Hired Hit Men

They are bleary-eyed from watching slow-motion video and unfamiliar to many fans. They are major league hitting coaches, and this was a moment any of them could appreciate:

Carlton Fisk was saying at his Hall of Fame induction in 2000, “Walt Hriniak is the single-most important person in my baseball life. The time we spent in the bowels of every stadium -- the sweat, the blood, the tears, the conversations, the relationship, the friendship, the closeness. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, Walter. Thanks.”

Cesar Izturis of the Dodgers and Chone Figgins of the Angels might never make Hall of Fame speeches, but given a podium and an audience seeking explanations for their .300 batting averages this season, both would tip their helmets to their hitting coaches.

At first glance, Mickey Hatcher, in his fifth season with the Angels, and Tim Wallach, in his first season with the Dodgers, seem to be opposites. Hatcher is the Robin Williams of his profession; Wallach takes a Clint Eastwood approach.

More important are their similarities. Both were considered overachievers as players, and neither fancies himself a hitting guru. Neither makes hitters adhere to a rigid style. Both deflect credit. Instead, armed with scouting reports, digital video and a lifelong obsession with making a round bat hit a round ball squarely, they view themselves as available resources. Wallach sits in a corner of the dugout during games, scribbling in a notebook, charting every pitch thrown by opposing pitchers. He analyzes Dodger swings, watching without expression as Shawn Green struggles and Paul Lo Duca flourishes. The players are receptive to his tutelage because they sense he thinks the way they do.

“If I force stuff on anybody, they won’t respond,” Wallach said. “I know because I had it forced on me when I played. I let it go in one ear and out the other. That’s the best thing I ever did.”

Dodger hitters apparently are absorbing something from him. The team batting average is .273 second in the National League and 30 points higher than last season’s major league-worst mark.

“He knows how to talk to guys,” said Izturis, whose .303 average tops his career mark by more than 50 points. “He’s calm, and I like that, but he notices everything and is always available.”

So is Hatcher, a cheerleader for his hitters, praising their successes and reminding them that they are good even when they fail.

“My main question is, ‘Can you hit?,’ ” Hatcher said. “I’ll tell them they can throughout the game. Then after the game, we can break down their mechanics.”

Despite injuries to many of their best hitters, the Angels are fourth in the majors with a .279 average. Figgins is batting .303 with 11 triples.

Angel second baseman Adam Kennedy, struggling a bit at .242, said, “When I’m not hitting, I’m not sleeping well, and what I like best about Mickey is that he’s not sleeping, either. He’ll take a tape home and be up until 2 a.m.”

Much of a hitting coach’s work is done in batting cages and video rooms. Satisfaction comes from watching a player make an almost imperceptible adjustment and hike his batting average by a few points. Failure can cost him his job. The New York Yankees fired three hitting coaches in the last four years.

Hriniak, in fact, was fired in 1995 after more than 20 years as a coach with the Boston Red Sox and Chicago White Sox. It didn’t matter that he was the most celebrated disciple of the respected Charlie Lau or that he had the ear of Frank Thomas and the trust of Fisk. It didn’t matter that upon reaching the unprecedented combination of 3,000 hits and 400 home runs, Carl Yastrzemski had given him a gold watch with the inscription: “To Walt: Wouldn’t Have Made 400-3,000 Without You.”

A team isn’t performing, a scapegoat is necessary, and often the guy responsible for offensive production is let go.

“A good hitting coach takes on the responsibility of the team producing at the plate,” said Hriniak, retired and living in North Andover, Mass. “And if you don’t help, you’ve got to be the guy held accountable.”

Similar Roots

Maybe it’s the proximity, but from the front office to the playing field, Dodgers often become Angels, and Angels, Dodgers. Hatcher, 49, played six of his 12 seasons with the Dodgers. Wallach, 46, joined the Dodgers in 1993 after 13 seasons with the Montreal Expos and four years later split his last season between the Angels and the Dodgers.

One of the first men considered an expert batting instructor in either organization was scout Kenny Myers, whose ties to the Dodgers began in the 1940s and who was employed by the Angels from 1969 until his death in 1972. He invented several contraptions to aid hitters, and some credit him for conceiving of soft toss -- a kneeling coach flipping balls to a hitter only a few feet away.

Because few teams had hitting coaches then, helping players took different forms. Myers picked up the phone late in the 1963 season and called Dodger center fielder Willie Davis.

“Willie, you are standing up at the plate like a stick,” Myers said. “Bend over so you can see the pitch better. You are too great an athlete to be hitting .220.”

Davis hit nearly .350 the rest of the season and drove in Jim Gilliam with the run that won the final game of the World Series against the New York Yankees.

Wallach and Hatcher say their most profound influence has been former switch-hitting slugger Reggie Smith, who has formed a distinct batting philosophy by drawing on sources as diverse as Ted Williams, Willie Mays, Hall of Fame second baseman Bobby Doerr and Japanese home run champion Sadaharu Oh.

Smith, Hatcher’s Dodger teammate in 1979 and 1980, was the team’s minor league hitting instructor when Hatcher began his coaching career in the Dodger farm system. Smith also was the Dodger hitting coach when the team traded for Wallach in 1993.

“I saw Tim evolving into [a hitting coach] probably before he did because of the questions he would ask,” Smith said. “That’s the challenge -- to ask the right questions and find out what is really going on.”

Smith recognized potential in Hatcher as well.

“Everybody thinks of Mickey as a funny man, but the fact he got the most out of his ability is something everybody respects,” he said. “He was willing to put in whatever work it took, as a player and as a coach.”

Smith, 59, operates an Encino baseball school, spending his days giving private lessons. He taught Thomas Jane, the actor who played Mickey Mantle in the movie “61*,” by having him swing a stick while standing on a balance beam. Several major leaguers visit him for tuneups when they are in town.

His advice to Wallach and Hatcher was to study the swing from the ground up, rather than base their evaluations on results.

“It’s cause and effect,” Smith said. “If you coach the effect, you are chasing rainbows.”

Swing of Things

The first hitting coach might have been Bill Dickey, the Yankee Hall of Fame catcher. He returned to the team in the 1950s as the first base coach and was told, “Oh, by the way, work with the hitters too.”

“He didn’t do anything for us,” Yankee first baseman Moose Skowron once said. “All Dickey ever said was, ‘Stay back and wait for the ball. Don’t lunge.’ ”

Even today, many major leaguers don’t need or don’t want the advice of a hitting coach. A swing is a personal thing and is tinkered with at great risk. Simplicity is often preferable to comprehensive analysis.

A good hitting coach realizes this. Many Dodgers are receptive to Wallach because he is, in Lo Duca’s words, “one of us.” He has participated in a fantasy football league with Dodger players for several years and is as much a pal as a mentor.

Wallach had an immediate effect on third baseman Adrian Beltre, persuading him to become more selective and emphasizing hitting to right field. Wallach’s credibility did not stem from introducing some revolutionary technique, however. Beltre is all ears because Wallach played third most of his 17-year career.

“He’s been there, especially because he was a third baseman,” Beltre said. “It helps when you know he understands you. When you are trying to express something to him, he knows exactly what you are trying to say. That makes you feel a lot better.”

During spring training Wallach asked each Dodger to tell him one or two things that go haywire when they are struggling and one or two that are key when they get hot.

Lo Duca said he tended to tilt his head over the plate and dip his rear shoulder during slumps. Green talked about getting his striding front foot down in time for the pitch.

Wallach also stressed something Hatcher has preached for years -- situational hitting. Advancing a runner from second to third with none out and using the middle of the field to drive in a run from third with fewer than two out are important to accomplish day in and day out.

Hatcher and Angel Manager Mike Scioscia emphasized unselfishness with Vladimir Guerrero and Jose Guillen the first day they put on Angel uniforms. The responses were reassuring.

“These guys play the game, willing to give away at-bats for the team,” Hatcher said. “Guillen bragged all spring he could do it with the best of them. Same with Vlad. They come in with big smiles on their faces when they advance a runner and everyone is giving him a high-five.”

Information Age

The job of a hitting coach changed dramatically after Lau, who’d been a light-hitting catcher, began using slow-motion video in the early 1970s. He disproved several theories, proving that a batter does not roll the wrist of his top hand on contact and that a batter begins to stride with his front foot before the pitch is released.

Today, every hitting coach uses video, not only to analyze swings but to study opposing pitchers. Coaches also are given stacks of scouting reports that statistically break down tendencies, from pitch sequences to where on the field each hitter drives the ball.

Feeding players only what information is pertinent is a challenge.

“There is such a thing as overload,” Dodger Manager Jim Tracy said. “The information can be invaluable, but too much can take guys away from their foundation as a hitter.”

Simplicity is key, once a batter steps into the box. There should be no thoughts of mechanics, facts or figures.

Wallach repeats a minimalist mantra to every Dodger: “Get a good pitch to hit.”

Hatcher doesn’t use computers and distrusts statistical minutiae. “I’m an old-school coach,” he says.

They understand, however, that they ultimately will be judged by numbers. If Shawn Green doesn’t get going, Wallach might be the one to go. If the Angels falter down the stretch, Hatcher could be considered more expendable than the high-priced hitters.

For now, though, their greatest ambassadors are the likes of Izturis, Figgins and Beltre, previously unheralded or underachieving players having breakthrough seasons.

“What’s obvious right now is that Tim and Mickey connect with their hitters,” Smith said. “They are humble about the impact they’ve made, and they work hard every day. That’s all you can really ask of a hitting coach.”

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Numbers Games

Where the Dodgers and Angels rank in key offensive categories this season compared with last season (with league rank in parentheses):

*--* DODGERS Category 2004 2003 Runs per game 4.3 (12) 3.5 (16) Batting avg. 273 (2) 243 (16) Slugging % 420 (5) 368 (16) On-base % 333 (7) 303 (16) Home runs 77 (8) 124 (15) Walks 208 (14) 407 (16) Strikeouts 431 (13) 985 (12)

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*--* ANGELS Category 2004 2003 Runs per game 5.0 (8) 4.5 (11) Batting avg. 279 (4) 268 (7) Slugging % 429 (7) 413 (9) On-base % 336 (9) 330 (8) Home runs 71 (10) 150 (12) Walks 199 (13) 476 (9) Strikeouts 440 (11) 838 (14)

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