ANGELS' SUCCESS ROOTED IN DISTANT PAST.

Byline: BOB KEISSER

Anyone looking for the seminal birthdate of the first Angels' World Series title is liable to become confused.

In some ways, it was born Oct. 12, 1986, the blackest day in franchise history: Game 5 of the 1986 American League Championship Series against the Boston Red Sox, One Strike Away. The loss essentially ended a decade of trying to buy a World Series by stockpiling superstars.

There were several free-agent acquisitions to come, but nothing like before. The nucleus of the 1986 team had only three players reared in the system - Wally Joyner, Gary Pettis and Mike Witt - and by 1987 several of those pricey free agents had moved on, including Reggie Jackson and Bobby Grich.

The beginning of the home-grown era can be pegged to 1993, when the early seeds planted by Bill Bavasi, who would become the team's general manager in 1994, turned into young stars like Tim Salmon and Garret Anderson and gave the team a time-honored, replenish-at-the-source farm system.

There's no overlooking Nov. 18, 1999, either, which is the day the franchise hired former Dodgers catcher Mike Scioscia as its manager.

Whatever Scioscia lacked in hands-on managerial experience, which amounted to one season at the Dodgers' Triple-A affiliate under the buffoon regime of Kevin Malone, was made up by the other things he offered.

He was an everyday catcher for more than a decade, knew how to handle a pitching staff and make game decisions, and was part of two World Series teams. The clubhouse insurrection over former manager Terry Collins was fueled somewhat by the fact Collins never played in the major leagues.

Scioscia was the product of a respected franchise that built from within and passed traditions from one generation to the next. It helped, too, that he was never a victim of the Angels' past. He walked into the clubhouse knowing and caring little about the alleged ghosts that plagued others before him, like former Angels players-turned-managers Jim Fregosi and Buck Rodgers.

Some critics viewed Scioscia's hiring as a cost-effective and expedient Disney hire. But after the cacophony of his first two seasons, which saw Mo Vaughn become a divisive element and Disney management become an irritant, Scioscia this spring calmly steered everyone's attention back to baseball.

Old-fashioned baseball, too. It's been called National League or Small Ball at various times, but the better term is basic baseball, the kind that won games 20, 50 and 100 years ago - understand the fundamentals, execute them, play as a team, trust each other - and won the Angels a World Series in 2002.

In spring training, Scioscia had a meeting with the hitters and sold them on a system that sounded bizarre in an era of home runs and ego-fulfillment.

Take more pitches. Be more selective. Check your home run ego at the door. Advance the runner and run the bases aggressively, two old baseball fossils that still work if you care to try.

As a result, the Angels got into an opponent's bullpen sooner than later, with their decimation of the Twins' bullpen in the ALCS the best example. Scott Spiezio's three-run home run that started the comeback in Game 6 was a perfect example of working an at-bat. He fouled off several good pitches before getting a pitch he could drive into the seats.

The three-run rally became the team's ID card, and they dropped innings of three runs or more a stunning 12 times in 16 postseason games, including seven times in the 60 innings of the World Series.

There's a difference between a team that steals bases and one that runs aggressively, and the Angels perfected the latter. So many of the Angels' big innings this season were built on runners going from first to third on a single, a hitter taking second base on a throw elsewhere, or someone breaking up a double play.

``Mike told everybody he was going to be aggressive and that we needed to manufacture runs if we're going to be a championship team,'' hitting coach Mickey Hatcher said. ``It was more important to have a good on-base percentage and score and drive in runs than it was to hit .300 and 30 home runs. We needed that kind of philosophy.

``The recognition this team is getting now is that of a team that plays the game the right way.''

The team spirit was also felt in the locker room.

For years, the Angels' clubhouse had all the warmth of a meat locker. Too many mercenaries, too many veterans in their last days, too volatile a mix, too few leaders.

This club got along famously. Scioscia knew the difference between being a manager and being a player, and he allowed the players to find their own comfort level even as he set the bar high for the kind of teamwork he wanted.

``I said at midseason that this team reminded me a lot of the (Dodgers) in 1988,'' Hatcher said. He, Scioscia and coach Alfredo Griffin played on that team. ``They like each other, have a lot of fun and look forward to coming to the ballpark. Those were all things we had in 1988.

``There's nothing like being around a team that enjoys being with each other and likes to play baseball.''

For half of the players, being an Angel was the only thing they knew, and it finally started to mean something as the confidence of midseason began to grow. While more than half of the Angels' nucleus were born and reared Angels, the Giants' nucleus included just two career Giants, Rich Aurilia and Russ Ortiz.

For those Angels who began their careers elsewhere, this was their best and/or last opportunity, and they were determined to make the most of it.

This was not brand-name baseball, this was baseball as it flourished for more than a century, and even the non-baseball fans who came out to Edison Field with Rally Monkeys draped around their neck could see it was something special.

Maybe this is the bottom line for the Angels of 2002 - it might eventually be remembered less for ending 41 aching seasons than being the first season they became one of baseball's powerful franchises.

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Photo:

Before manager Mike Scioscia could walk away with the championship trophy, he first had to convince the Angels to play fundamental baseball.

Gus Ruelas/Staff Photographer