DISCIPLINED TEMS THAT DARE
THE man with the magical touch was sitting behind his desk the other day sorting mail and choosing 8-by-10 color photographs of himself to be autographed. This was business as usual for him; at least, it seemed so because Dave Johnson was not smiling. Not on a game day. Johnson will not allow himself such irrational pleasures with his team 20 games in front and the race already over. If he is standing behind the batting cage, pacing the dugout, offering a grudging postgame analysis to the media, Johnson reveals only his hardened side. Little more. This is no facade. The man who delivered the Mets from seven consecutive losing seasons to the National League playoff in just three years is blunt, impatient and, some have said, as arrogant as his team. A sense of humor occupies but a small corner of his mind. It is not necessary to peel away layers to know Johnson, the manager. But there are other, more intricate, sides that demand a thorough look, if only because they are part of the whole.
