Alex and the Angry Angels

There is no truth to the rumor that the California Angels are going to be renamed the Hell's Angels. If anything, the rumble abuilding in Anaheim last week sounded more like the scenario for a jock Western:

First of all, Outfielder Alex Johnson claimed that Teammate Chico Ruiz pulled a gun on him in the clubhouse. Chico answered that he doesn't own even a cap pistol, much less a .38. Then Los Angeles Times Columnist John Hall revealed that at least three players have been "carrying guns and several others are known to have hidden knives--to use as protection in case of fights among themselves." Hall went on to report that several Angels openly considered ailing Outfielder Tony Conigliaro "a malingering misfit." Recently, they are said to have shown their contempt by laying Tony's uniform on a stretcher with a pair of crossed crutches and some sanitary napkins and then splattering everything with catsup. On another occasion, Hall wrote, some players deliberately tried to hit General Manager Dick Walsh (known to the team as "the Smiling Python") with line drives while he stood on the sidelines during batting practice.

Under the circumstances, it was no surprise that Team Physician Jules Rasinski, after being asked when he was going to cure the team's injuries, answered curtly: "I haven't got enough couches."

One thing is certain: the Angels are riven by bitter dissension, and the team --touted before the season as a pennant contender--is languishing in fourth place in the American League's Western Division. Many of its troubles stem from the strange behavior of Alex Johnson. In 1970 he scored 85 runs for the Angels, drove in 86 and led the league in batting with a .329 average. But even then some of his teammates suspected him of "dogging" it on occasion. Manager Lefty Phillips, who has benched Johnson on four occasions this season for not hustling, says that "last year Alex gave us 65%. Now he's down to about 40%." Of his current .257 average, Johnson says: "I've been trying physically. I'm not ready mentally. The mood hasn't been there."

Phillips is not the first manager to be perplexed by Johnson's dark moods. Brought up by the Philadelphia Phillies in 1964, he was traded to the St. Louis Cardinals, who in turn shuffled him to the Cincinnati Reds. After two seasons, the Reds shipped Johnson to the Angels last year--even though he had hit .312 and .315. Pegged as a malcontent and a troublemaker, Alex has frequently distressed his managers by casual defensive play and refusal to run out ground balls. A proud, taciturn black man, Johnson enigmatically credits his unhappiness to "racial slights and insults both on and off the field."

Johnson, who makes $45,000 a year with the Angels, once said, "I know I could make a better living outside baseball." The tragedy is that one of the great natural hitters in the game may get the chance to check on that statement sooner than he thinks. At the height of last week's controversy, the Angels tried to trade him; they could not scare up one respectable offer.

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