High-Flying Javy

Model Plane Enthusiast Lopez Takes Off In Baltimore

On a team abounding with pizzazz and bluster, Javy Lopez is the quiet Oriole. Miguel Tejada might yell encouragement to his teammates from the dugout steps and do his fancy, hand-slapping fandango on the infield with Melvin Mora and Brian Roberts. B.J. Roberts and Daniel Cabrera might pump their fists in exuberance after notching a big strikeout. Sammy Sosa might wave to the fans and do his strut around the bases. Luis Matos and Jorge Julio might yell across the clubhouse at one another. Steve Kline might mouth off to anyone within eyesight.

But from Javy Lopez, the Oriole catcher, you are not likely to hear a peep--or witness any type of demonstrative or emotional gesture.

Amongst all the hoopla surrounding the Orioles’ early success this year, the headlines offer the boldface and the big font for the likes of Tejada, Roberts, Sosa, Cabrera, Erik Bedard and Mora.

You don’t read much about Lopez.

Which is surprising, because though Lopez is not a rah-rah guy, either on the field or in the clubhouse, his bat is full of volume and verve.

Ever since he joined the Orioles prior to the 2004 season, he has been a huge presence in the middle of the lineup. In fact, his average consistently has exceeded .300 during his Oriole career, and he has been one of the team’s top run produces in both of his years in Baltimore. (Only one day last year—on June 15—did his average slip below .300. And this season, through the firrst 35 games, he kept his average over .300 after the first few days). In 2004 Lopez batted .317—the seventh highest average in the American League—with 23 home runs and 86 RBIs. Those statistics are even more impressive when you consider that it was his first season in a new league, and that he plays the physically demanding position of catcher. Only one American League backstop played more games behind the plate last year than did Lopez.

So despite the din in the Oriole clubhouse and the loud enthusiasm with which his teammates play and romp on the field, Lopez goes about the business of playing baseball both quietly and adroitly.

“I like to keep low key,” he says, in stating the obvious. “It’s a long season, and I like to focus on the game and my family. I’ve never been a loud type of person.”

Being a quiet presence on the field and in the locker room never seemed odd or out of place to the 34-year-old catcher during the 12 years he played with the Atlanta Braves before joining the Orioles as a free agent. That’s because just as the Orioles are now a team of noisy swashbucklers, the Braves were professionally sedate.

“I thought I was kind of a normal person until I came here and saw all these crazy people—not crazy, fun,” he corrects himself, sitting bby his locker as, nearby, Tejada and Mora and Matos are engaged in their customary boisterous clubhouse banter. “But I like to listen to them and laugh.”

Regarding his lack of press coverage, he says, “I have to accept that. There’s nothing I can do. The bottom line is, I can’t let that bother me.” Lopez feels much more comfortable as an Oriole this year than he did last—and for a number of reasons.

One is that it took him a season to accustom himself to a new league. “It’s been an adjustment,” he says of coming over the American League. “It’s made me more mature. I had to learn a lot of new things that I didn’t have to learn in the National League.” He mentions playing against new teams, facing new pitchers, handling a different pitching staff, and, for the first time in a dozen major league seasons, not playing in the postseason. “So coming to the American League was a new game to me, a whole new adjustment for me. It’s a lot better now. Last year it was hard, harder than I expected. So last year was a little weird.” This year, he says, “I feel like part of the family.”

That also means he feels more in synch with the Oriole pitching staff than he did 12 months ago. And, he believes, the Baltimore pitchers know him much better. “I feel like the pitchers feel more comfortable with me right now,” he says. “We’re on the same page.”

Perhaps the biggest difference for Lopez in 2005, and the one he appreciates the most, is that manager Lee Mazzilli is not making him catch as many games as he did a year ago.

A year ago, he played in 83 of the team’s first 85 games, catching in 69 of them. This year, he caught in only 25 of the Orioles’ first 35 games, serving as the DH in most of the others.

“I was catching too much last year,” he says. “This year, I like the fact that I’m not only getting my time off as catcher, but that Geronimo Gil is getting his playing time. In case I get hurt, Geronimo is totally ready.”

It’s not that Lopez doesn’t like being behind the plate. It’s just that it can take its toll on a player, particularly one who is in his mid-30s. The Puerto Rican native would like to prolong his career by eventually switching his catcher’s mitt for a first baseman’s glove.

“I’d like to finish my career playing first base if I can,” he explains. “I’d like to extend my career a little longer that way. It’s something I think about, but for the time being, I’m still catching.”

He likes to spend time at first base during batting practice and has played first in one game this year, for the first time in his 1,262-game big league career. But if Lopez does segue over to first base permanently at some point, it’s unlikely to be this year. Mazzilli says though he hopes to give Lopez occasional rest from his catching duties, he doesn’t expect him to play much first base this season.

Lopez appreciates Mazzilli’s efforts to let him DH occasionally, rather than tire him out by catching him all year. The relief from catching every day already has produced dividends, insists Lopez. “I feel more agile, and I feel a lot quicker behind the plate,” he says. “And it also helps my hitting.” The Oriole catcher has a home in Georgia, but he enjoys living in downtown Baltimore during the baseball season. “I love being around here,” he says of the downtown and Camden Yards neighborhoods. “It’s so convenient for me. I don’t even drive. We walk everywhere.”

That doesn’t mean he stays put, however. At least once a month, he flies to Atlanta to fetch his two sons, nine-year-old Javier and five-year-old Kevin, who live with his first wife, and brings them up to Baltimore. They stay with him from Thursdays through Sundays, when he flies them back to Atlanta. “When it comes to the kids,” he says, “I’ll do anything.”

Above Lopez’ locker at Camden Yards sit a model helicopter and a Piper cub. They are part of a fleet of almost a dozen aircraft that Lopez likes to fly—electronically or by remote control. Flying these planes is his hobby. Last year he took the Piper one day and flew it at Camden Yards. The plane has a wounded wing now, but when it’s repaired, the catcher will take it out on the ball field and give it flight once more. But one thing can be sure. He’ll do it quietly and without any fanfare. Just like he plays baseball.