Angels Have No Sniff of Dissent

Two clubhouses, two cultures, two choices.

Last fall, Dodger outfielder Milton Bradley threw a water bottle at the feet of a fan, then tore off his jersey as he stalked off the field.

Last fall, the Angels’ Jose Guillen threw his helmet toward his manager, then engaged him in a screaming match.

Both were suspended, both urged to seek anger-management help.

Bradley was back in a Dodger uniform a week later for the playoffs.

Guillen’s suspension continued through the playoffs, and he hasn’t worn an Angel uniform since.

This spring, Bradley remains in the Dodger outfield where, already, he and J.D. Drew have publicly disagreed over who will play where.

This spring, Guillen is 3,000 miles away, and the Angels are at peace.

Two clubhouses, two cultures....

“No choice,” Angel Manager Mike Scioscia said. “We’re trying to build a winning tradition here. To do that, you have to stand on your principles.”

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It is so quiet in Angel camp, you can hear Vladimir Guerrero smile.

It is so quiet in Angel camp, you can hear clubhouse concrete dry.

“The message is real clear around here now,” pitcher Jarrod Washburn said. “Either you are on the same page as everyone, or you’re gone, and it doesn’t matter what numbers you put up.”

While the Red Sox preen and the Yankees grumble, the team that could be better than either says little and grins steadily, its lineup strengthened by several acquisitions, its personality shaped by one giant cut.

The Angels’ stunning decision to suspend their second-best hitter during their most important two weeks of last season -- then later trade him -- resulted in not only an amazing division championship, but an unmistakable message.

“Everyone around here knows now, the law here will be laid down,” Darin Erstad said. “Any time, anywhere.”

What Jose Guillen’s loss cost the club in statistics, it paid off in leverage, giving Angel management the rarest commodity in pro sports front offices.

Power.

The Dodgers must dance around Milton Bradley. The Angels dance around no one.

This winter, they dumped their longtime closer and leader Troy Percival. Any players have a problem with that? We still haven’t heard.

They also dumped their shortstop and fan favorite David Eckstein. The silence has been deafening.

Replacing those players with the accomplished Frankie Rodriguez and Orlando Cabrera was certainly enough to soothe hard feelings, but still.

In nearly every major league clubhouse, there is at least one discontented veteran who will pop off on just about anything. Not here. Not anymore.

“Things are done a certain way around here,” Erstad said. “And if not, action will be taken.”

Their top pitcher, Washburn, is starting the final year of his contract, and he’s represented by Scott Boras, yet there has been no acrimony.

Their top reliever, Brendan Donnelly, accepts an undervalued contract because he hasn’t played long enough in the majors, yet there is no public complaint.

They have several good bench players who deserve time, and won’t get it, but have not said a word about it.

“It’s always been simple around here,” Scioscia said. “You have to fold yourself into the team game. You can’t have weak links in the chain.”

Then along came Guillen, who, if not a weak link, was certainly a rusty one.

There were several times last season he could have been suspended -- for ripping his pitchers, for lying about attending a clubhouse meeting, for doing dumb things to draw attention to himself beyond his 27 homers and 104 runs batted in.

He was very much like Milton Bradley. And the Angels were very much like the Dodgers, preferring to counsel him, soothe his teammates and cross their pine-tarred fingers that he could last the season.

Then came the final outburst, in the final days of the season, Guillen going crazy in Anaheim only a couple of days before Bradley went crazy in Chavez Ravine.

The difference was, the Angels needed Guillen far more than the Dodgers needed Bradley.

The Angels needed to win big in the final week to make the playoffs. The Dodgers were already on the verge of clinching.

Yet the Angels dumped Guillen permanently. The Dodgers gave Bradley another chance.

“If you look back, what we did was pretty amazing,” Washburn said. “Had anybody ever done anything like that before?”

Scioscia said it wasn’t that amazing.

“It was a tough thing to do,” he said. “But I wouldn’t say the decision was very tough.”

After all, Guillen had challenged Scioscia in front of the team. He had cursed him in Spanish, perhaps forgetting that Scioscia speaks the language. He had condemned the very authority that, two years earlier, had turned this franchise into a champion.

Scioscia will not discuss the incident, but he says he will never forget what happened a day later, when he saw owner Arte Moreno in the dugout as the suspension was being handed down.

“Arte looked at me and said, “I’m 100% behind you,” Scioscia said. “That’s where it all starts, right at the top.”

A couple of days later, in quite a different scene at Chavez Ravine, Dodger owner Frank McCourt justified Bradley’s return for the playoffs, as if five days of anger-management classes would be enough to cure an acknowledged lifetime problem.

It starts at the top, indeed. Scioscia has long been one of the best managers in baseball. With Moreno’s support, he has now become one of the most powerful.

He jokes with the players, allows them to joke with him, rolls around the field with them during workouts and takes them to dinner afterward.

But when it comes time to focus, everyone must be looking in the same direction, or looking for the door.

“Best manager I have played for at any level in this game,” Erstad said. “No offense to anyone else I’ve been with, but this is a guy who has it all figured out.”

Two teams, two cultures, two choices.

And so quiet in that Angel clubhouse last September, you could have heard all dissension drop.

“Oh yeah, when they told us about the suspension, there was disbelief and shock,” Washburn said, smiling. “But, you know, if anybody had a problem with it, they kept it to themselves.”

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.