SECTION: SPORTS; Pg. 81

LENGTH: 737 words

HEADLINE: TORRE KEEPS THINGS IN PERSPECTIVE

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:
ANAHEIM - Sometimes your starter gives up eight runs in less than three innings, the other side rounds the bases like cartoon bunny rabbits, and you lose, 12-6, to the Angels.

How bad was it last night at Edison Field? Suffice it to say that David Cone had no fastball, no slider, no splitter, no positive identification to prove he was a major-league pitcher. And, yes, that was offensive tackle Mo Vaughn stealing a base, his first in three years.

So it was pretty ugly stuff, all around. But when Joe Torre led his team out of town toward Seattle early this morning, the Yanks were still a .667 ballclub and he'd already survived the worst heckling of his career. Torre had been insulted and mocked, his team targeted for abuse. Not by those mellow Angels fans, who will never be confused for Bleacher Creatures. The humiliation had occurred on Tuesday, at the Friars Club in Beverly Hills, where Torre appeared as the guest of honor at a Milton Berle charity roast.

Billy Crystal joked that Torre must have hated the clock adjustment for Daylight Savings Time, because his pitching staff instantly grew an hour older. Comedian Jeffrey Ross said George Steinbrenner was too busy to bother with Torre just yet because he was, "busy leaving a pink slip on Billy Martin's grave."

Even Don Zimmer had a couple of one-liners ready, but he wasn't called to the dais and never got to deliver them.

"Oh, they were more than one line, believe me," Zimmer said.

Torre, ever the manager, felt badly about that and let Zimmer recite his jokes on the bus to the ballpark.

"They weren't bad," Torre said of Zim's zingers. "But I'm sure his delivery was better on the bus than it would have been at the microphone."

Win two. Lose one. Laugh a little. Head for the next city. An up-and-down spring had turned into a non-disastrous beginning. With two victories already in his pocket, Torre could get away with this sort of spanking last night. He again eluded the agonies that come with 0-and-something starts in pinstripes.

"You avoid the nasty headlines," Torre said.

Torre's patience, his folksy, "Uncle Joe" perspective, long ago became his stock trademark.

Frank Dolson, the former Philadelphia Inquirer columnist who is now a liaison in the clubhouse for Steinbrenner, relates a postgame scene behind closed doors at the 1996 World Series. The Yanks had dropped Game 1 at home, and Steinbrenner was in Torre's office, saying they better win Game 2.

This was classic Steinbrenner, and the classic response from his managers over the years had always been, "Don't worry, we'll win it." Torre was somebody very different, considerably better centered than Martin or even Buck Showalter, his uptight predecessor.

Torre logically informed Steinbrenner that the Yankees could very well lose Game 2, as well, because they were obviously rusty from some time off and were facing Greg Maddux, the Braves' ace. He assured his boss, however, that things eventually would turn around when the Series reached Atlanta.

The Yanks lost Game 2, then swept the Braves four straight.

Ever since, Steinbrenner has given Torre some extra slack on the leash. Torre never had to suffer the sort of Tier 3 tantrums that once tortured men like Yogi Berra, so famously fired in 1985 after an unfortunate start.

Surprisingly, Torre seems just as comfortable at the sort of celebrity de-pantsing he suffered on Tuesday. He met Milton Berle 35 years ago, after Berle invited him to watch a game with his wife, Ruth, at Dodgers Stadium. He knows Crystal since the start of his Yankee tenure, and occasionally receives good luck phone calls from the comedian.

Up on the dais, as elsewhere, Torre is very different from the other New York manager, much-maligned Bobby Valentine. When Valentine was roasted by the Baseball Writers Association of America this year, he felt it necessary to defend himself when it was his turn to speak.

When it was Torre's turn on Tuesday, he merely told another joke.

"The reason I don't smile in the dugout is because George doesn't want people to see you're having a good time," he said.

EVERYBODY LAUGHED. People get a closer look into the heart and soul of Valentine, who engages people head-on. Nobody really knows Torre, who keeps acquaintances at a safe distance. At the same time, somehow, he makes them confident and wins championships.

Smooth and easy carries the day. Just not every night.

LOAD-DATE: April 6, 2000