The Post’s Steve Serby sat down with the 61-year-old new manager of the Mets for a wide-ranging interview.
Q: You once said: “I’m not the monster some people think I am.” Why did you feel you needed to say that?
A: I don’t just hide in a closet. I know what’s being said, and everybody’s making me out to be this really intense guy that people don’t like. That’s not true. There are some people that don’t like me, and there’ll be some people in that locker room next summer that don’t like me. I remember Sandy (Koufax) said, bleep, he didn’t necessarily care for Walt (Alston).
Kenny Forsch told me one day, “I don’t know if I ever played for a manager I really liked.” I think it all comes down to the respect side of it all. You talk to Jim Palmer about Earl (Weaver), Hall of Fame manager, and they won. But you gotta respect the game first. I demand them to respect the game a little bit, so they’ll play the game right.
Q: Here’s a quote from (longtime pitching coach) Ray Miller: “From the other dugout across the field, Terry Collins is a jerk. But if he’s on your side, you love him. He’ll go to war for his players.”
A: That’s pretty accurate. But you know what? We also said that same thing about Paul O’Neill. I remember when I got to the American League we’d play the Yankees. Couldn’t stand him on the other side of the field. And when you’d talk to the Yankees, they said he’s the best teammate in baseball.
Q: What won’t you tolerate on your club?
A: Lack of respect, pretty much. If you don’t respect the game, you’re not gonna give it your effort.
Q: You don’t have many rules. . . . just be on time, and play hard.
A: I’ll have a (road) curfew, for protection of the organization
. . . after a game. Two o’clock in the morning or something. If you get a guy who gets in trouble at 3 o’clock in the morning, he broke a team rule, so you’re kind of protected.
Q: Did you do that in your previous stops?
A: Absolutely. Nobody checks rooms anymore. For me, you gotta be protected.
Q: Your DUI eight years ago?
A: The answer’s very simple — it’s the most embarrassing, humiliating experience of my life. I had never in my life done anything wrong. Anything. By the way, the thing about the license was not in the car? There was a license in the car. The policeman just didn’t find it. And the reason why I was driving on a flat tire — this is why it’s such a stupid thing — ’cause the hotel was two blocks away. So I’m driving just to get to the hotel to park the car. The dumbest thing I’ve ever done . . . the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done . . . cost me thousands of dollars . . . cost me huge (in) reputation. And nothing’s ever happened since, and I will guarantee you it will never happen (again). . . . ’Cause I had to tell the counselor: “The last time you see me will be the last time you ever see me.”
Q: Your definition of a gamer?
A: A gamer’s a guy who, when he takes the field, he plays it like it’ll be the last game he ever plays in how he wants to be remembered.
Q: Players from the ’50’s, ’60’s, ’70’s who played the game the way it is meant to be played?
A: I’m gonna probably really miss some guys . . . I grew up in Michigan, so the likes of Dick McAuliffe, Don Wert, Mickey Stanley, Al Kaline. They played the game every night hard . . . maxed out. In the ’70s, I think about some of the guys obviously Pete (Rose), probably the ultimate gamer. When I was with the Pirates at the time, I watched Dave Cash play the game very, very hard. Gene Alley played the game hard . . . Roberto Clemente . . . they had some serious gamers.
Q: Adjectives you think describe you?
A: I’m energetic. . . . I’m intense. . . . I care, about people, and things, but I care. I’m fair . . . I’m respectful.
Q: Do you think you’re similar in temperament to Billy Martin?
A: I think I was at one time. I think I’ve calmed down, certainly. I got much more respect for the players today and what they go through. It’s a different game today.
Q: What drives you?
A: I love to compete. I love to try to beat ya.
Q: What did you take from your talks with Roy Campanella, Don Drysdale and Sandy Koufax?
A: When they opened their mouth, you just sat back and listened. You used to listen to Campy talk about handling pitchers, and calling a game. Every time he talked, you just could hear his leadership. It just came out. You could tell he was in charge.
And when you talked to Don about pitching and his toughness and his non-foolishness about the game — “Hey look, I’m gonna come out and I’m gonna beat your (butt) tonight. And, if you get me tonight, I’ll see you in five days” . . . back then, it would be three days . . . “I’m comin’ at you again.”
And when Sandy explains how he prepared for a season? It was shocking to listen to what he did to get ready. And then you look at the other guys and said so, “This is the greatest left-hander that ever pitched, and you don’t think you should try some of this?”
Q: What did he specifically talk about?
A: Well, he talked about his preparation in spring training, how he went nine innings twice at the end of spring training to get ready for opening day. He said, “Terry, your first outing? You get by on adrenaline. It’s that second start, when that adrenaline seeped out of your system now, that you gotta be ready for.” So he said, “I’d go pitch in Triple-A, threw a nine-inning game.” He and Don both did it.
Q: Would you want all your pitchers to have Drysdale’s mentality?
A: Yeah. I sure would. Everybody’s an individual, but Don’s desire to win, to be successful . . . Of course, he was a big, tough guy, but he was not intimidated by anything or any situation. Some days were good, some days weren’t, but yet he always dealt with it as positively as he could. You know the story about the day he pitched and when Sandy didn’t pitch during Yom Kippur, and he got his (butt) kicked by the Twins. Walt (Alston) came to take him out of the game, and he looked at him, he said, “I bet you wish I was Jewish today, don’t you?”
Q: But he also pitched inside.
A: He told me one day, he said, “Terry, I’ll tell ya, I hit guys.” But he said, “You know what? I mighta hit guys, some accidentally, but I never intentionally threw at anybody unless they threw at us first.
Q: And if a pitcher throws at one of your guys?
A: If I think it’s intentional, certainly we gotta do something about it.
Q: If you could pick the brains of two or three baseball people that you haven’t spoken to, who would you choose?
A: I probably would like to talk to Willie Mays . . . Casey Stengel . . . Shoeless Joe Jackson.
Q: Why each of those three?
A: Well, I’ve heard so many stories about Willie, I’d like to really know what made him tick, how he approached the game. Here’s a guy that got knocked down on a daily basis, and got up, and was great. As a matter of fact, you can add Jackie Robinson, and what he had to go through to be successful.
Q: Casey?
A: Just his handling of people. When you’re around as good a players as he was around, he got ’em ready to play, and I want to know how he did it.
Q: Shoeless Joe Jackson?
A: Why [did he throw the World Series]?
Q: Best baseball team you ever saw?
A: The Pirates of 1979 . . . and probably one of the Big Red Machines.
Q: What do you remember about the ’69 Mets?
A: Miracle Mets? Obviously (Jerry)Koosman, (Tom) Seaver, the great pitching. I remember seeing them in the World Series. They didn’t have a cast of really necessarily big-name players on the team, yet they really played good together.
Q: The ’86 Mets?
A: Kind of the same thing, had pretty good pitching. That team probably had some bigger names of Gary (Carter) and Ray (Knight) and Mookie (Wilson), they were a little more household names to me at that time. Darryl (Strawberry) was a great player . . . Lenny (Dykstra), Wally (Backman) . . . played the game so hard. It was a great mix of the superstar and the next-tier player being able to play together.
Q: Biggest lesson you learned from Jim Leyland?
A: His handling of the media. He treated every guy the same, whether it was the kid out of college who came in, who’s never seen a baseball game in his life and asked dumb-dumb questions. Jim treated (him) as if he was from the New York Post. I saw him being asked a question one night in Cincinnati by some young kid, and the other six guys in the room started laughing. And Jim never changed his expression, he just said, “Well, this is why I did that.”
Q: Will you be that way?
A: I hope so. You guys got jobs to do. Your job’s to sell newspapers.
Q: Coaches in other sports you admire?
A: Well, obviously, Vince Lombardi. A guy the players necessarily didn’t like, yet played for.
Q: Do you care if you’re liked?
A: It’s nice to be liked. But no, I don’t care as long as they respect me, and understand what it took me to get here. Joe Maddon, myself, Jim Leyland, who didn’t play in the big leagues . . . a lot of times there’s certain guys who say, “Well we don’t understand” because we never played here. Bull(bleep)! I earned my way here just as a player earned his way to the big leagues. I spent 21 years in the minor leagues, I spent seven years in winter ball.
I worked my (butt) off to get to where I’m at today. Don’t tell me I don’t know what’s goin’ on. I told one of my players one year, “If I played today? You’d be watching me play.” When I played, there was only 20 teams. Or 24 teams. I was with a team with the Dodgers at one time where the infield was together for 12 years in a row. There was no place for anybody to go.
Q: Other coaches?
A: Dean Smith. Every year he had new players, and every year when they leave, they talk about him, how impressive he was to work for. Chuck Daly, ’cause that team of misfits, kind of, the (Bill) Laimbeers and the (Dennis) Rodmans, he made ‘em champions, in a place that people accepted losing. And (Daly) didn’t (accept it).
Q: Athletes in other sports you’ve admired?
A: Obviously one guy who comes to mind is Michael Jordan. Just his gift and how he played the game, and wanting to be the best. Magic (Johnson), same thing. . . . Rocky Bleier . . . just hard-nosed, what have I gotta do to gain a yard, to catch a pass, to make a block?
Q: How often as a kid were you told you were too small
(5-foot-9) to play?
A: Weekly.
Q: Did it bother you?
A: No, ’cause I actually knew I was better than a lot of people. I tell an anecdote, when I was 6 years old, I came home one day and my mom said she had gotten a call from one of the little neighbor boy’s mother who said she was not gonna allow her son to play with me anymore ’cause I played too hard.
Q: Boyhood idol?
A: Mickey Mantle.
Q: Why?
A: Because he was the best player. He was the biggest star. He always seemed to be the guy everybody wanted to watch play.
Q: How often did you go to Tiger Stadium?
A: I went to a Tiger game once a year for about five years when I was in Little League. And then I played a game in Tiger Stadium in the summer of my senior year in high school, and didn’t go back ’til I managed the Angels. . . . Actually, that’s not true. I went on my 21st birthday to a game in Tiger Stadium. Watched Mel Stottlemyre of the Yankees lose to the Tigers 1-0, Willie Horton hit a home run in the ninth inning against Mel, who ultimately became my pitching coach in Houston.
Q: What was that like playing in Tiger Stadium?
A: You thought you were playing in this huge canyon. I saw some players during practice hit balls out of the ballpark, I’m thinking, “Ohmigod, these guys are unbelievable!” Little did I know when I went back with the Angels, it was one of the easiest places in baseball to hit a home run.
Q: Did you collect baseball cards?
A: I did. I had bunches. When I grew up and left the house, my mom just threw ’em away. I had everybody’s card. It’s pretty funny, I was going through stuff one time, and I had a Sandy Koufax card, and ultimately, he became one of my good friends. I had this card for a while and it ended up disappearing, but I always wondered, “I wonder if I could have him sign this card.”
Q: Biggest influence growing up?
A: My father.
Q: Why?
A: Because he taught me to play any game I did, and when the game is over, be able to look myself in the mirror knowing I did my best. And if I could do that, never to feel bad whether we won or lost the game. We’ve all grown up playing the game to win, and my dad said, “Winning’s great. But it’s how you play the game that’s more important.” And I never forgot that. I had left the minor leagues, I was home one year, and I was gonna get out of baseball. And my father said, “You’ve had a ball in your hand since you were a little boy. If you still love it, do it until it’s no fun anymore. And when it’s no fun, those other jobs will always be there.” He’s the reason I stayed in the game.
Q: What year are we talking about?
A: 1978.
Q: Why were you going to leave?
A: I had been in Triple-A for a number of years, I wasn’t going anywhere, I was a player-coach. As you know, in the minor leagues, you weren’t making any money. I loved playing, but I just knew I wasn’t going anywhere. And some job opportunities were coming around at that time, and people had asked me about getting into some businesses.
Q: Was there a point in Triple-A when you felt you were so close to getting that call to the major leagues?
A: In 1977, I was a backup player, and I was having a pretty good couple of weeks, and Teddy Martinez, a middle infielder for the Dodgers, got hurt, and they called down, and the manager told me when the season was over, that they called down, “Hey we need a guy for 10 days,” and he said, “Well gee, you oughta take Terry Collins. He can play everywhere on the field.” And they said, “Yeah OK, but we want a guy on the roster so that we don’t have to make any roster moves,” so they took Rafael Landestoy, who ultimately that year played in the World Series ’cause Teddy Martinez never came back.
Q: Your emotions the day you retired as a player?
A: I knew it was time to move on. I had wanted to become a coach, and I stayed in professional baseball. I wrote a letter to my mother my first spring training. Which I found the day she died, I went into her stuff and found this letter. And it said, “My God, There’s guys here that are almost 30 years old playing in the minor leagues.” I said, “Mom, I’m gonna give this three years and if I’m not in the big leagues, I’m comin’ home and getting a job. Forty years later, I’m still doing it.
Q: Was it in any way heartbreaking or unfulfilling to you that you never made the big leagues?
A: No, because I played hard. I played as hard as I could. I gave it all I had, and had a great time. Do I wish I would have played more? Yeah, but I knew players were better than me.
Q: You still get by on five hours sleep?
A: Six. I was retired for a while, it got up to six.
Q: You married your third wife (Deborah) 10 months ago. Was she married previously?
A: Yes. For 27 years. Her husband died a year ago. Good friend of mine, a kid we went to high school with. Was a Vietnam vet, and suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. I was in China when he died. And I called her because we were lifelong friends. Matter of fact, at one time, we’d even talked about maybe getting married when we were 20 years old, ’cause I was dating her at the time. We were both in college.
Q: Is it safe to say that good, old-fashioned hardball will be coming back to Flushing?
A: Well I certainly hope so. Just talking to these guys? That kind of attitude — it’s there. It’s there. I just think they really have to start believing in themselves. Give themselves a little credit.