Expectations Don’T Bother Young Alou

His Spokane Indians uniform bears the number 18. It’s his brother’s number, as well.

This is not to be taken as proof that Felipe Alou Jr. is soliciting comparisons - but perhaps it is a sign that he is not so desperate to avoid them that he would demand a number in, say, the 50s.

He is who is he is. An Alou.

In baseball, that’s uniform enough.

Tonight, he starts in right field when the Indians open the 1999 Northwest League season in Boise, filling another footprint left by his father, his uncles and his brother, Moises, on their way to varying degrees of renown in the major leagues. He does not seem to look at it quite that way - which is fine, because he has countless other people to do it for him.

There cannot be baseball fans more casual than the bulk of those who attend Indians games each summer, but even most of those will connect with the name.

And then the critiquing is sure to commence.

“What my dad did, or my brother did, well, they’ve already done it,” he said Thursday as the Indians concluded minicamp. “I can’t do it over for them. This is my chance to play. The only expectations I really care about are mine.”

This is what he says, and he says it persuasively. He has a direct, earnest tone set off by a million-dollar smile baseball’s marketeers will be climbing all over one another to exploit. Providing he ever gives them a reason, of course.

But his manager understands that conscious wants can be shaken by a subconscious pull.

“I don’t know that he ever really does `deal’ with it,” said Kevin Long, Spokane’s first-year manager, of the larger-than-life family history.

“There’s pressure there, more than there is on another player. At least, I would think so.”

Who wouldn’t?

His father, Felipe Sr., probably is one of the three or four most esteemed managers in baseball - not for the pennants he’s won but for his dignity and decency and how he annually keeps the Montreal Expos afloat in the $12 rowboat management gives him to negotiate baseball’s high-salaried seas. Long before that, he was the second player from the Dominican Republic to reach the big leagues, a stay he stretched to 17 seasons.

Uncles Matty and Jesus, of course, played more than 10 years apiece themselves - and for one historic day, in the same San Francisco Giants outfield as Felipe.

And Moises, of course, remains a marquee talent - an All-Star outfielder, the shoulda-been MVP of the 1997 World Series (explain to me again how a pitcher with a 5.27 Series ERA deserved it instead?).

If you’re scoring at home, that’s 6,060 major league base hits for the family from Santo Domingo.

OK, the name alone isn’t fail-safe. Another brother, Jose, saw his career in the Expos chain peter-out in Single-A in 1991.

Felipe Jr. didn’t need to be told, but he was recently reminded anyway.

A 42nd-round draft pick of the Kansas City Royals in 1998, Alou hit .259 for their affiliate in the rookie Gulf Coast League last summer. That earned him a bump to Class A Charleston this spring.

And a .195 batting average bumped him back down to Spokane.

“I struggled,” he admitted. “It’s just one of those slumps you go through. You’ve got to deal with it. Getting sent here didn’t bother me. Wherever I get the chance to play, fine. Hopefully, the change will help me.”

Long hopes so, too. He’s also frank and realistic.

“His makeup and character are his best attributes, and those are things you can’t teach,” Long said. “His arm, his defense and his speed are assets. But he’s got a lot to learn as far as swinging the bat.”

But then, so did Moises. In his first professional season, big brother hit all of .236 in Watertown, N.Y. He returned the next year to hit .214. And this as the second pick of the 1986 draft.

He took six full years before he stuck with the Expos in 1992 - the very year Felipe Sr. took over as manager after 12 years of dues-paying in Montreal’s minor-league system.

So the family name has hardly been built on overnight success.

“You’re always going to look up to them,” said Felipe Jr. “They’re family and they’re successful, and you’re never going to ignore that.

“I guess people would call what they’ve done pressure for me, but I’ve never thought that I had to go out and be better than my family. I just want to become a better player every day. That’s my expectation.”

He does not discount their influence, particularly that of his father. Felipe Sr. was already a minor-league manager when his namesake was born, and the son spent his summers shadowing dad around the ballpark in West Palm Beach before the call came from Montreal.

“He’s been to more big-league stadiums than I have, that’s for certain,” said Long.

Though Alou insisted his father did not push him into baseball, he did help steer him to Canada College in California where Moises had played a dozen years before. It was after his freshman season there that Felipe Jr. was drafted in the 12th round by Anaheim.

“But my dad thought I was too young and that going back to college one more year would help me a lot,” he said. “I was 18. I needed to work on some things, lift weights, get more at bats. And it was a good idea.”

He is still small - just 5-foot-11, 165 pounds, more Matty-sized than Moises, who goes 6-3, 195. There again, comparisons are futile.

“He might say differently, but he puts a lot of pressure on himself,” said Long. “I’ve seen it in games I’ve seen him play. He’s very hard on himself and he’s a perfectionist. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. He’s giving this game everything he’s got, and if he doesn’t make it, so be it. But he’ll make the best of his chance.”

And that’s always been a part of the Alou uniform.