Sunny Day, Sweepin' the Clouds Away

For an image of this spring, look on the most remote practice field at Space Coast Stadium where Acta, 38, leans on the batting cage and exchanges quips with his players on the latest trends in music -- that is, until he sees Nook Logan hit a lazy fly.

"Super Nook, that's not your game right there," the manager says loudly and decisively, but without a trace of hostility. To be the center fielder and leadoff man the Nats so desperately need, Logan must play the speedster's groundball game. When Logan, who has a .270 career average in 545 major league at-bats, hits a hard ground ball in the shortstop hole, Acta says, even louder: "That's it. Now run like you stole something."

In this brief exchange, you can feel the difference, and it may prove to be a surprisingly large one, between Acta and Robinson, the tart, intimidating Hall of Famer who had fine relationships with perhaps half his players -- usually young potential stars, veterans or extroverts -- yet sometimes seemed to live in a parallel universe from a dozen others. A no-longer young player like Logan who, at 27, still doesn't seem to understand what kind of player he has to be, would have driven Frank nuts.

In contrast, the new manager has given Logan a confidence-building nickname -- Super Nook -- as well as a public compliment when he does as he's been told. But, in a barely veiled way, Acta also has let a half-dozen players around that batting cage know that Logan is on notice -- do it my way or you'll be back in the minors or buried on the end of my bench.

All the good things that have been said about Robinson, in this column and by countless others, are all true. But three negatives also are true. When seasons didn't go his way, Robinson's energy and spark fell as low as any manager's. When players displeased him, which was often, he was as publicly negative and often disparaging as any manager since the caustic Dick Williams. As for strategy, he was still in the '60s. In 21st-century baseball, he was a hunch-playing day trader going up against a hedge-fund quantitative analyst with seven computers.

So, by last season, the Nats began every game ahead in dignity and reputation, but behind in strategy and motivation. The Nats echo this, but not by name. "He did a lot for me. I'm a Frank guy," one Nat said. "But we had an energy problem."

Not anymore. Robinson brought Acta to the majors as his coach in Montreal. They're close. But they're antipodes. Acta can give a speech, but prefers to communicate constantly, including working as the team's infield coach this season. "I'm not going to spill my guts," said Acta, anticipating his full-squad chitchat on Tuesday. "This is not a football team."

But, compared with last year's fundamentally atrocious team, they may sometimes seem like they're charging out of an end-zone tunnel. "We're not as bad as we look on paper," catcher Robert Fick said. "And the attitude is definitely right now."

It better be. The sun won't get any brighter or the breeze blow away any more doubts than on the first full day of camp.

"I'm a very nice guy right now," said Acta, the man whose large, hard hands most directly grasp the future of the Nationals. "In 15 days, I may not be so popular."