CLEARWATER, Fla. — Walk into Charlie Manuel's office and it's like pulling on an old glove. It's as if you're sitting in the living room with somebody you've known all your life.
He invites everybody in.
"That's Charlie," says Jim Thome, 34. "He made me feel that way the first time I met him when I was just 19. He has that special knack for making you feel comfortable."
Thome was a skinny kid from Peoria, Ill., in extended spring training in 1990. He'd been drafted by the Cleveland Indians in the 13th round the June before, and Manuel was a roving hitting instructor in the franchise's farm system.
From that moment they've been all but joined at the hip. They've seldom been apart for long and again are wearing the same uniform — Manuel the Philadelphia Phillies' new manager and Thome their slugging first baseman.
"Charlie Manuel is the reason Jim's in the major leagues," says Thome's father, Chuck, who's trying to put his life back together after the death from cancer of his wife and Jim's mother Jan. 5.
Chuck Thome, speaking on the phone from his Peoria home, says when Thome was sent to that extended spring training, the Indians wondered if he was a prospect. They weren't sure he was good enough for any ballclub they had.
"They sent Charlie out to check on a kid who had received a big bonus and was supposed to be a hot-shot prospect," Chuck says. "Well, after a few days Charlie told the Indians he didn't know about that player but said, 'This kid Thome is doing everything asked of him, and he's going to hit. You better find him a job.' "
Manuel remembers, "They sent Buddy Bell and me to spring training to check out some players. In this one game Jimmy hit a couple of foul balls, then ripped a liner over the third-base bag. Buddy and I were sitting on the bench, and after Thome got forced out at second base, he came back and wedged himself between us, wanting to hear how well he hit the ball.
"We gave him the silent treatment, but he looked at us like a little kid. Finally, I hit him on the back of the head and said, 'Good hittin', kid.' You should have seen the big smile across his face. From that day on he was always trying to hang around me."
Thome was sent to Burlington in 1990 and hit .373 with 12 homers.
"He was a slow starter, kinda naive, but once he got it he got it very quickly," Manuel adds.
"He's probably the most coachable kid I've ever had, but he did all the work. He wasn't afraid to try things I'd tell him."
There are those who insist Thome was instrumental in getting the job for his longtime mentor and friend after Larry Bowa was fired with a game to go last season.
All sides deny that but agree it was Thome who did talk the Phillies into bringing Manuel into the organization. He was hired as special assistant to general manager Ed Wade soon after Thome left the Indians, signing a six-year, $85 million deal before the 2003 season.
"Charlie didn't come here to be manager of the Phillies," Thome insists. "He came here to help with my transition.
"He made it a lot easier."
Manuel, 61, managed Thome for parts of three years in the minors, and after serving as hitting coach, he became the Indians skipper in 2000. He was fired three months before Thome left as a free agent.
Manuel was manager at Class AAA Charlotte, Thome's final year (1993) in the minors before he was promoted to the Indians for good in August. At Charlotte, Thome hit .332, blasted 25 homers and drove in 102 runs.
Thome says Manuel is excellent at teaching the mental side of hitting, but "he makes you believe you can conquer anything in this game, to stick with it. He brings a higher level of confidence to the table. He'll make guys with average ability feel like they're Superman."
Manuel was hired to calm a Phillies clubhouse stressed and wound tight by Bowa's intense personality. Reuniting their top hitter with Manuel is a huge plus even though division rivals the Braves, Marlins and Mets improved much more during the offseason.
"I owe a lot of my career to Charlie," says Thome, who's dedicating 2005 to his mother, Joyce, who was 68.
"I've had the opportunity to have somebody I can relate to and go to when times are bad. For me, it's wonderful for him to get another opportunity to manage."
There have been times when Manuel, the manager and coach, has come down hard on Thome.
"Big time," Thome says. "It's almost like that father-son relationship. He's pinch-hit for me late in a game, and I couldn't understand why he was doing that. Did I like it? No. But I respected his decision because he was doing it for the club."
Manuel wants Thome to be more "energetic in the clubhouse, to speak up more."
Thome says, "We have so many players who lead by different examples. I think he wants us all to make us feel good about what's going on in the clubhouse."
Manuel says there's no dark side to Jim Thome. He's one of the nicest, down-to-earth professionals you'll ever meet. Many of today's major leaguers should take a chapter from his book.
"My mom taught me how to treat people with dignity," says Thome, a trace of a tear obvious. "Charlie Manuel is the same way. To him, it doesn't matter if you have a No. 3 on your jersey or a No. 78. He's going to make sure you feel comfortable and you've had a chance to associate with him during that day. He respects what it takes to be a major leaguer."
A lesson he's taught Jim Thome quite well.
USA Today
He invites everybody in.
"That's Charlie," says Jim Thome, 34. "He made me feel that way the first time I met him when I was just 19. He has that special knack for making you feel comfortable."
Thome was a skinny kid from Peoria, Ill., in extended spring training in 1990. He'd been drafted by the Cleveland Indians in the 13th round the June before, and Manuel was a roving hitting instructor in the franchise's farm system.
From that moment they've been all but joined at the hip. They've seldom been apart for long and again are wearing the same uniform — Manuel the Philadelphia Phillies' new manager and Thome their slugging first baseman.
"Charlie Manuel is the reason Jim's in the major leagues," says Thome's father, Chuck, who's trying to put his life back together after the death from cancer of his wife and Jim's mother Jan. 5.
Chuck Thome, speaking on the phone from his Peoria home, says when Thome was sent to that extended spring training, the Indians wondered if he was a prospect. They weren't sure he was good enough for any ballclub they had.
"They sent Charlie out to check on a kid who had received a big bonus and was supposed to be a hot-shot prospect," Chuck says. "Well, after a few days Charlie told the Indians he didn't know about that player but said, 'This kid Thome is doing everything asked of him, and he's going to hit. You better find him a job.' "
Manuel remembers, "They sent Buddy Bell and me to spring training to check out some players. In this one game Jimmy hit a couple of foul balls, then ripped a liner over the third-base bag. Buddy and I were sitting on the bench, and after Thome got forced out at second base, he came back and wedged himself between us, wanting to hear how well he hit the ball.
"We gave him the silent treatment, but he looked at us like a little kid. Finally, I hit him on the back of the head and said, 'Good hittin', kid.' You should have seen the big smile across his face. From that day on he was always trying to hang around me."
Thome was sent to Burlington in 1990 and hit .373 with 12 homers.
"He was a slow starter, kinda naive, but once he got it he got it very quickly," Manuel adds.
"He's probably the most coachable kid I've ever had, but he did all the work. He wasn't afraid to try things I'd tell him."
There are those who insist Thome was instrumental in getting the job for his longtime mentor and friend after Larry Bowa was fired with a game to go last season.
All sides deny that but agree it was Thome who did talk the Phillies into bringing Manuel into the organization. He was hired as special assistant to general manager Ed Wade soon after Thome left the Indians, signing a six-year, $85 million deal before the 2003 season.
"Charlie didn't come here to be manager of the Phillies," Thome insists. "He came here to help with my transition.
"He made it a lot easier."
Manuel, 61, managed Thome for parts of three years in the minors, and after serving as hitting coach, he became the Indians skipper in 2000. He was fired three months before Thome left as a free agent.
Manuel was manager at Class AAA Charlotte, Thome's final year (1993) in the minors before he was promoted to the Indians for good in August. At Charlotte, Thome hit .332, blasted 25 homers and drove in 102 runs.
Thome says Manuel is excellent at teaching the mental side of hitting, but "he makes you believe you can conquer anything in this game, to stick with it. He brings a higher level of confidence to the table. He'll make guys with average ability feel like they're Superman."
Manuel was hired to calm a Phillies clubhouse stressed and wound tight by Bowa's intense personality. Reuniting their top hitter with Manuel is a huge plus even though division rivals the Braves, Marlins and Mets improved much more during the offseason.
"I owe a lot of my career to Charlie," says Thome, who's dedicating 2005 to his mother, Joyce, who was 68.
"I've had the opportunity to have somebody I can relate to and go to when times are bad. For me, it's wonderful for him to get another opportunity to manage."
There have been times when Manuel, the manager and coach, has come down hard on Thome.
"Big time," Thome says. "It's almost like that father-son relationship. He's pinch-hit for me late in a game, and I couldn't understand why he was doing that. Did I like it? No. But I respected his decision because he was doing it for the club."
Manuel wants Thome to be more "energetic in the clubhouse, to speak up more."
Thome says, "We have so many players who lead by different examples. I think he wants us all to make us feel good about what's going on in the clubhouse."
Manuel says there's no dark side to Jim Thome. He's one of the nicest, down-to-earth professionals you'll ever meet. Many of today's major leaguers should take a chapter from his book.
"My mom taught me how to treat people with dignity," says Thome, a trace of a tear obvious. "Charlie Manuel is the same way. To him, it doesn't matter if you have a No. 3 on your jersey or a No. 78. He's going to make sure you feel comfortable and you've had a chance to associate with him during that day. He respects what it takes to be a major leaguer."
A lesson he's taught Jim Thome quite well.
USA Today
