San Francisco Still Much the Same for Alou

By now, Felipe Alou just laughs about it.

“That’s Moises,” a man calls out from behind as Alou walks through Union Square, the heart of San Francisco’s shopping district.

Nearly every time he strolls the streets -- which is quite often -- at least a few people mistake the Giant manager for his son and right fielder, Moises.

Never mind that the elder Alou has been in major league baseball longer than his son has been alive. Alou turns 70 on May 12, and this week reached his 200th victory as manager of the club for which he began his career as a player.

Over all the years, San Francisco hasn’t changed all that much in his eyes.

Even with the team’s recent struggles, Alou refuses to stay inside his apartment the day of home games.

“I know a lot of people around town,” he says. “I know that people don’t feel that great about the team being below .500. Some baseball people like to hide. I don’t hide. I like to be out. Being in the apartment is boring.

“I have a life to live 12 months of the year. I don’t feel sorry for the guys. We have a job to do.”

With slugger Barry Bonds sidelined as he recovers from two operations on his right knee, Alou has become the face of these old Giants, a team of veteran players who headed into a weekend series at Pittsburgh with a 10-11 record after being favored to win the NL West at the start of the season.

Alou -- dressed in team colors in his black pants, orange sweater and black leather jacket -- hustles to catch a street car by the ballpark. This hip area of San Francisco where he now lives hardly existed during his playing days four decades ago. During the 10-minute train ride, he points to a longtime fishing spot beneath the Bay Bridge he used to frequent.

“The only thing I’ve seen change drastically is this area and the freeway,” says Alou, a three-time All-Star as a player who once was part of an all-Alou outfield for the Giants with brothers Matty and Jesus. “I haven’t been on a boat. Maybe it would look different. [Former Giant manager] Dusty Baker gave me a number of a guy with a boat. I haven’t done it. I’ve been too busy.”

He heads to have his new pants hemmed. After a quick lunch at a tiny Thai restaurant he discovered while managing the Montreal Expos, he peers into a window of what used to be his favorite Chinese restaurant. It was recently converted to Mediterranean cuisine and he’s curious why. He tries to ask an employee, but the man doesn’t understand. Alou keeps on walking.

People see him on the street and say hello. One man offers “Buena suerte” -- good luck in Spanish.

“Gracias,” Alou answers with a wave and smile.

Walking, weightlifting and fishing are his main forms of exercise these days. He has changed his habits as he’s gotten older.

Alou joined the Giants as a player in 1958 and first lived in the city’s Excelsior district, not far from Candlestick Park. Then he spent one year in the popular North Beach area.

“We came home at 4 a.m. and it was like 12 noon,” he says, referring to the nightlife. “The team found out I lived there and tried to have me move.”

Alou still eats out sometimes, but many days he cooks for himself.

He does grocery shopping at the start of a homestand, then prepares fish, shrimp or chicken to go with rice and beans for lunch before heading to the ballpark in the early afternoon.

“My menu is more extensive than a restaurant,” says Alou, a wine aficionado whose stomach no longer can handle spicy foods. “At my age, I want to choose what I eat.”

He also doesn’t like to consume too many calories right before bed like the players, who usually eat after games.

When Alou left college in his native Dominican Republic and abandoned his plan to become a doctor to pursue his passion in the United States, he promised his dad he’d have a long baseball career.

“I knew health wise, I always expected to be around for a while,” he says. “I take care of myself and come from people who stay active. I eat well and sleep.”

Back when Alou earned an annual salary of $5,000, he feasted on hamburgers and fried chicken. Along with teammate Orlando Cepeda, he kept track of every cent to make sure the $11 daily allotment for food would last through a three-week road trip.

“Moises Alou was born in Atlanta,” he says of his 38-year-old son. “I was on an 18-day road trip. When I came back he was a big boy.”

Alou has a large SUV, but rarely drives it since he lives in a high rise right across the street from the stadium. The vehicle had a half tank of gas in it when the Giants gave it to him at the start of the season, and now it has a quarter tank. He took it to the airport to pick up his family, but that’s it.

While Alou believes he may someday fish again in San Francisco Bay, for now there’s a more important priority: winning a World Series title before both he and Bonds retire. The franchise hasn’t won it all since leaving New York after the 1957 season.