon learn that the ghost of Piazza in L.A. was even larger than his actual presence in New York.

“The fans in L.A. won’t ever get over his loss,” Hundley said, “and, frankly, I got tired of hearing about it. All the Piazza stuff got old real quick. Thankfully, I won’t have to deal with it anymore. I’m fine here, very excited to be with the Cubs.”

Excited to be with his dad’s fan-crazed team, excited to be swinging for the ivy over a full season, having spent much of his youth in Wrigley Field, and excited to be miles from the latest Dodger blowup-- but not surprised by it.

Sheffield had told him last season he wanted to be traded.

“It doesn’t surprise me that he’s asked to be traded,” Hundley said. “I’m surprised by the timing and the fact it would become an issue when he has three or four years left on his contract, but I knew he wasn’t happy and wanted out of Los Angeles. Sheff is a great hitter and I’d love to have him in Chicago and I know he’d love to be there because the vibes from the fans are far different than in L.A., but I also definitely believe a contract is a contract.”

In Hundley’s case, he was unsure of what he would find in L.A. He waived his no-trade clause to join the Dodgers but only if the Dodgers bought out his 2001 option so he could become a free agent. Now he is in a different blue, trying to rebuild his confidence and skills on defense with the help of a familiar tutor.

“There were times I hated to see the pitcher winding up because I knew I couldn’t throw out the runner,” Hundley said. “We’re still shaking out some cobwebs, but throwing-wise and strength-wise I’d say I’m an eight or nine on a scale of 10.”

Said Randy Hundley, coach and father: “This is certainly not an ego thing for me. I just want him to succeed behind the plate, to get him back catching the way I know he can. He’s showing a lot more confidence with it. I think he’s well on the way. “

SPRING WHINE

As millionaires like Sheffield, Frank Thomas, Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa complain about their need for more, San Diego Padre outfielder Bubba Trammell has volunteered to play for free if the Padres guarantee him 500 at bats, saying he would hit 30 homers if finally given the chance to play regularly. The rules, however, require a player to receive compensation, and the Padres can’t make that guarantee, General Manager Kevin Towers said, adding that the inability of players to honor contracts and live on $7 million or whatever is infuriating.

“The thing I get tired about is players saying it’s not about money, that it’s about security and lifestyle,” Towers said. “Give me a break. It’s always about money. It’s always about ego.

“What about when a player signs a $20-million deal and he promptly goes downhill or gets hurt? Should the club be able to renegotiate? Should we be able to hold him out of camp until he takes less? Isn’t it the same thing?

“What you’d like to say is, ‘Hey, you’re not happy, you’re not going to report. Well, fine. You’re suspended without pay.’ But we’re in the entertainment business and the fans want to see [the name players] and the players know it. They know no one wants to see the owner or general manager.

“It’s a shame. You’ve got these clubs with marquee players and they’ve already become distractions. That’s why the club in New York keeps winning. You don’t hear a lot of bitching and moaning from the Yankees. The players make a lot of money and respect what they have as a team.”

THROWING OUT THE RULES

The dismissal of Buck Showalter as Arizona Diamondback manager had a lot to do with his control tactics and wide array of stifling rules. In his first team meeting Wednesday, new Manager Bob Brenly carried the thick manual of Showalter rules, dropped them on the floor of the clubhouse in Tucson and said: “My philosophy is simple. Get it done.” Said pitcher Brian Anderson: “I think he wrote his notes on a cocktail napkin.”