The first time Wayne Huizenga calls new manager Rene Lachemann during a Marlins game will be the last, no matter how many times he offers to sing the Southern Cal fight song as penance.

Huizenga may own the Marlins, but once the first pitch is thrown, the occupants of the dugout belong to Lachemann. A former Southern California beach boy, Lachemann undoubtedly will grow to love the sunrises on Biscayne Bay, but the moment he senses any interference from above, he won’t permit the sun to set before he’s gone.

He’s not even here yet — the Marlins will introduce him this afternoon at Joe Robbie Stadium — but Rene Lachemann already has advised the team what it will take to make him leave.

“I told the Marlins I wouldn’t manage in anybody’s organization if someone calls me up during the game, I don’t care if it’s the owner or the general manager,” Lachemann said. “That phone rings at 7:15 for a 7:30 game, and you lose the respect of all your players.”

Charlie Finley knows. The ex-Oakland Athletics’ owner offered Lachemann the chance to manage the A’s in 1979, when Lachemann was still a minor league manager on the make. For hours on a wintry Chicago afternoon, Finley negotiated with Lachemann. He told him how he was about to sell the team to a rich Denver oilman, Marvin Davis, who had enough money to buy not only the A’s but every team in baseball.

If Davis buys the club, Finley promised, we’ll write it into your contract that your salary will be bumped from $40,000 to $100,000. A deal was almost struck until Finley added a by-the-way: There were times when Charlie O. would tell the manager who to play.

Lachemann balked. The lineup card was his, he said.

“Young man,” Finley said brusquely, “opportunity comes around only once. If you don’t take the job, you need a psychiatrist.”

Lachemann went home to consider the offer, then called Finley back.

“I need the telephone number of a good psychiatrist,” Lachemann told Finley.

It would be two more years before Lachemann would arrive in the big leagues with the Seattle Mariners as a 36-year-old manager, at the time the youngest in the majors. Tony LaRussa, for one, was hardly surprised. He’d first met Lachemann in Bradenton in 1964, when LaRussa was a 20-year-old second baseman and Lachemann a 19-year-old catcher on the same instructional league team.

Lachemann’s brother, Marcel, the serious one, was on that team. So was Dave Duncan. Two future managers, two future pitching coaches, all sharing the same cheap motel and the identical dream of big-league stardom.

“All of us sensed,” LaRussa said, “that Rene had a deeper love for the game than everybody else. He would be the first player to arrive at the ballpark, at the same time as the coaches, and he’d be the last to leave.”

In Seattle, Lachemann was replacing Maury Wills, the former shortstop who used to give Lachemann baseball shoes when Lachemann was a Dodgers batboy. In time, another Dodgers batboy and Lachemann’s surfing buddy back in L.A., Jim Lefebvre, would manage the Mariners, too.

But when Lachemann took over, the Mariners were just four years removed from their birth as an expansion team. His first full season, 1982, Lachemann had them in a pennant race as late as early August, despite playing for an owner, George Argyros, who knew so little about baseball, he had an assistant send Lachemann a memo outlining a way to change the rules so batters could steal first base. Lachemann still has that memo.

“Snider, Hodges, Tommy Davis and the others, they used to pass the hat on the road for me for meal money because I didn’t get any,” Lachemann said.

Argyros had made a fortune in Southern California real estate, but was too cheap to field a decent ballclub. He got rid of Lachemann’s best hitter and best pitcher, which left the Mariners’ manager with little more than a bunch of journeymen and Mr. Jell-O (Him, we’ll deal with later).

Lachemann swallowed hard, but carried on. Until the night the phone in the dugout rang in the second inning. Frank Funk, the pitching coach, answered. It was Argyros, demanding that pitcher Gaylord Perry, now a Hall of Famer, be removed from the game.

Funk handed the phone to Lachemann.

“Why is Perry still pitching?” Argyros said.

“He’s pitching until I decide he’s not pitching anymore,” Lachemann barked back, “and if you don’t like it, you come down here and take him out yourself.”

Lachemann’s job probably was over the moment he uttered those words. Any uncertainty about his future was removed when the enraged manager flung the phone so hard, it came out of the dugout wall and landed on the field, in full view of the owner’s box. A local call suddenly had gone long distance, and Lachemann would have to pay the difference.

Argyros, through GM Dan O’Brien, fired Lachemann about a month later, the same day the Mariners released Gaylord Perry.

Which only gave Lachemann the chance to prove Charlie Finley wrong once more. There was ol’ opportunity, this time beckoning from Milwaukee, where the Brewers had just won the American League pennant. Lachemann was so sure he wanted this job, he turned down a chance to manage the New York Mets. “I was told they were a bunch of old guys on the way down,” Lachemann said. “Then they called up Gooden, and all the rest.”

Turns out, the over-the-hill gang had encamped in County Stadium. Paul Molitor wrecked his elbow and missed the season. Pitcher Pete Vuckovich got hurt, too, and the division rival Detroit Tigers opened 35-5. The Brewers were sliding faster than their mascot into a bottomless keg of beer suddenly gone flat.

“Two or three star-quality players quit on him from Day One,” said Don Sutton, the Braves’ broadcaster who pitched for Lachemann in Milwaukee. “They went behind his back to management and buried him.”

Not even Mr. Jell-O (Him, we’ll get to later — we promise) could help Lach in Milwaukee. The Brewers, winners of 95 games in 1982, lost 94 in ’84.

Maybe Durocher was right. Nice guys do finish last.

But Finley is still wrong. Lachemann hasn’t run out of chances. It has taken eight more years, all spent in a third-base coaching box, but nobody has to pass the hat for Rene Lachemann. Not when the Marlins have designed a cap, especially for him.

The two faces of Rene Lachemann: There is the man who has spent the last six seasons as part of LaRussa’s MENSA society in Oakland, passing as many as six hours a day breaking down video for the meticulous charts he keeps on every hitter in every game he’s either coached or managed.

That is the Lachemann who takes his catchers out under the hot Arizona sun, flips over the pitching machine a few feet in front of the mound, then stations himself on the third-base line, close to his catchers. In his hands is an old football tackling dummy.

When the pitching machine lets loose its iron arm and delivers the baseball on a hop to the plate, Lachemann hurls the tackling dummy into the waiting catcher.

What’s the point? To teach catchers to concentrate on receiving the ball before they worry about a collision at the plate.

Jim Lefebvre, Lachemann’s boyhood buddy, vows there isn’t anyone in baseball more prepared than Lachemann. But not even Lachemann could have anticipated the night 10 summers ago when three of his Seattle players broke into his hotel suite in Chicago, and the legend of Mr. Jell-O was born.

To protect the innocent, we will not identify the perpetrator, beyond saying his name was Joe Simpson, now a Braves radio announcer, and he had two accomplices, Richie Zisk and Larry Andersen.

The first thing the naughty Mariners did was to move all of the furniture in Lachemann’s suite into a bathroom, whose door could not be opened. The mattresses, they stuck in a closet. In the other bathroom toilet, they placed ice and some cherry Jell-O. They then scrawled some messages in soap on the TV and mirrors and left, but not before neatly unpacking Lachemann’s suitcases.

When the Mariners arrived at the park the next day, the lineup was not written on the clubhouse blackboard, as was customary. Instead, there was a message. “A $500 reward for Mr. Jell-O.”

Wherever the Mariners went the rest of the season, Mr. Jell-O would leave a trail. Stadium scoreboards would flash a greeting to him. There would be phone messages left at the hotel from Mr. J.

Finally, at a team party, Lachemann was given the chance to guess who’d pulled the stunt on him. Simpson and Andersen, he guessed. He missed Zisk.

This is the Lachemann with a needle longer than the team’s orthopedic surgeon, the Lachemann who livened up the A’s long bus ride to Tucson each spring by making rookies sing their school fight song, and if they didn’t have one, the USC fight song, the Lachemann whose shoes were doused in lighter fluid and set afire in the Baltimore clubhouse during the eighth inning of a close game.

That Lachemann makes allowances for laughter in baseball. That Lachemann also has been accused of being too close to his players, a flaw in both Seattle and Milwaukee.

Lachemann, though conceding he may have to pull back a little, has lived in a world without walls for so long, he will find it tough to start building some now.

Lachemann is not about to waste his chance with this opportunity.

“A lot of people say that I was too close, but Rene Lachemann has got to be Rene Lachemann,” he said. “I know there’s a fine line, and I don’t want to cross over it.”

If he does, he might be taking some calls in the dugout. And we all know how he feels about those.

RENE LACHEMANN

BIRTHDATE: May 4, 1945.

HOMETOWN: Los Angeles, Calif.

RESIDENCE: Scottsdale, Ariz., in the offseason. Oakland Airport Hilton during the season, although that should change.

WIFE: Lauri. They met in junior high. A beach lover, Lauri is eager to explore South Florida’s distinct architecture.

CHILDREN: Jim, an attorney who works for sports agent Tom Reich; Britt, a senior at Arizona State, works in marketing for United Parcel.

BLOODLINES: Father, William, 92, was a world-class chef at the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles. Homemaker mother, Denise, lived to be 82. “As kids we all worked in the hotel — squeezing orange juice, making up salads,” said Marcel Lachemann, 51, one of Rene’s two brothers, the oldest being, Bill, 58. A sister, Denise, is 60.

FAVORITE STYLE OF COOKING: Barbecue. Cooking, evidently, is not hereditary.

ETHNIC BACKGROUND: Lachemann is a German name, according to Rene. His father was German-Swiss, his mother French-Swiss. He also speaks Spanish, having managed for six years in Venezuela, Mexico and Puerto Rico. “His Spanish is almost as bad as his English,” said Cubs coach Chuck Cottier.

NEIGHBORHOOD PALS: The Lefebvre brothers, twins Jim and Tip and younger brother Gill. As kids, used to shag balls for American Legion team Post 714 coached by Lefebvre’s father, Ben. Team starred Sparky Anderson at second base, Billy Consolo at short and Billy Lachemann at catcher and won a national championship. Jim and Rene worked as counselors at camp on Catalina Island owned by Lefebrve family.

SURFIN’ USA: Lachemann hung out at a surfing spot on Manhattan Beach known as El Porto. “We’d go to the beach after working out and play football and surf,” Jim Lefebvre said. “He was a better surfer than swimmer. Once he was off the board, it was more like surf and sink.”

FIRST SPORTS-RELATED JOB: Hawked newspapers outside Coliseum, then at halftime sneaked into USC and Rams football games.

— FIRST JOB IN BASEBALL: Batboy for the Los Angeles Dodgers, recruited by Dodgers scout Lefty Phillips while still an All-City player in high school. Later lined up Lefebvre as a Dodgers batboy, too. “I was on the cover of Confidential magazine,” Lachemann said. “It showed Doris Day looking over my shoulder into the Dodger dugout.” Worked the umpires’ room and was in charge of the baseballs when Dodgers lost ’62 playoff game to the San Francisco Giants. “Everybody was just sitting in front of their lockers, stunned. No champagne, just beer and Scotch.”

EDUCATION: Dorsey High School in L.A. One semester at USC, where his brother played four years for coach Rod Dedeaux.

PRO PLAYING CAREER: A catcher, signed for $35,000 by Kansas City A’s scout Art Lilly in 1964 after playing a summer of semipro baseball in Edmonton. As bonus baby, was placed on A’s major league roster at the age of 19 in 1965. Next season, sent to Double-A, wound up playing a total of 118 games in parts of three years in the big leagues before retiring. Lifetime average: .210. All three brothers signed with big-league teams, Bill with the Dodgers, Rene and Marcel with the Kansas City A’s. Rene and Marcel made it to the big leagues, briefly.

START OF MANAGING CAREER: Seed may have originally been planted on A’s instructional league team in 1964. That team included Rene and Marcel Lachemann, Tony LaRussa, Dave Duncan, Joe Rudi, Catfish Hunter and Ted Kubiak, all of whom have coached or managed. In 1973, at the age of 28, was hired as manager of the A’s Class A farm team in Burlington, Iowa. Syd Thrift, now a Cubs executive, promoted him first to Double-A, then Triple-A. Turned down chance to manage A’s for Charlie Finley in 1979, when Finley wouldn’t give Lachemann exclusive right to make out his own lineup card. Became big-league manager in Seattle in 1981 when he replaced Maury Wills, the former Dodgers shortstop who used to give Lachemann baseball shoes when he was a batboy. Fired by Seattle in 1983, shortly after throwing dugout phone on the field, a reaction to mid-game call by Mariners owner George Argyros. Hired by Milwaukee in 1984, fired at end of season after Brewers finished in last place.

MAJOR LEAGUE COACHING EXPERIENCE: Two years as Red Sox third-base coach (1985 and 1986), six years as A’s third-base coach (1987-92). Boston newspapers enjoyed lampooning Lachemann for his aggressive style. “If Lachemann were an air traffic controller,” Boston Globe columnist Mike Barnicle wrote, “Boston harbor would be littered with fuselage.” In Oakland, made headlines when he sent plodding Mark McGwire on suicide mission to home plate. “There’s a fine line between being aggressive and being stupid,” Lachemann said afterward. “I crossed that line.”

FIRST SOUTH FLORIDA CELEBRITY HE’S MOST LIKELY TO MEET: Don Shula. Lachemann, a fan of all sports, was on the sidelines of the Saints-Cardinals game last week in Phoenix. “When is Lach’s press conference?” Tony LaRussa said. “Are the Dolphins home Sunday? He’ll probably be there, though he may not want to interrupt a 6-0 team. But when Don Shula recognizes the kind of man the Marlins have here, he’ll open his arms wide.”

– GORDON EDES

MINOR RULES

Rene Lachemann has three golden rules:

1. Play the game hard.

2. Play the game right.

3. Let the numbers fall where they may.

CAREER STATS

MAJOR LEAGUE PLAYING RECORD

G AB R H HR RBI Avg.

1965 A’s 92 216 20 49 9 29 .227

1966 A’s 7 5 0 1 0 0 .200

1967 A’s 19 60 3 9 0 04 .150

118 281 23 59 9 33 .210

MAJOR LEAGUE MANAGING RECORD

Year Team League W-L Pos.

1981 Seattle AL 38-47 6th

1982 Seattle AL 76-86 4th

1983 Seattle AL 26-47 7th

1984 Milwaukee AL 67-94 7th

Minor league manager: Burlington (A) in 1973-74; Modesto (Double-A) in 1975; Chattanooga (Double-A) in 1976, San Jose (Triple-A) in 1977-78; and Spokane (Triple-A) in 1979-81.

Manager Team Hired Fired Record Pct. Replacement

Bill Rigney Angels 1961 1969-a 625-707 .469 Lefty Phillips

Mickey Vernon Senators 1961 1963-b 135-227 .373 Gil Hodges

Roy Hartsfield Blue Jays 1977 1979 166-318 .343 Bobby Mattick

Joe Schultz Pilots 1969 1969 64-98 .395 Dave Bristol

Harry Craft Colt 45s 1962 1964-c 191-280 .406 Lum Harris

Casey Stengel Mets 1962 1965-d 175-404 .302 Wes Westrum

Gene Mauch Expos 1969 1975 499-627 .443 Karl Kuehl

Preston Gomez Padres 1969 1972-e 180-316 .363 Don Zimmer

— a-fired 39 games into season; b-fired 40 games into season; c-fired 149 games into season; d-fired 96 games into season; e-fired 11 games into season.

DO NICE GUYS ALWAYS FINISH LAST?

What they’re saying about Marlins manager Rene Lachemann:

— Athletics manager Tony LaRussa: “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that in five of the last seven years, the team he has been with has been in the postseason. He’s contributed to that, definitely. He’ll be greatly missed on and off the field. Everybody on the club was his friend. He was a catcher, so you know he has a feel for the game. He’s got a keen sense of the game of baseball and how it’s supposed to be played. The beauty of Lach is that you can say, ‘Let’s have some fun,’ but when it’s time for decisions to be made, he’ll be absolutely serious and give you an opinion worth its weight in gold.”

— A’s special assistant Bill Rigney, manager of the original expansion Angels: “He hasn’t had a lot of success as a manager, but he’s had great success under Tony. Of all the men that are out there, I think they picked the right man. He’s a delightful guy to be around, an easy guy to get to know for the players, he has a lot of enthusiasm. He’s a baseball man, he’s been in the business all his life, he’s been to the playoffs and World Series, he brings a lot with him.”

— Cubs manager Jim Lefebvre, a lifelong friend: “You’ve got have a chance, and in my mind Rene never had a chance. The Seattle club was always underfinanced. When you’ve been around, you learn a lot — you’d better, if you want to survive. And there’s no better learning experience than working for LaRussa. Because he’s so friendly and easy-going, a lot of people misread Rene. No one will be more prepared than Rene. No one will be more focused.”

— Former Mariners player Joe Simpson: “If he’s a stopgap hire, the Marlins are making a terrible mistake. If the Marlins take the approach that he’ll be good to get us started, then we’ll get another guy to take us to the next level, that would be wrong. Who is that guy, John McGraw? If the Marlins give Lach a shot — not just a year or two — he’ll be very successful, and so will the Marlins. Lach is one of my favorite poeple in the game. He’s honest, and as a player you always knew where you stood wih Lach.”

— Former Mariners player Jim Beattie, now Seattle director of player development: “I liked Lach as a manager. He’s very patient, which you have to have with an expansion club. Lach treats ballplayers the way they want to be treated. He also defines roles very much like LaRussa, especially with his pitchers. Some players took advantage of him … but I think he’s learned from that. He just got his feet with us. In my mind, he’ll be a better manager now than he was then.”

— Syd Thrift, Cubs assistant general manager: “I saw him in managerial jobs grow and develop from the minor leagues on, and now under Tony, he’s got his graduate degree. He has great character and a real complete understanding of fundamental baseball, how to teach and train young players. He has patience — he’s raised a family — and a tremendous ability to communicate in a relaxed manner that makes people more responsive. A tremendous choice; I can’t say enough about him.”

— A’s catcher Jamie Quirk: “He’s a down-home guy who’s not going to throw on a three-piece suit. You’ll see him in shorts. That’s the A’s image — laid- back — and things like dress codes are not important. The A’s philosophy is the more rules you have, the more will be broken. Lach lets men be men, and even with a lot of younger players on an expansion team, I can see Lach doing the same thing in Florida.”

— GORDON EDES