IT’S MILLAR TIME IN BOSTON Former Portland Sea Dog slugger relishing his role as head ‘idiot’ with Red Sox

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FORT MYERS, Fla. – Kevin Millar still laughs in spite of himself when he thinks about it.

A plaque on Hadlock Field’s wall? . … With his name on it? And his number retired by a professional baseball team?

The former Portland Sea Dog slugger who got his pro start in independent league ball with the Northern League’s St. Paul Saints still shakes his head when he thinks about his career.

“I’ve only been back there [Portland] once, but I have seen it and it’s an honor,” Millar said while wiping sweat off his tanned face and pushing his polarized sunglasses up onto the top of shaggy, frosted brown hair now sporting blonde streaks. “When I saw my name with Charles Johnson and [Edgar] Renteria, it still cracks me up that it’s me there. It’s not normal… It’s not normal.”

Then again, Millar isn’t your normal ballplayer. A self-professed “idiot” who takes it as a compliment when you call him a dirtbag, the 33-year-old Beaumont, Texas, native has a natural, self-deprecating way about him and prides himself on his hustle, character, and approach.

“You know what? That’s one thing I wasn’t blessed with was a lot of ability, but I love coming to the field every day. No doubt about it. I’m not Manny [Ramirez] or David [Wells]. I don’t get paid like they do,” Millar said through a Cheshire cat grin framed by 5 o’clock shadow. “But there’s intangibles we all bring and I think the intangibles I bring are way more greater than worrying about if I steal 30 bases or hit 50 home runs.”

He may not hit 50 homers, but he’s certainly no slouch at the plate. The Red Sox first baseman hit 25 homers and batted .276 with 96 RBIs in his first Red Sox season (2003). Last year, he hit .297 with 18 homers and 74 RBIs. More importantly, Millar is a clutch hitter (career .315 average and 20 homers with runners in scoring position) and a Fenway Park force (American League third-best .350 home batting average).

A fan favorite – and more important to him, a teammate’s favorite – Millar revels in his role as Boston’s chief prankster and cut-up. He also relishes the thought that his personality helps make the Red Sox clubhouse and dugout a lot more pleasant place to be.

“I love my teammates and I love making a team one,” he said after finishing batting practice and clowning around with some of those teammates. “My first year here, you heard about the 25 cabs for 25 different players, and if there’s one thing I bring in terms of intangibles, it’s going to be clubhouse presence. I’m not afraid to get on anybody and I try to include everybody.

“What you see is what you get and it’s gotten me in trouble, but that’s part of it. I can give [crap] to some of these players. No doubt about it.”

It was his presence that likely tipped the balance in his favor when Sox general manager Theo Epstein elected to trade gold glove first baseman Doug Mientkiewicz – another key member of the 2004 World Series champions – to the New York Mets in the offseason.

“There was a decision to be made. It wasn’t necessarily me vs. Mientkiewicz, but the organization had to make a choice. I think Theo’s done a great job and understands what I bring to the clubhouse and to the team,” Millar said. “There wasn’t a reason yet to mess with the first base situation, in my opinion, and tons of my teammates were calling me saying they hoped this thing worked out, including [Jason] Varitek and Curt Schilling. Ultimately, I’m glad I was back.”

It’s not an easy thing to get a disparate group of millionaires, rookies, grizzled vets, free spirits, low-key guys, and various ethnic groups together for a day, let along an entire season, but Millar helps to do just that.

“You don’t want cliques with Latins over here and blacks over here, whites over here. That’s not what it’s about,” Millar said, turning serious. “You’re a family and you don’t have to love everybody, but you’ve gotta respect each other and I think that’s what you have with this club.

“You have 25 different salaries and 25 different egos, but when you step into this clubhouse, you check your ego at the door.”

Players – from the recently arrived Wells (a kindred free spirit to Millar) to captain Varitek to rookies like George Lombard, stars like Schilling and Johnny Damon, and situational guys like Kevin Youkilis – credit Millar for the subjugation of those egos.

“You can’t have thin skin in this clubhouse. It’s a loose atmosphere. It’s great and you just can’t wait to come to the clubhouse,” said backup first baseman/outfielder David McCarty, whose stay in Boston has coincided with Millar’s. “A guy like Kevin is great in a situation like Boston where you’ve got so much media there and so much attention.

“A guy like that who’s willing to talk all the time and has the good sound bites and clever quips takes the pressure off the other guys so they don’t have to give quotes constantly and that’s nice.”

Millar might not have even been even a blip on the major league baseball radar if not for a two-year stay in Portland. After the Florida Marlins moved him up from Single A Brevard County, Millar hit .288 with 13 homers and 68 RBIs for the Sea Dogs in 1996.

“In ’97, I had a choice to go Triple A and I’m glad I chose to go back to Double A,” Millar recalled.

It may have been the best decision of his career. Millar was named Marlins Hitter of the Year and the Eastern League Player of the Year after leading the league with a .342 average, 175 hits, 34 home runs, and 131 RBIs.

“That put me on the map that year. I was suspect that whole time up until that year, and being player of the year made it maybe the most important year,” Millar said. “When you’re not a prospect and you’re not drafted, you’ve gotta do something special.”

He was called up to Charlotte the following year and after two games there, made his major league debut with the Marlins.

“I’ve been lucky. I’ve played in some great places in the minor leagues, but Portland was my favorite,” said Millar, who used to live at the Radisson in downtown Portland. “I think that little city there and their fans is the closest atmosphere to the major leagues that you’re going to find.

“The whole atmosphere they bring is phenomenal. I had two great years there and wouldn’t trade them for anything. The whole city was neat and we felt like we were part of it.”

Millar, whose uncle (Wayne Nordhagen) played seven major league seasons (1976-82), has simple hopes for the way he’s remembered.

“Just that he loved the game and played it hard is how I’d like to be thought of, and you want the respect of your teammates. That’s the true test because we really know each other,” he said.

His antics aside, Millar is truly appreciative of his experiences in Portland and other places and doesn’t take his status as a big league ballplayer lightly.

“You’ve gotta appreciate what you’re doing,” Millar said. “I’ve spent six years on the buses in the minors, so you’ve got to be thankful for doing this.”