Matt Williams runs out ground balls. He runs from the dugout to his position at third base before innings, then back to the dugout at the end of them. He runs out line drives to the gap and popups to short with the same amount of internal combustion.
If you want to get right down to it, Matt Williams runs out homers. Head down, body leaning slightly left, feet moving in Chaplinesque cadence, Williams rounds the bases as if he has just done something horribly, unforgivably wrong. ThereOs a good chance Williams has never seen any of his 300-plus home runs clear the fence.
This is all part of The Code. Williams is the gameOs quiet curator of The Code. Baseball has always been funny this way, with its unwritten rules and macho vagaries and the eternal never-steal-when-youOre-up-by-eight. To the DiamondbacksO third baseman, The Code is all. He talks about honor and respect the way generals do. He will play hard, play fair and never show up an opponent. In turn, he expects you to treat him and his teammates with the same respect.
He is a five-time All-Star, a four-time Gold Glove winner and a leading candidate for the National League Most Valuable Player award. His world is decency and humility with a double shot of intensity. The decency and the humility are easy to read, easy to handle. The intensity is more problematic. It comes from somewhere deeper, behind those deep-set eyes. The intensity is where you have to be careful. Teammate Jay Bell says, OSometimes guys look at him and think, OMan, whatOs going on behind those eyes?O ItOs never irrational, but you never know.O
When Williams fails, he wears his frustration like a loud shirt. When he succeeds, which is far more often than he would ever admit, he tells you success is an expected part of the job. He takes responsibilityNto his team, his teammates and his familyNso seriously that his manager, Buck Showalter, talks about him Otrying to hit a five-run homer with nobody on base.O He is close to his parents and three older brothers, but one of the brothers, Bart, says, OWe donOt hear from him when heOs going bad.O Williams seems to enjoy success only to the extent that it is not failure. He has a square jaw, a shaved head and a strong sense of justice. At 6'2" and 215 pounds, heOs built like the Saturday Evening PostOs idea of a ballplayerNstrong in the manner of someone who tends the earth for a living. Here is a highly paid athlete who left a World Series team for an expansion team so he could spend more time with his three kids. Williams believes whatOs right is right and whatOs wrong demands correction. HeOs a country music ballad in black and teal. OHe plays every day, plays hard and plays hurt,O Bell says. OHeOs the type of player guys from the O60s and O70s would be proud to watch.O OYou can have all the RBIs or home runs or MVP awards in the world,O says Williams. OIn my book, the thing you covet most is the respect of the people you play against. When youOre done, you want them to say, OHe played the game the way it should be played.O ThatOs all. ThatOs enough.O
The D-backs are contending in the NL West in their second season of existence. There are many reasonsNthe signings of free agents Randy Johnson and Steve Finley, the trade that brought Tony WomackOs wicked brand of carbonation to the top of the lineup, the career summers of Luis Gonzalez and Bell.
But itOs just as easy to trace the timeline of the DiamondbacksO success to a Miami hotel room after the Marlins had finished off Williams and the Indians in Game 7 of the 1997 World Series. There, Williams and his agent, Jeffrey Moorad, conducted an all-night, emotional discussion of WilliamsO future. Desperately missing his three children and six months removed from a divorce that caught him completely off-guard, Williams decided to ask Indians GM John Hart for a trade to the Diamondbacks. For someone who adheres so strictly to a lunch-bucket view of work and responsibility, this was a difficult step. It was also a blatant sign of how deeply affected he was by the breakup of his family. He says he has never felt more nervous, before or since, than he felt entering HartOs office. But Williams learned that Hart was expecting the visit, and that he sympathized with WilliamsO request to play near his children, who had been living with their mother in Scottsdale and flying to Cleveland for every home stand. OI was ready to retire,O Williams says. OBaseballOs only around for so long. When youOre done, youOve got to have a relationship with your family.O
Hart eventually traded Williams to Arizona for Travis Fryman and pitcher Tom Martin. The first thing MattOs oldest daughter, Alysha, then 7, said when she heard the news was, ODoes that mean we donOt have to get in that airplane again?O
For Showalter and D-backs owner Jerry Colangelo, this was manna from heaven. BaseballOs best third baseman saying heOd play for you or nobody? This must have sent them looking in gutters for winning lottery tickets.
Showalter: OMatt helped us determine how we were going to go about our business. When he hits a home run, he acts like heOs hit one before and heOs probably going to hit one again. This team has picked up on that. We must lead the league in quickest runs around the bases.O
Colangelo: OMatt was the perfect fit for our organization. We saw him as someone who could give us instant credibility. HeOs someone to market and build around.O
Williams joined a team with a moving roof overhead and a swimming pool in right and the unrelenting heat of the desertNbut no history, no lore, no stories to be handed down from veteran to rookie. Soon, though, they will be telling true-to-life baseball stories in Arizona, the first of which might be about the day Matt Williams stood up for Byung-Hyun Kim.
On May 29, Kim, a 20-year-old pitcher who doesnOt look a day younger than 13, was about to make his big league debut in the ninth inning against the Mets with his team leading by one run. He was warming up to face Edgardo Alfonzo, John Olerud and Mike Piazza when Mets manager Bobby Valentine popped out of the dugout to dispute some aspect of KimOs glove. Earlier, the umpires had asked one of ValentineOs pitchers, Turk Wendell, to change gloves, and tit-for-tat is baseball tradition. ValentineOs bigger purpose, though, may have been to unnerve the kid from Korea. Williams figured Kim had enough to worry about. So the third baseman walked toward the managerNwho is not universally lovedNand told him to get a certain part of his body back in the dugout. Anger was conveyed, adjectives employed. Valentine looked at Williams, into those deep-set, you-never-know eyes, and quietly returned to the dugout.
That, in one distilled moment, is the essence of both Williams and The Code. Kim, who knows maybe seven words of English, has a nickname for Williams now. He calls him OBig Bro.O
OIt was beautiful,O one Diamondback says, a hint of awe in his voice. OJust beautiful.O
The origins of The Code were in the tiny California town of Big Pine, on the eastern edge of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. A boy named Ratso lived there, and Ratso was friends with the three Williams boysNfour, if you count Matt, the little one. MattOs brothers are 9, 12 and 13 years older, and since both Williams parents worked, the older boys babysat their little brother during the summer. This means that their main goal, for three months a year, was to convince little Matthew to take a nap.
This was achieved by threatening Matthew with the bogeyman. The bogeymanOs going to get you if you donOt take a nap, theyOd tell Matt, 3 or 4 at the time. Then they would boost their friend Ratso onto the roof of the family home, where he would jump up and down above MatthewOs room. ThatOs the bogeyman, his brothers said. WeOre going to let him get you if you donOt go to sleep. Most of the time, little Matthew went to sleep.
MattOs father was a carpenter, as his three brothers are now, and his mother was an Inyo County deputy sheriff. She was among a group of law-enforcement officers who arrested Charles Manson in his Death Valley hideaway on Oct. 12, 1969. So this much is clear: The Code has roots.
WilliamsO former Giants teammate Kevin Mitchell once played fast and loose with The Code. This was back in 1989; Williams was taking grounders during BP and Mitchell was messing with him. Williams told him to go away. Words became threats. Soon they were standing in the runway to the clubhouse wondering who would be dumb enough or mad enough to throw the first punch. Parking lot, after the game, said Mitchell. IOll be there, Williams responded. After the game Williams dressed quickly and went out to the parking lot. He stood there, not liking his chances, but knowing he had no choiceNThe Code, after all. Presently, Mitchell arrived. They began talking. Williams doesnOt remember the topicsNthe game, the weather, the stupidity of two grown men calling each other out. Before long, hard looks faded and laughter was popping the night air. The two have been good friends ever since. At the plate, Williams looks painfully uncomfortable. His stanceNbat waving overhead like a man trying to flag down a plane, mouth constantly nagging at his front shoulderNlooks like the bastard offspring of too much amateur advice. When his drumstick forearms hover over his head as the pitcher goes into his motion, you canOt help but wince.
What you see, however, is the product of a lot of hard work and sound principles. Williams describes his hitting philosophy as, OPick out a good one and whack it.O But when he drives a high fastball to the right-center gap or thrashes a low, inside pitch into the leftfield corner, itOs obvious his system is not random. The chin scratching the shoulder is intended to remind Williams to keep his head down by forcing his chin to start at his front shoulder and finish at the back shoulder. The bat height serves WilliamsO main purposeNto keep the bat above the ball. OWhen I swing down and through, I hit the ball solid,O he says. OIf my hands are underneath the ball, I have to work to get to it.O
In the field, his hands are so quick and sure he has the luxury of letting the ball almost pass himNensuring a good hopNand still catching it cleanly. No matter where he fields the ballNon his belly behind the bag, on his knees in the holeNhis throws rarely stray from the two-All-Stars Johnson,Williams, Gonzalez and Bell give the D-backs a solid core of veteran leaders.foot box that comprises the first basemanOs chest. One scout who followed his All-America career as a UNLV shortstop believes Williams could have used those hands and that arm to become the next Johnny Bench. Showalter looks up at the depth chart in his office and says, ORight now, MattOs our best shortstop.O
WilliamsO first season in Arizona was a disappointment, to him and everyone else. He battled through injuries to hit 20 homers and drive in 71 runs. But he beat himself up so much his brother Bart asked, OIf this game is so much of a struggle, why donOt you do something else?O
Williams led the NL in RBI (122) with the Giants in 1990 and was on a pace to hit 61 homers (43 in 112 games) before the strike hit in O94. He has hit .300 twice and has driven in 100 runs three times. But this year he is a more consistent, more thorough hitter. Early in his career he was prone to grand streaks of success and interminable slumps. He had a particularly strong jones for the breaking ball in the dirt. This year, at age 33, he is showing signs of having his best season. Perhaps WilliamsO true test will come in the second half. Since neither Bell nor Gonzalez is likely to maintain his current pace, it will fall on Williams to carry the DiamondbacksO run production. His consistency is exemplified by one statistic: He and Barry Bonds entered this season as the only players to have hit 20 homers in each of the past nine seasons. Williams hit his 20th homer in June, giving him 10 straight.
He is quietly putting together a career worthy of Hall of Fame considerationNnot that he would ever suggest as much. OThatOs the way Matt was raised,O says Bart. OYouOll never, ever hear him say, OIOm the man,O or OLook what IOve done.O O
The same chivalrous principle dictated his courtship of actress Michelle Johnson, whose credits include Blame It on Rio, Death Becomes Her and Far and Away. Their first meeting 18 months ago was a blind date, which immediately imbues themNthe ballplayer and the actressNwith a certain level of humanity.
WilliamsO performance on that first date, however, wasnOt All-Star caliber. They were introduced by WilliamsO interior decorator at WilliamsO house. Johnson, not a baseball fan at the time, knew only that Williams was a ballplayer. When she saw the four Gold Gloves and four Silver Slugger bats on the mantel, she said, OWow, you must be pretty good.O Williams, entirely in character, replied, OI do okay, I guessO
After the introduction, the mutual friend dismissed herself, leaving Williams and Johnson alone. Williams, however, missed the sign. He got up, said goodbye to Johnson and walked her to her car, ignoring the fact that she had driven three hours to meet him and hadnOt had dinner.
OI was thinking, OCanOt we at least get a pizza?O O Michelle says. OIOm not really much of a gallant guy,O Matt admits. OAs soon as she drove off I said to myself, OStupid! What did you just do?O O
Williams called Johnson the next day for a second date. This time, when it was time to say goodbye, Williams looked Michelle in the eye and asked her to be his steady girl. The request nearly melted Johnson, and set the course of their relationship. They were married on Jan. 15, the anniversary of their first date.
Four hours before game time, Williams sits in the DiamondbacksO dugout. His beautiful movie-star wife sits next to him. His two daughters play on the field at Bank One Ballpark. His son is in the clubhouse, putting on his game uniform. His D-backs are in first place. The midday Arizona sun is deflected by the closed roof, its heat trumped by the BOBOs massive air conditioning. At this precise moment, with no code to uphold, he might be the most contented man in baseball.
But in four hours, the smile will disappear along with the contentment. Williams is a perfectionist in a profession that doesnOt allow perfection. Failure is out there, and he must face it. Failure is the bogeyman jumping on the roof, threatening and insistent, never more than a few boards away. Face it, then fight it.
ItOs the only way he knows.