Playboy Interview: Ozzie Guillen

Playboy Interview:

A candid conversation with the loudmouthed White Sox manager about agents, lazy players, steroids, sports radio, paperwork and his other pet peeves

Ask any ballplayer to name the fastest-moving object in the major leagues and he'll likely point to the mouth of Chicago White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen. In a world of slick, media-savvy athletes, Guillen has no rival. Since taking over the troubled White Sox two seasons ago, Guillen, 42, has aimed his Venezuelan accent at journalists, rival managers and former players. His own team receives the worst lashings. Guillen proudly claims he "leads the league in throwing players under the bus." Last season he suggested White Sox pitcher Damaso Marte was faking an injury, blamed veteran hitter Frank Thomas for contributing to the team's prior bad attitude and called former White Sox player Magglio Ordonez a piece of shit. During a September losing streak, Guillen told the press, "We flat-out stink." The turbulence from Guillen's mouth has caused the sports media to label him alternately as savior of the Sox and an "immature, out-of-control, sensitivity-bankrupt manager." White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf refers to him as the Hispanic Jackie Mason.

But Guillen backed up his big mouth in October 2005 when he led the White Sox to their first World Series title since 1917, laying to rest what had been the second-longest streak without a championship win. If Guillen is fiery and explosive, his players aren't. The White Sox won 99 games in the regular season (the best record in the American League) without a single player hitting more than 40 home runs or a starting pitcher with an ERA under 3.00, then went 11-1 in the postseason. Guillen pushed the team to win by aggressively using the running game and using sacrifice bunts to move players around the diamond. Many games were won by only one run. Sportswriters called it Ozzie Ball.

The oldest of five siblings, Guillen was born in Ocumare, Venezuela but moved to nearby Guarenas with his mother, a grade-school principal, when he was eight, after his parents separated. He played volleyball on Venezuela's national youth team but excelled at baseball under the instruction of Ernesto Aparicio, uncle and celebrated teacher of Hall of Fame short-stop Luis Aparicio. Guillen played briefly for the La Guaira Sharks before signing with the San Diego Padres minor-league system just as he turned 17. In 1984 he was traded to the White Sox, won Rookie of the Year in 1985 and quickly became a favorite with fans who loved watching him talk to anyone on the field, including teammates, umpires and opposing players. It was the first glimpse of the Guillen mouth.

He spent 13 years with the White Sox. After the team released him, in 1997, the angry Guillen slammed Reinsdorf and management. He finished his career in 2000 after stints with the Baltimore Orioles, Atlanta Braves and Tampa Bay Devil Rays. He resurfaced as a coach with the Montreal Expos and as part of the coaching staff for the 2003 World Series-winning Florida Marlins before taking over as White Sox manager in 2004. He spends most of his time in Chicago with his wife, Ibis, and three sons, Ozzie Jr., Oney and Ozney.

We sent writer Jason Buhrmester to sit down with Guillen in Dallas during baseball's winter meetings. His report: "The lobby of the hotel was filled with baseball reporters, managers and executives. He grumbled that the conference was too much like a high school reunion, but as we walked through the lobby to the restaurant, the real Guillen surfaced; he ran across the room to hug a writer and yelled loudly to friends. He is raw and opinionated but never malicious, even when slamming other players and teams. The only two moments of genuine venom came when Guillen claimed that the media doesn't understand him and that the league doesn't acknowledge his players."

Playboy: What do you tell your players before a game?

Guillen: I always tell my players, "Whatever you did last night means shit today. That's history. Today is another game." A lot of people say I throw my players under the bus. I just tell them the truth. I don't want them to have any excuses. For instance, my pitcher Mark Buehrle said in the press last season that the Texas Rangers were using light signals to cheat. When they asked me about it, I said the way Buehrle was throwing, Texas didn't need to cheat. He was throwing shit. The next day, Brandon McCarthy threw an eightinning shutout for us. If I had protected Buehrle, people would have wondered what the fuck I was talking about. So I throw my players under the bus because I don't want them to have an excuse for anything. If you're horseshit, you're horseshit. If you're good, you're good. Don't make yourself look like an idiot.

Playboy: You have admitted you lead the league in throwing players under the bus. Have any players confronted you about a comment you've made?

Guillen: They just laugh. They took a T-shirt, had a car drive over it and then wrote Under the bus on it. Every time I say something about someone, they put his name on the shirt. So they joke around about it. And every time they see me, they make a backing-up noise like beep beep beep and say, "Here comes the bus!"

Playboy: Do you ever worry you've gone too far?

Guillen: No. I know what I have to do to motivate players. They understand where I come from and what I want for them, not for me. You win it for you. Nobody can take that shit away from you. I can't get the hit to win the game. You have to do it. You won the World Series. You're number one. You're not going to see Ozzie Guillen in the history books; you're going to see yourself.

Playboy: In September the White Sox suffered a long losing streak, nearly blowing a 15-game lead. You said, "We flat-out stink." Did players resent the comment?

Guillen: They knew we stunk. They're the first who should know. My team was losing 12 out of 13 games. We lost to Kansas City. It was not just because we lost to Kansas City but the way we lost--we were six runs up, and we lost the game. How could I have gone to the media and said we were all right? I didn't believe we were all right. We stunk. Did they make me puke? Yeah, they made me puke. I said, "What I see, I hate it. We're not that kind of team." They knew that. I didn't say anything they didn't know. If you don't like it, play better.

Playboy: What was going wrong during that month?

Guillen: Everything was wrong. We built this team around pitching, and we weren't pitching the way we should. What bothered me was that we won 99 games and people were still saying we sucked. I can't take that shit from the media or the fans. We had people saying we were a joke and were losers. How are you going to call me a loser when we won 99 games? The St. Louis Cardinals win 100 games and people say they're a great fucking team. The White Sox win 99 and they say we stink. What kind of shit is that? Just because they're the St. Louis Cardinals and we're the Chicago White Sox? That's not fair. That's my problem with the media and people in baseball. If they like it, they like it. If they don't, fuck them. I don't give a shit what they say or what they think.

Playboy: It was reported that you were so upset over the losses that you vomited in your office.

Guillen: I did a couple of times, yes, because I hate to lose. I knew we were going to lose some games, but it's how you lose, not because you lose. It's how you lose.

Playboy: Do losses affect you more now that you're a manager than they did when you were a player?

Guillen: Of course. I have to control 25 guys. When I was playing, I had to control only myself and do the best I could to win the game.

Playboy: Are you more competitive now?

Guillen: Not really. Managing just sucks. It's a horseshit job. If you win, you get paid $2 million. If you lose, you get fired.

Playboy: Does that add to the stress when you're losing?

Guillen: When you're losing, you try to stay level. It's hard to manage and show up every day with the same face. You don't want to be too happy, and you don't want to be too sad or too upset. That's hard when you're driving to the ballpark during a losing streak and you're thinking, Fuck, what are we going to do? But when you hit the clubhouse, you have to smile and talk to your players. You have to be the same guy every day.

Playboy: Because of the White Sox' playing style, you tend to win games by only one or two runs. Does that make it harder on your nerves?

Guillen: It makes you a better manager because you have to be careful. To win the game you have to score only one more run than somebody else, and that's what we did. I can live with that.

Playboy: Your team had the best record in the American League and won the World Series, but none of your players are household names the way Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez are. Why is that?

Guillen: I don't talk too much about A-Rod. Jeter is a special player because he's a good player and he wins.

Playboy: He's got a ring.

Guillen: Yeah, he's got a few. Rodriguez is a good player, but he hasn't won shit yet. I have a lot of respect for him. He's one of the best players in the game. He's a Latino. But Jeter is something special. He's the luckiest player ever to play this game. He wins, and he's rich. He's got everything.

Playboy: Did you make a conscious decision to avoid bigname players when building this team?

Guillen: I don't like big-name players. Everybody has to be selfish in the game. If you're not selfish, you're not going to be successful. You have to think about yourself before you think about anybody. But sometimes you have to sacrifice yourself for the team. It's easier to control that without those three or four big-name players.

Playboy: You've said before, "We don't need superstars. We need guys who worry about the name on the chest more than the name on the back of the uniform." Is that a growing problem?

Guillen: It's the agents' fault. Now all anyone talks about is how much money they are going to make. I don't blame them, because that's how I make my living. But the agent says, "If you don't hit 40 home runs, you're not going to make any money, so don't let them make you bunt to move the runner over" or "You have to be a starter; you can't be a long reliever or a closer." All these things go through the players' mind, and they start thinking it's true.

Playboy: Do agents have more power now than when you were a player?

Guillen: Agents run this game. Managers ask agents what trades they should make. I think a lot of agents make more money than pretty good ballplayers. But an agent is like a manager: If you don't have good players, you've got nothing. People talk about A-Rod's agent like he's a genius. Fuck that. I could do that job--he's the best player in the game right now. But agents changed this game. I don't blame them. This is a business to make money, but the mentality of the players needs to change.

Playboy: Critics call your managing style small ball or Ozzie Ball. The idea is to use sacrifices to move runners rather than wait for a home run to score. Is it hard to persuade players to make those "productive outs" since it won't add to their batting average and bring them higher-paying contracts?

Guillen: No, because if you don't play for the team, you don't play for us again.

Playboy: You've never had to confront a player who didn't want to bunt?

Guillen: Every day. I don't say, "This is the way I want you guys to play." It's the way they should be playing. People called it Ozzie Ball. It's not Ozzie Ball. It's fucking baseball. Bring baseball back to the way it should be. Now these guys just want to hit 40 or 50 home runs. Goddamn it, there's a lot of difference between winning 100 games and 99 games, especially when some-one won't sacrifice to move a teammate over. A lot of those little things are missing in this game.

Playboy: When you took over the team, you said the old White Sox had a bad attitude. What was causing it?

Guillen: When I was on the team, everyone was satisfied and thought we did a tremendous job if we made the playoffs. That's not it. When you start spring training, the one thing on your mind should be to win the World Series. I was there in 1993 when we made the playoffs. We were satisfied to make it that far and figured that's what we were supposed to do. That's not a winning attitude.

Playboy: How were you able to remove that attitude?

Guillen: I brought in players with the right attitude who put the team before themselves. We even brought in people who had bad scouting reports. A.J. Pierzynski was hated by everybody. Carl Everett was hated by everybody. We brought in a lot of people who were considered trouble, but all of a sudden they would play for me.

Playboy: It's been said that you collected a bunch of players no one else wanted. Orlando Hernandez and Jose Contreras were not popular in New York. White Sox fans wanted the team to get rid of Jon Garland and Joe Crede. The press said Juan Guillen and his big mouth are in good company

Uribe wasn't good enough at shortstop. Jermaine Dye was labeled injury-prone. The San Francisco Giants hated Pierzynski.

Guillen: And Tadahito Iguchi had never played in the United States. And Paul Konerko has a bad hip. Listen, I believed in that team since spring training. I told them, "If we stick together, we have a chance," and we did it. I will take a chance on people I believe in. Fans wanted Crede out of Chicago, and look what happened: He got the big hit for us in the World Series. Pierzynski got a big hit for us too. Everybody in Chicago wanted somebody different off that team. I let those guys go out there and play the game, and they showed me they could do it.

Playboy: The Giants called Pierzynski a clubhouse cancer, and you called him a "20-something-year-old baby." What is he like in the locker room?

Guillen: I love him. One thing about Pierzynski is he's a winner, and he shows up every day ready to play. I call him a big baby because he jokes around and says stuff a lot of people maybe don't want to hear. Sometimes you have to tell him to shut the fuck up and play the game. I can't judge how he was with another team. Maybe the Giants just don't want to win.

Playboy: Bobby Jenks had a history of problems with the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. He arrived for training camp in 2001 with self-inflicted burns on his arms caused during a drunken party and was demoted for bringing beer on to the bus. You brought him to Chicago, and he had a 2.75 ERA, appeared in every World Series game and saved games one and four. How did you turn him around?

Guillen: I told him, "If you're not strong enough mentally to turn the page on the problems you had in the past, then you're not strong enough to be in the big leagues." He has a family and two kids to worry about. This guy has a great opportunity to be a rich man, but if he continues with the problems he's had in the past, he's going to be another broke kid. If he sticks to the program and listens to what we say to him, he has a chance to be a great pitcher.

Playboy: You showed a lot of faith in him when you played him in every game of the Series.

Guillen: You can't be a manager and be afraid to make mistakes or worry about what people are going to say. A lot of managers are scared of losing their jobs. They want to please the fans. They want to please the owners. They want to please the media. All of a sudden they're not pleasing the one group they should be pleasing--the players. You have to go by your guts and believe in your players. People talk about good managers. Nobody's a good manager. If you don't have the players, you're not going to fucking win. Ask all the great managers. Sparky Anderson is in the Hall of Fame. He managed the Detroit Tigers for 17 fucking years, and he lost almost every fucking year. If you don't have the players, you aren't going to win. You aren't going to run the Kentucky Derby with goddamn donkeys.

Playboy: Some would accuse you of being a good manager because you won the World Series with a bunch of guys other managers didn't perceive as being that good.

Guillen: No. Being a good manager is about communicating with the players and having faith, respect and trust. I have that with my team. They know I'm there for them. But if you don't have the guys, you won't win. Period.

Playboy: But you won the World Series without any big-name players.

Guillen: Even though I didn't have the best talent, I had the best team. I had 25 guys prove to each other that they were pulling the rope the same way.

Playboy: None of your players won Rookie of the Year, the Cy Young or any other awards. Does that bother you at all?

Guillen: Yes. They put Travis Hafner above Konerko in the MVP balloting. That's bullshit. Look at the year he had. This kid should at least be in the top two or three. He was number four or five. Then for the Cy Young Award, Johan Santana was ahead of Buehrle and Jon Garland. What the fuck do we have to do? Aaron Rowand didn't win the Golden Glove. Crede didn't win the Golden Glove. Does it bother me? Yes. It's a bunch of shit. My players deserve better than they got.

Playboy: How were they overlooked?

Guillen: I don't know. How the fuck can I win manager of the year and White Sox general manager Kenny Williams come in second for executive of the year? He lost to Mark Shapiro of the Cleveland Indians. What the fuck did the Indians do? Have a good month? I don't have anything against them, but that's a bunch of shit. And now they're going to pit us against the Indians every year and say it's going to be a good battle. Fuck, I won from the first day all the way to the last.

Playboy: Does it reinforce the team's usversus-them mentality?

Guillen: I tell my players to beat the shit out of people and enjoy when they win. Fuck the awards. There's only one award you need, and that's a fucking ring. I don't care how much money you have, you can't buy this son of a bitch. I don't care if you make $100 million a year. You can buy any piece of jewelry you want, but you can't buy a goddamn championship ring. You have to earn it. That's what they did.

Playboy: We've heard you fine players if they are not on the field for the national anthem.

Guillen: That pisses me off the most. There are two reasons. First, it's the national anthem, and you have to respect this country. We have people fighting for us everywhere. And if you're not from here, you have to respect this country double. You're making money in this country, and you're making a living in this country. The least you can do is stand up and hear the national anthem. That's respect. And second, at 7:05 I want my team ready to play. I don't want guys in the clubhouse hanging around when nine guys have to be on the field. It really pisses me off when it's 7:05 and guys aren't ready to play. You had four hours in the clubhouse to do what you were supposed to do. Why do you suddenly have to go to the bathroom when the national anthem starts to play? Why are you putting your pants on now? You have to be ready. When the national anthem starts, the game starts, and you have to be ready for the game.

Playboy: Is it hard to discipline players over matters like that?

Guillen: It's going to cost them money. And it's not going to cost $2. I fine them $500. You add that up for every day--ouch! That's a pretty big chunk.

Playboy: You once sent pitcher Damaso Marte home after he arrived late.

Guillen: I have only two rules: Be on time for the stretch, and be on time for the national anthem. If you don't obey those two rules, we have problems. I'll pack your shit. If you don't want to play for me, we don't want you. When you're ready to play and help your teammates, come back and do it. We're talking about 25 guys here; we're not talking about one. To me, the only difference between my players is that every two weeks they get different paychecks. Otherwise everyone to me is equal. Look at our roster. Who won big games for us? Geoff Blum. Willie Harris.

Playboy: These were guys who came out of nowhere.

Guillen: Okay, thank you. I gave them all the same respect. Konerko might be my favorite player, but over nine innings I have to root for the guy who is hitting. That's why everybody is equal.

Playboy: This past season you were accused of suggesting Marte was faking an injury. Did you suspect something?

Guillen: I don't like when my players say something one day and something else the next. It goes from "You didn't pitch me" to "You pitch me too much." I tell my players, "If you're hurt, tell me. If you're drunk, tell me. If you need a day off, I will find a way to give it to you. Just be fair with me and be clear with me when we're talking. Don't go around the clubhouse saying some shit and then come to me and say something else." I hate that.

Playboy: Did you think he was having personal problems? Health problems?

Guillen: I don't know what kind of problems. Everyone on my team has mental problems. I'm just trying to get the best out of them. I told Marte, "I'm your friend. If you have any problems, talk to me. I'm not your enemy." I think he understands that now. Before that he didn't trust me or anybody.

Playboy: What's the worst thing you've ever said to an umpire?

Guillen: Oh my God. I've said, "I hope your mother is still alive, because you are a fucking motherfucker."

Playboy: Will that get you thrown out?

Guillen: In a heartbeat. You're gone.

Playboy: Are you concerned about steroid use in baseball?

Guillen: Yes. I talk to the players and say, "If you get caught, don't expect me to back you up. You're on your own." And I hate when people blame it on players when some kid somewhere is doing steroids. It's not the players' fault. It's the goddamn parents' and coaches' fault. Where are you? I have kids in baseball, and I know what my kids are doing.

Playboy: Has steroid use increased since you were a player?

Guillen: I don't know. I never saw it when I was playing or coaching. Did the players look different? Yes. Did I ever see it? No. Of course people were doing it, because they got caught. But I never saw anybody do it. Right now I think the league is doing a tremendous job getting the game as clean as possible.

Playboy: If you pumped an average guy full of steroids, he still couldn't hit a fastball. So does it really matter?

Guillen: True. You have to have natural ability. The entire world could do steroids and they would still hit .000. That shit isn't going to help you. You have to learn to perform and have some natural ability. But meanwhile I want everybody to compete at the same level. I don't want somebody to win because of drugs.

Playboy: It's been said that the White Sox are the perfect team for the poststeroid era because you don't rely on giant guys to hit 50 home runs.

Guillen: True. We don't have any bodybuilders. And I hate former players talking shit about this. When I see Wally Joyner, Ken Caminiti and Jose Canseco talk about it, they make me puke. They're full of shit. You know why? Whatever happens in the clubhouse stays in the clubhouse. I see these former players talking shit about this game, and it's not right. Whatever you do is your own business. You're going to leave the game and then come back and say stuff in the papers or write a book? I don't have respect for those guys.

Playboy: Have you ever thought about writing your own book?

Guillen: No. I don't need to be Canseco, busting people's balls to make money. I'm not going to be another guy talking shit about this game after he leaves. You want to say something, say it while you're in the game, not after you leave. If I wrote a book, it would be a nice book that tells the truth in the right way. I would talk about my life from when I was a kid all the way to the World Series. But not right now. It would take a lot of time.

Playboy: What is the most unfair thing said about you?

Guillen: I hate when reporters who don't know me say stuff about me. That happened a lot last year. On ESPN and everywhere else, I was being called a madman. I don't think it's fair when people say I curse a lot in the clubhouse in front of reporters. That's the way I talk. If you don't want to hear me curse, get away from me. This is my office. I do and say whatever I fucking want. I can call my players whatever I want. I'm not saying this to make you feel uncomfortable. This is the way I am.

Playboy: You had a messy fight with former White Sox player Magglio Ordonez after he was traded to the Tigers. What happened?

Guillen: He played with the wrong guy. He was bad-mouthing my team. He was bad-mouthing my trainer. He was bad-mouthing my general manager. He was bad-mouthing my owner. He was bad-mouthing my organization. But when he said Ozzie Guillen--uh-oh. As soon as he named me, it was on. You don't lie to people. What he said about me was a lie, and I don't take that shit from anybody. I don't care who you are. I never throw the first punch, but my second punch is going to be a big one.

Playboy: We've heard you took down the photos of you and Ordonez in your office.

Guillen: I took down photos of everybody. I don't want to see players in my office. I see enough of them in the clubhouse. But this year I told Jerry Reinsdorf that I didn't want any pictures in the spring-training clubhouse in Tucson of fucking former players. Fuck the former players. I want the guys who are going to help this team win. Get Ordonez and Frank Thomas and all those guys out of the pictures in Tucson and bring in new ones. Get rid of all that bullshit.

Playboy: We've also read that you hate paperwork so much you ordered a smaller desk and had the shelves removed from your office.

Guillen: My desk is smaller than this little table. The bigger the desk, the more bullshit that goes on it. I hate it. I have the biggest garbage can of any manager because everything goes in it. When interns bring the scouting report, I say, "Take it to my coaches." I couldn't care less. I just want to know how the other manager is going to manage against me. That's all I need to know. I don't believe in taking notes. You don't see any of my coaches with pen and paper in their hands. Watch the fucking game and see what this guy does. Who cares that two years ago this guy hit a slider for a home run?

Playboy: Your oldest son works for the team as a translator for the Spanish-speaking players. Do they tell him things they won't tell you?

Guillen: No. It's good that my kids get along with the players. They're good friends, but what happens there stays there. I'm the manager of the team, not Ozzie's daddy or Oney's daddy or Ozney's daddy. If a player says something about me, I don't want to hear it from my kids. I understand my players and tell them that if they have something to say, say it to me--good or bad. I don't want one of my kids telling me.

Playboy: Your mother was the principal at your school. Did that get you any special treatment as a student?

Guillen: No. It was worse. I couldn't sneak out of school. I had to be there on time. I couldn't miss class. I had to do my homework. It was a pain in the butt to have my mom next to me.

Playboy: Hall of Famer Luis Aparicio learned to play shortstop from his uncle Ernesto Aparicio. When you were 11, Ernesto began to teach you. How important was he in your life?

Guillen: You're going to make me cry now. The biggest surprise I had after I won the World Series was when I went to Venezuela and they brought Ernesto to see me. There's a picture of it. I don't cry easily for anything, but when I saw Ernesto I went nuts. I wanted him to come to the World Series, but he couldn't because of his health. Ernesto taught me a lot of things on and off the field. He's the guy who really whipped me into becoming who I am right now--father, husband, friend, baseball player. I always say you build the house from the bottom to the top. He gave me a nice foundation that won't shake.

Playboy: What advice did he give you?

Guillen: He told me not to do anything I was going to regret. When I say stuff in the press, a lot of people say, "He doesn't mean that." Bullshit. I mean what I say. He taught me not to be ashamed of myself.

Playboy: You later played for Luis Aparicio in a Venezuelan winter league and then went on to play for the La Guaira Sharks. You also met your wife at this time. Where did you meet?

Guillen: At the bus station. [laughs] I was waiting in the bus station to go from Caracas to my hometown. I was in line for the bus. She was getting into the line. I snuck her in front of me.

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Playboy: You lied and told her you were a banker. Why?

Guillen: When you said you played baseball, people gave you funny looks. If you said you were a banker or a lawyer or went to college, they were a little more interested.

Playboy: How did she find you out?

Guillen: She saw me on TV. She thought, This is the guy who is going out with me! I think she was crazy to go out with a guy who didn't have any future besides baseball. If I hadn't played baseball, I don't know what I would have done. She took a chance. She had a winning lottery ticket. She kept it and won.

Playboy: You later married and lived with her parents while you got your start in the major leagues. One of the first things people noticed about you when you were a rookie for the White Sox was that you talked to everybody around you--teammates, umps, opposing players. What were you saying?

Guillen: I made the games fun. People take this game so seriously now. It's not fun for them it's work. I look at these kids now and think, Wow, these people don't have fun playing this game. And you don't even know how long you'll be playing. They're going to regret it when they're done. There wasn't one day I didn't have fun.

Playboy: Did anyone tell you to shut up?

Guillen: Everyone. They'd say, "I don't want to talk to you. Shut the fuck up." Some people hate me and some people like me, but I didn't come here to make Mends. I came here to be what I am. Old-school players hated that shit. Now everybody is talking and patting each other on the back. Back then if you were a kid trying to talk to the players, they didn't like that. Doug Dascenzo didn't want to talk. Brian Downing didn't want to talk. All the veteran players told me to shut up and go back to my position.

Playboy: You were upset when, after playing for the White Sox for 13 years, the team dumped you. What happened? Guillen: I told them I wanted to stay here. I wanted to finish my career here. I was the fen favorite. I thought, If you don't sign me and you sign Mike Caruso, you guys are full of shit I didn't think the way they treated me at that particular rime was fair to me and my family. The general manager was Ron Schueler, and I didn't appreciate the way he treated me. I hated everybody--the trainers, the coaches, everyone. I would have taken a pay cut because I wanted to stay. My kids were in school in Chicago. I had a house in Chicago. That's one thing I will always regret: not finishing my playing career with the White Sox.

Playboy: You were 37 when the Devil Rays told you they were letting you go, effectively ending your playing career. What went through you mind?

Guillen: I thought, If I can't play for the Devil Rays, I can't play for anybody in the big leagues, because they're a horse-shit team. If I can't make the team there, it's time to go home.

Playboy: The White Sox playoff series against the Angels featured several controversial calls. In game two the home-plate umpire ruled that a pitch Pierzynski swung at and missed for a strikeout bounced before Angels catcher Josh Paul caught it. During the confusion, Pierzynski made it to first, and later he was knocked in by Crede to win the game. What did you see?

Guillen: If you look at the replay, you can see it's a tough call for any umpire. You see the ball, and it hits the dirt. It hit the dirt. But that happens every day. It was a big deal only because it was in the playoffs for the World Series.

Playboy: Pierzynski was at the center of another controversial call in game five, when Kelvim Escobar tagged him with an empty glove while holding the ball in his other hand.

Guillen: People don't like Pierzynski. Escobar wanted to hit him so hard that he forgot the ball was in the wrong hand. If you look at the replay, you see he went after Pierzynski to hit him hard. If it were another player, it would have been different. He would have been tagged easy. But they want to beat the shit out of Pierzynski.

Playboy: Does baseball need the instant replay?

Guillen: No. We have good guys we trust, and they do the best they can in the game. It would only delay the game, and people wouldn't trust the umpires. They do it in football only because the game is so quick, you sometimes can't see stuff. But in baseball, I trust the umpires. I don't want to, but I have to.

Playboy: When the White Sox won the World Series, all the players ran out onto the field to celebrate, but you stayed in the dugout. Why?

Guillen: I was just proud to watch them celebrate. I wanted to see everything. I wanted to cry. I wanted to smile. I wanted to jump. Just to see those guys achieve something because they worked together made me prouder than anything. I stood back and saw everything. I'll never forget that day. A lot of people thought, because of the way I am, I would run out onto the field with my shirt off or run naked down Michigan Avenue.

Playboy: Will the Sox having won the World Series end the rivalry with the Chicago Cubs?

Guillen: I hate playing the Cubs. So much shit gets said in the media. It's fun when the game starts, but other than that I don't like it. It's great for the city, but it's a pain in the ass for everybody else.

Playboy: Are the Cubs cursed?

Guillen: No, they're just horseshit. I was with both teams that beat the Cubs in the last two playoffs they went to, the Braves and the Marlins. The Marlins had a better team than the Cubs. Player by player we had a better team. Cubs fens talked about a curse and blamed their loss on the kid in the stands who interfered with the ball. How about when Alex Gonzalez dropped the ball? How about the RBI triple by Mike Mordecai? So many things happened. Don't blame the curse. You don't know shit.

Playboy: You took the World Series trophy to Venezuela, the first time it has been in a country other than the U.S. or Canada. Was it a lot of work to make that happen?

Guillen: Kind of. I knew Reinsdorf wasn't going to say no, but we had to ask the commissioner. That trophy means a lot to my country. We're going through a lot of political problems, social problems and money problems. I feel prouder to be Venezuelan than anybody. Venezuela is a part of me. The only thing I could give back to them was to say, "Here's the trophy for you guys."

Playboy: Was it difficult to arrange?

Guillen: I would have taken it no matter what.

Playboy: You flew in a private plane arranged by controversial Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez. He has been accused of everything from electoral fraud to human-rights violations. Are you involved in politics there?

Guillen: Not really. I like President Chavez. I like Chávez the man. I don't say I like him politically, because I don't agree with a lot of the stuff he does and says. But I have a right to like somebody, and I like the man. When I read about how hard he worked since he was six years old to be president of Venezuela, I felt proud. Believe me, I don't agree with what he does. I don't agree with what he says. But to me, it's all about the person. People hate him. When I said I like Chavez, people said, "Wow. Why did he say that?" Why not? Why can't I like him?

Playboy: You are close friends with free agent Ugueth Urbina, formerly of the Philadelphia Phillies. He was recently charged with attempted murder in Venezuela and is imprisoned in Caracas. The charges claim he and a group of men attacked five workers with machetes and attempted to set them on fire. Are you worried about him?

Guillen: Yes. I'm doing everything I can. I've spent a lot of time in Venezuela, trying to get him out. I talked to him, and I think he's not guilty. He wasn't setting people on fire and hitting them with a machete. I'm not just saying that because he's my friend. I don't lie to anybody, because people will find out the truth. There was a big fight in his house and people were beating the shit out of each other, and he was caught up in that. I've already told the justice system in Venezuela to take care of this quickly because this kid needs to return and play in the U.S.

Playboy: Is it possible for a professional athlete to come back after something like that?

Guillen: He didn't kill anybody. He just had a fight. I've seen people do drugs. I've seen people kill people. I've seen people not pay their taxes. I've seen people beat the shit out of their wives. I've seen people get DUIs. I've seen a lot of people make mistakes, and they get chance after chance after chance. Urbina made one mistake, and it's nobody's business. He should get another opportunity. He did something everybody else has done--he got in a fight.

Playboy: You got a lot of bad press after calling a friend in the stands in New York a child molester and a homosexual. What happened?

Guillen: That was my best friend. He'll say, "What's up, you child molester?" and I'll say, "What's up, you fag?" That's how I've said hi to him since 1985. Where I come from we don't judge by black or white or religion. You're just like everybody else. In this country it's not easy. When you talk about any issue, somebody will have something to fucking say. You have to be so careful. That's why I almost quit. I said, "Fuck this." I had a meeting with our public-relations department and said, "If this shit is going to continue like this, I'm not talking to anybody."

Playboy: The Chicago press wanted you suspended and called you an "immature, out-of-control, sensitivity-bankrupt manager," a "social fool," a "loose-lipped disaster."

Guillen: I called somebody gay in New York with 60 people around me, and only one guy wrote about it. That guy came to me later and said, "You know, you called someone a fag." I said, "No, I didn't. That's my best friend. I just said hi to him." He said, "That's how you say hi to your friends?" I said, "To him? Yeah. If you don't like it, fuck off. Get the fuck out of my office, you piece of shit." So the next day he wrote it. My mind, my heart and my soul are as clean as a whistle. I know I don't mean to disrespect anyone. Say what you want. When I go to sleep at night, I don't have any regrets. I know what I meant.

Playboy: Do you listen to sports radio?

Guillen: Sometimes. Just to laugh. We have the best stations in Chicago. They think they know baseball, but they don't know shit.

Playboy: We've heard you sit in your car after games and listen to sports radio with your son. Does it get to you?

Guillen: No. You know why? You don't win or lose games by listening to the radio. If people on the radio were so smart, they'd be in the goddamn dugout with me. Every time the media second-guesses you, it's after something happens, not before. I told them, "If you want to second-guess me, I'll give you my cell phone number so before I make a move you can call me in the dugout and tell me what I have to do. Let's see how good you are." Believe me, the farther you sit from the plate, the smarter you get.

Skippers With Attitude

Casey Stengel Career: 1,905-1,842 (.508) with the Brooklyn Dodgers, Boston Braves, Yankees and Mets. World Series titles: seven (Yankees, 1949 through 1953, 1956, 1958). The Old Perfesser led the Yankees while giving reporters quotes that were Zen, bull or both. Dumped by the Yanks for being too old ("I'll never make the mistake of being 70 again"), he managed the amazingly bad Mets, a 1962 expansion club that went 40-120. Enshrined at Cooperstown in 1966, he left us one certain truth: "Good pitching will always stop good hitting, and vice versa."

Billy Martin Career: 1,253-1,013 (.553) with the Twins, Tigers, Rangers, Yankees and A's. World Series titles: one (Yankees, 1977). As a manager, he drunkenly punched out one of his own pitchers outside a Detroit bar; later he decked a marshmallow salesman. Of his star Reggie Jackson and Yankees owner George Steinbrenner, Martin said, "One's a born liar; the other's convicted." That got him fired from one of his five separate stints managing the Yankees, all of which ended badly. He died in a one-car crash after getting hammered on Christmas Day in 1989.

Leo Durocher Career: 2,008-1,709 (.540) with the Brooklyn Dodgers, New York Giants, Cubs and Astros. World Series titles: one (New York Giants, 1954). One of the winningest managers in history, he hung out with Frank Sinatra, married movie starlet Laraine Day and was suspended for a year for consorting with gamblers. Nice guy, huh? "Nice guys finish last," said the man known as Leo the Lip. But he stood up for Jackie Robinson while managing the Dodgers. "I don't care if the guy is yellow or black or has stripes like a fucking zebra. I'm the manager, and I say he plays."

Tommy Lasorda Career: 1,599-1,439 (.526) with the Los Angeles Dodgers. World Series titles: two (1981, 1988). His best move was sending Kirk Gibson to pinch-hit in the 1988 Series; his funniest was at the 2001 All-Star Game, where Vlad Guerrero's flying bat turned him into a human bowling pin while he coached third. His 1997 Hall of Fame induction speech lacked the pith of his famed postgame rant from 1976: "What's my opinion of Kingman's performance? What the fuck do you think is my opinion? I think it was fucking horseshit. Jesus Christ, he beat us with three fucking home runs!"

Earl Weaver Career: 1,480-1,060 (.583) with the Orioles. World Series titles: one (1970). The Earl of Baltimore, who leads all managers in career ejections, with 98, would gripe about a perfect game. "When he came in bitching," one Oriole said, "that was his way of saying hi." But the grouch pioneered one way to follow the game: He was the first to use a radar gun. As Weaver once told a radio-show caller, his strategy was to "get those big cocksuckers who can hit the fucking ball out of the fucking ballpark." He made the Hall of fucking Fame in 1996.

Jack McKeon Career: 1,011-940 (.518) with the Royals, A's, Padres, Reds and Marlins. World Series titles: one (Marlins, 2003). The oldest skipper to win a Series, he was 73 in 2003. As a minor-league manager, he told a player who kept running through stop signs at third base, "You keep doing that, I'm gonna shoot you." The kid ignored him, and when he did it again, McKeon, coaching third, pulled a pistol loaded with blanks from his jacket and bam! "Taught him a lesson," said Shooter Jack. "He never ran through a stop sign again." Kevin Cook

I hate when reporters who don't know me say stuff about me. That happened a lot last year. On ESPN and everywhere else, I was being called a madman.