Give Them Throwback Jerseys

One of the more interesting rooms in baseball this week was inside Angel Stadium, down two corridors, around a bend and to the left.

Jim Leyland hung his clothes there for three weekdays. It was aired out for a day, and then Ozzie Guillen pushed his shoes under the desk for a weekend series against the Angels.

They stand a generation apart in life, their teams are 1 1/2 games apart in the American League Central, and they stand shoulder to shoulder in an occupation that typically rewards take-it-or-leave-it individuality with a late-night phone call and a severance check.

The game shrinks in the course of George Mitchell’s snooping. It sighs in the drama of Barry Bonds. It drums its fingers at the process of appointing an owner in Washington. It shrieks at the continued failures of small-market franchises, where shared revenue creates profits, not competitive balance.

But, in this room, the game remains strong and appealing. It is held in the ashes that speckle Leyland’s midnight blue undershirt, the gestures that accompany his observations and dislodge gray flecks from his shrinking Marlboro. It is possessed by Guillen’s conviction, and the excellence he draws from commotion and audacity.

As he neared the end of a three-city trip, in which his Detroit Tigers won six of nine games and stayed with Guillen’s powerful Chicago White Sox, Leyland granted that the time had moved quickly.

“But, you know,” he added, “when you get to my age it seems like everything goes fast.”

He is 61, still wears his uniform pants above the calves, still drops references to Casey Stengel and Earl Weaver as though they were in the opposite dugout, and still expects players to be on time, do their work and be accountable.

Between jobs in Colorado and Detroit, he spent six years out of the dugout, most of those scouting for the St. Louis Cardinals and raising his two children in Pittsburgh. But no matter. It’s still baseball, near as he can tell.

“There’s a lot of things that still hold true,” he said. “I haven’t changed a lot. There’s so much information now, with this stat craze that’s going on in baseball. To be honest with you, I’m not smart enough to remember all that stuff during a game.... My brain is not big enough for that. I like to handle the players, keep them playing the right way.”

So, rather than carry a computer or a binder, he’ll jot a few notes on the lineup card. This guy hits left-handers. That guy has a decent move to first. The hot zones are always down the middle, the cold zones always low and outside.

Asked whether these are the fundamental instincts of a catcher, as so many managers are former catchers, Leyland grinned and said, “I wouldn’t really consider myself a catcher. When you back up in double A for four years, I really don’t think you’d put me and Bill Dickey in the same conversation.”

And when was the last time you heard a good Bill Dickey reference?

“I think I would have enjoyed [managing] more in the ‘50s and ‘60s,” Leyland granted, “when you just managed by the seat of your pants. I like to manage, you know? I mean, I really love managing. I don’t like reading a lot.”

Guillen’s kind of guy.

Even the scribblings on a lineup card seem over the top to Guillen, who proudly produces his scouting report. From his back pocket. It’s a 3-by-5 card. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, emphasizing its lack of depth.

Twenty-one years ago, Guillen was traded from the San Diego Padres to the White Sox for, among others, La Marr Hoyt. He showed up in spring training, 21 years old, about to become the White Sox shortstop for the next 13 seasons.

His third base coach was Jim Leyland.

“The best coach I ever had,” Guillen said Friday evening. “I learned a lot from the man.”

The way Leyland tells it, Guillen had most of it figured out back then.

“You could tell he was a very instinctive guy,” he said. “So, the success he’s had in managing doesn’t surprise me.... Ozzie’s good because he’s not afraid to try anything.”

Three weeks ago, before his first game in Detroit, Leyland got a hug at home plate from the opposing manager: Ozzie Guillen.

The White Sox beat the Tigers three consecutive times. But, according to Guillen, that was neither Leyland’s fault, nor Guillen’s doing, nor will either have considerable bearing on the next five or six months.

“He’s a great man for baseball,” Guillen said. “He brings the best out of his players. But, he’s not a great manager. Nobody’s a great manager. Great managers are great because they have good players.”

You get the idea. Leyland does.

“I’m not sure every manager would have won with the team he had last year,” Leyland said.

Still, he added, “What it all boils down to is the players. It was that way when Casey Stengel managed and it’s that way when Ozzie Guillen manages.... It’s interesting, though, because he downplays the importance of managers, but he’s certainly creating his own style.”

That’s right, Guillen nodded, style.

“It’s true,” he said, laughing.

They don’t manage entirely to the statistics, or at all to the postgame questions, or to the talk-radio finger-pointing.

Guillen smiled and put his fingers to his mouth, pantomiming Leyland’s ever-present nicotine habit.

“The difference between him and me,” he said, “I don’t get nervous like he does.”

Otherwise, they’re close enough. That’s why, for a week, it was a pretty good room.

“I’m thrilled to be here,” Leyland said. “And I’m sure he is too.”