April 27, 2004

Hall of Famer Schmidt takes a minor step
Phillies icon learning to manage in Class A

By Pete Williams
Special to USA Today

CLEARWATER , Fla. -- In the last three weeks, Mike Schmidt has purchased dinner from a vending machine, taken three-hour bus rides and spent most evenings managing a struggling Class A baseball team before crowds of less than 1,500.

Yet the Philadelphia Phillies legend, among the best third basemen in baseball history, says he has no regrets about leaving a comfortable 15-year retirement of fishing, golf and travel to manage the Clearwater Threshers, the Phillies' affiliate in the Florida State League.

"For the first time in a long while, I'm doing something with some substance attached to it," says Schmidt, 54. "I'm mentoring and hopefully affecting 25 young lives in a positive way. I've probably learned as much from them as they've learned from me."

In October, when Schmidt became the first Hall of Famer to accept a job managing at Class A, the three-time National League MVP seemed desperate to get into managing, or at least hopelessly bored. Why else would he sign up to work at a level from which few players or managers reach the majors?

Schmidt, a roving hitting instructor for the Phillies the past two seasons, says he could have taken the conventional ex-star route to managing by working as a coach for a major league team or pursuing a managerial job on his name alone. But he wasn't sure he was ready for the commitment and maintains it's still a one-year experiment.

"I wanted to stick my toe in the water and see what it would be like," says Schmidt, who has lived in South Florida since 1991, two years after retiring.

"I'm just the little guy down here working for the Phillies for six months. Coaching or managing at the majors, with the travel and all the offseason stuff, now that's a lifestyle change."

Perhaps, although the Florida State League in some respects represents the toughest managerial gig in the game. Game-time temperatures reach a muggy 90 degrees in April and become only more oppressive. Rainouts are frequent. Attendance is sparse, between the heat and the tough sell that A-ball is in communities where big leaguers play in March.

A strong presence everywhere

In some ways, however, Schmidt could not have picked a more attractive managerial job. The Threshers, named for a breed of shark, play in the new $28 million Bright House Networks Field that serves as the Phillies' spring training complex.

Travel in the FSL is minimal by minor league standards; the longest trip from Clearwater is 203 miles across the state to Jupiter, Schmidt's permanent residence, and he can live at home for 20 road games. His wife, Donna, shuttles across the state regularly.

Sitting in a carpeted office with blond wood furnishings before a home game last week, Schmidt tinkered with his new laptop computer while watching the Phillies face the Florida Marlins on TV.

"My office at home isn't this nice," he says. "Heck, most offices in the majors aren't this nice."

After each game, Schmidt files detailed e-mail reports to Philadelphia and leaves a lengthy voicemail. The routine takes just 40 minutes, and the administrative work he initially feared has been minimal.

The on-field work has been more challenging. The Threshers lost their first three games, prompting a clubhouse outburst from the manager, and dropped 11 of their first 14, hitting just one home run. They are 4-15 and in last place in the FSL's West Division.

"It's got to be tough for him to see us struggle because he's Mike Schmidt and it pretty much came easy for him," says outfielder Vince Vukovich, son of Phillies coach John Vukovich, who played with Schmidt in Philadelphia. "But he stresses that everyone has their struggles, and he's been nothing but supportive."

Unlike the majors, where performance is measured solely by wins and losses, minor league baseball is about developing talent. Raw but promising players receive more opportunities than polished veterans, who might help win minor league games but have less chance of contributing in the majors.

Even with the losing, Schmidt has not regretted what he gave up to manage. He won't be able to attend the Hall of Fame inductions in Cooperstown, N.Y., or play on the celebrity golf circuit, although he will take the four-day vacation period FSL managers receive to travel to the Bahamas in May for his annual charity golf tournament, which benefits cystic fibrosis.

"I'll miss a lot, but that's fine," he says. "My life had gotten so stale that I needed a year away from all that."

Schmidt wears his retired No. 20 but has downplayed his celebrity status. "This isn't about me, it's about the players."

Still, the team's official marketing campaign might as well be "About Schmidt." One ad reads, "When Mike Schmidt's your manager, everyone wants your cap!"

A Schmidt bobblehead doll giveaway came the first week of the season and the souvenir stand sells autographed Schmidt memorabilia. There's also Mike Schmidt Field, a practice diamond that's part of the spring training complex.

"His presence is everywhere," says right-hander Layne Dawson. "I thought, given that he's a Hall of Famer, he might have been a little aloof, but he's been very down to earth, just a really good teacher.

"How can you not learn from a guy like that?"

No game plan for future

Schmidt, who never played Class A baseball and spent parts of just two seasons in the minors, says he has come to understand how vast the distance is between Clearwater and Philadelphia.

"This job requires a lot of patience," he says. "You work with a kid in the afternoon or talk to the team and stress a particular concept. Then that night, the situation comes up where that very thing you pointed out is forgotten or ignored. That's the hardest thing. But they play hard, show up early and do whatever we ask. If they're short on ability, they make up for it with hustle and a good attitude."

Schmidt has stressed that dealing with adversity is a universal baseball skill. During one Threshers' stretch of offensive futility, he pointed out that he once fanned four times in a game on 12 pitches.

"I'm sure he's champing at the bit thinking, 'Why can't they put a good swing on the ball or field a grounder?' " outfielder Chris Cosbey says. "It's got to be an adjustment for him at this level, but he's extremely patient. He's mild-mannered and low-key, kind of the opposite of Larry Bowa."

Bowa, the fiery Phillies manager who played shortstop alongside Schmidt for a decade, seems forever on the hot seat in Philadelphia, where expectations have risen with a new ballpark and expanded payroll. But Schmidt says he's not auditioning for Bowa's job -- or any other position.

"I don't have any idea where this is going to lead," he says. "So much is going to happen between now and September. If I feel comfortable with this job and enjoy it and can get through the losses, mistakes and all the embarrassing things I'm going to do as a manager, then the experience will give me a comfort level to say I want to interview for a major league job. At that point, I can jump in and nothing will surprise me.

"Or I might say, 'It's been great, but I think I'll go home and play with my boat and golf clubs now.' "

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