Torre adds reality to Dodgers’ stage show

It was 10 o’clock Monday morning and the press worship was about to begin.

There were no deacons and no lit candles in this, the cathedral of Dodger Stadium. Just cameras and microphones and dozens of unkempt types with notebooks.

In the distance, walking from the home plate area toward the gathering in center field, came the sacred six: Frank and Jamie McCourt holding hands, Joe and Ali Torre arm-in-arm, Vin Scully and Ned Colletti not touching.

The only thing missing was bagpipes.

The majority of the unkempt types, whose pursuit is the written word rather than sound bites, rolled eyes and shook heads. If they are any good, skepticism is in their blood, and skepticism about this event was easy.

This “press conference” was a misnomer. This was to be a show, a branding event, a way to assure capturing those precious extra seconds on the 11 o’clock news. (And by the way, tickets for next season can be purchased by calling . . . )

For the unkempt, especially those who write columns, this would be shooting fish in a barrel. Lock and load. Rip and run.

But then, the old guy with the face of a former boxer and the soft dark eyes that seem to assure that he is friendly and honest and decent, saved the day.

The Dodger PR types apparently wanted image, aura and great camera angles. Instead, they got plain old Joe.

Who bailed them out.

After both Scully and Dodgers owner Frank McCourt had prematurely ushered Joe Torre into the Hall of Fame, Torre assured one questioner that he was “not St. Joe, trust me.” He asked another who had addressed him as Mr. Torre to “just call me Joe.”

He told the gathering that he had to come clean with them; that he was from Brooklyn, had managed the Yankees and now the Dodgers, but growing up, “I was a Giants fan.”

He was relaxed, self-effacing, fun. He didn’t bore with platitudes. Unlike most major league managers, he doesn’t fall quickly into baseball-speak.

He told stories, often with himself as the punch line.

“Nice to be out here in center field, where Willie Davis used to catch all my fly balls,” he said.

He paid proper homage to the team’s remaining franchise player, broadcaster Scully, reminiscing about his days as a player, coming to Dodger Stadium, and how so many people in the stands had their transistor radios tuned to Scully that players could hear what was being said.

“I can remember it, being there at home plate,” Torre said, “and hearing Vinny so beautifully say, ‘And Torre has just struck out again.’ ”

Soon, Scully, a master at catching the drift of things and adjusting on the fly, shared his story about a series in which Torre, then catching for the St. Louis Cardinals, had been in a big collision with a Dodger at home plate and had been banged up enough to have to move to third base for the next game. Scully said he had speculated on his broadcast that, were Torre not to get back behind the plate the next night, some around the league might be calling him Chicken-Catcher-Torre.

Scully, having delivered his groaner, took a look at nearby Tom Lasorda and reached even lower: “I told Tommy, and he immediately ordered two.”

In the end, a good time was had by all.

What clearly had a chance to look and feel like an insincere sales pitch came off as a celebration of a classy new addition to the Dodgers’ family. That could have been achieved just as well in a big room somewhere with Dodgers posters on the wall, minus all the ostentation.

There was no news here, other than that Don Mattingly and Larry Bowa have signed on as coaches. All the stories about Torre’s hiring had been done. All the background about his career and dual success of managing the Yankees for 12 years and not once shooting George Steinbrenner had been written.

So had the columns, many saying that, no matter how great a manager Torre is, he can’t hit and run and field for his team. Since he was hired late last week, the media theme, an accurate one, has been: good manager, bad team.

Strong, experienced, charismatic leadership can make a difference. How much of a difference is hard to know now but will be measured quickly during a three-year contract that will take Torre to age 70.

Soon, Torre will be taking his first steps to that end.

But one thing was established Monday, a day that could have easily been more about marketing than managing.

The first Dodgers save of 2008 doesn’t go to Takashi Saito. It goes to Joe Torre.

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