Heeeere's Ozzie!

It seems that Venezuela has never been without All-Star representation at shortstop. Concepcion later starred for the Cincinnati Reds and inspired yet another generation of shortstop wannabes, kids like Guillen, who now wears Concepcion's number, 13, and copies his hosiery style—stirrups worn low so there is little white showing. But Guillen does not trace his success to Concepcion; rather he is another product of Ernesto Aparicio.

When Ozzie's mother, Violeta, a school principal, was moved to Los Teques from the town of Ocumare del Tuy, Ozzie, too, fell under the sway of the great teacher. Ernesto noticed him at play in the streets and encouraged him to take some instruction, before and after school. Ozzie was 11 at the time and in appropriate awe of the education he was about to receive. When Ozzie took a grounder in the lip early in his apprenticeship, Ernesto found he could barely persuade him to leave the game for his seven stitches. Ozzie was not yet a teenager, but Ernesto realized he had the makings of another big leaguer on his hands.

As for Ozzie, he also realized what was taking place. "Ernesto was building another shortstop," he says. "Grounding balls to me every day before school, teaching me little tricks. He was the only one who believed I could be shortstop at the professional level."

Ernesto was apparently more inspiring than any of Ozzie's other teachers. When Ozzie was in high school, some of his teachers addressed the principal, a certain Mrs. Guillen, about the matter of Ozzie's schoolwork. "Ooh, my mother, she tough," says Guillen, as if to this day he remains astonished by what happened. "She tells the teachers, 'Flunk him.' " They did, and that was the end of school for Ozzie. Anyway, there was the impending reality of professional baseball. At 16 he continued his shortstop education by playing with a Venezuelan winter league team, coached by—who else—Luis Aparicio. "He tough too," says Guillen. "Never played me."

He had a little more to learn, a little more to grow. But Chico, Ernesto and Luis saw something already in place that they could never teach. Ozzie's love for the game was impressive even for a Venezuelan shortstop. "He worked hard," says Carrasquel. "When he started as a pro, and the games started at 7:30, he would be in the ballpark at 2:00, taking grounders."

That anyone could not love this game is baffling to Guillen. "Not too many people can be a baseball player," he reminds you. "A professional baseball player is the luckiest guy to be there. And that's why I enjoy the most I can and have more fun than anybody in this game. I love it."

There is nobody within earshot who would guess otherwise. Guillen's happiness with the game, with his life, is one big verbal experience for anyone who runs into him. Take his wife. Ivis Cardenas Guillen is a striking woman who happened into Ozzie's tremendous range of patter one day. They were still teenagers when she met him while riding a bus home from Caracas, and he treated her, whether she wanted it or not. to a little state of the union address. "The whole bus trip I talk about my girlfriend, my friends, everything," says Ozzie. "I am not shy. But I never tell her I play baseball. She asks what do I do, I say, 'Oh, I work in a bank." I make it up. She says, 'Me too.' And she wants to know exactly what I do at the bank. I get away with it, but I'm wondering why I don't tell her I'm a fireman."

That was the last time he had to pretend to be anything but a baseball player. Within four years he was the second player coached by Ernesto to become Rookie of the Year. "Maybe," suggests Guillen, "he will have two Hall of Famers, too."

If so, it will be because Guillen worked at it. This spring the man with the golden glove was taking extra grounders, working with weights for the first time and generally behaving like a desperate rookie. Herm Schneider, the White Sox trainer, says that no other big leaguer he knows has this kind of attitude. "He's like a little kid playing sandlot ball," Schneider says. "I see all these guys, and I know they like baseball, but I don't know if everybody really enjoys it. Ozzie just loves it."

As much as he adores his work, Guillen is nevertheless beginning to think there is life beyond baseball. The White Sox media guide notes that Guillen has appeared in a Venezuelan soap opera. Actually he starred in two TV miniseries that have aired, with two more yet to hit the tube. "He was pretty good in the ones I saw," says Dodger catcher Carlos Hernandez, a Venezuelan. "No bit part; he was the Number One actor. Everybody loved him in those shows."