Guerrero’s Arrival Shakes Things Up in Dodgers’ Camp

VERO BEACH, Fla. —  There were two unseasonable sightings in Florida Saturday: Snow in Jacksonville, Pedro Guerrero in Dodgertown. One was spotted first by the National Weather Service, the other by Terry Johnson of the South Bay Daily Breeze.

The weather guys had state-of-the-art technology to facilitate their search. Johnson, like the other reporters who have made it their business to discover just when Guerrero would check into camp the last three years, had only his wits, cunning, stealth and intelligence to rely on. A tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.

Here is how it worked Saturday:

Johnson is just leaving the press room and is on his way back to his hotel for a change of clothes when he slams on the brakes of his rented Oldsmobile. An unmarked Lincoln town car is entering the Dodger training complex. Johnson recognizes the driver, despite the hat pulled over his eyes: Ralph Avila, the Dodgers’ Dominican scout.

Johnson doesn’t need the Dodger media guide to identify the passenger. Guerrero. It is 3:11 p.m. EST.

Johnson puts his car in reverse and returns to the press room.

A few minutes later, Johnson and eight other reporters stalk down a hallway behind Dodger publicist Toby Zwikel, headed toward the registration office.

They pass chief publicist Steve Brener. “Is it him?” Brener asks. Heads nod grimly.

--3:20 p.m. Zwikel and Brener are in the registration office. Nine reporters are out in the cold, shivering. “Why am I doing this?” mutters the sports editor of a large metropolitan daily. He is ignored.

Ken Howell, the Dodger relief pitcher, walks toward the office.

“Are you part of the welcoming party?” someone asks.

“For who?” Howell asks. He is told. He utters an expletive.

Fred Claire, the Dodger executive vice president, drives slowly past, destination unknown. “Must be a big story you’re working on,” Claire says. He is smiling when he says it. The reporters are not smiling. It is 3:22 p.m.

Three minutes later, the door opens. Reporters shield their eyes. Gold bracelet on his right wrist, gold watch on his left. Two gold chains around his neck, one with a diamond-studded “28.” White shoes, white socks, white slacks and an Apollo Creed shirt. Sighting confirmed: Guerrero.

He raises his arms above his head, fingers flashed in a “V.” Cameras flash. “Thank you, thank you,” he says. Brener suggests everyone return to the press room, a block away.

“I’m not walking,” Guerrero says. He climbs into a waiting van. The reporters walk.

--3:30 p.m. Reporters arrive in the press room. A clubhouse boy is sweeping the entrance that Guerrero takes into the main building. He does not roll out a red carpet. Brener, a step ahead of him, walks into the press room. Guerrero ducks into the clubhouse, where he greets his manager, Tom Lasorda, and samples his manager’s platter of ribs.

“Let those bleepers wait,” he says.

The bleepers wait.

--3:38 p.m. Brener re-enters the press room with Guerrero right behind him. He turns around and does a double-take. “Where did he go?”

--3:39 p.m. Guerrero walks in with Lasorda and sits down in a chair next to the manager. “What’s happening?” he says.

Guerrero clears his throat.

Reporters note that Lasorda’s excuse for Guerrero’s delayed arrival checks out. He has a cold, just as Lasorda said he did. Reporters note it is easier to check out a cold than previous excuses--a leaky roof and visa problems.

Guerrero says how happy he is to be here. Lasorda says how happy he is that Guerrero is here. Guerrero says he is in good shape. Lasorda says Guerrero is in good shape. Guerrero says something funny about Lasorda’s shape.

--3:45 p.m. Guerrero defends the timing of his arrival, four days later than anybody else on the Dodger roster. Lasorda says he sees nothing wrong with his timing, either.

“From the beginning, I said I would be here today and I’m here,” Guerrero says.

“I wasn’t supposed to be here till Monday. I’m three days early.”

Technically, Guerrero is told he had until Tuesday. Someone asks him how he enjoyed Dominican Independence Day.

“Beautiful? What did I do? What do you think?”

--3:50 p.m. Guerrero is asked about the wrist he sprained last September. He says it still bothers him.

“I know it’s going to bother me, but I really don’t care. If I can swing the bat the way I was swinging it in the Dominican, it won’t bother me, really.”

Someone asks Guerrero how Lasorda likes his goatee.

“They told me I could wear it,” he says.

Lasorda: “Who told you that?”

Guerrero: “That thing will go tomorrow. I would have shaved it this morning, but I woke up too late.”

No one asks Guerrero about his new teased hair style, but he models it, anyway, for the photographers. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, but he forgets to mention that Enos Cabell said the new ‘do made him look like Little Richard.

--3:55 p.m. Guerrero says he said hello to “Mariano Duncan, Mad Dog (Bill Madlock) and (Terry) Whitfield.

“They didn’t want to talk to me because I’m late,” he says, giggling. “I’m just joking, you know, so don’t be writing that down.”

--4 p.m. Guerrero is getting antsy. So are the writers. “Anything else?” he asks. “Thank you, it’s always a pleasure to talk to you guys.”

Guerrero walks away to do a radio interview. Someone asks Avila, who drove Guerrero here from the airport in Miami, to disclose who paid the tolls en route.

“I did,” Avila says.

--5 p.m. Bob Hunter, long-time baseball writer for the Daily News, is informed that he has won the Guerrero pool--entered by reporters, players and a certain manager--for coming closest to picking the time of Guerrero’s arrival. Hunter, who has covered baseball for 51 years, had been taking a nap. He is not surprised. He yawns.