By Bill Koch
The Cincinnati Enquirer

Reds first baseman Sean Casey chats it up with New York Yankees captain Derek Jeter at Great American Ballpark Tuesday. (Jeff Swinger photo) | ZOOM |

As a rookie in 1998, Sean Casey was even more wide-eyed than he is now as a five-year veteran who still acts as if being in the major leagues makes him the luckiest guy in the world.

Naturally, during that first year he was eager for the chance to talk to St. Louis Cardinals first baseman Mark McGwire as McGwire pursued Roger Maris' single-season home run record.

"We intentionally walked him twice," Casey said, "and they wanted me to play behind him. I was thinking, 'I wish I could get over there and talk to him.'

"So the third time we walked him again and I went over and held him on just so I could get a conversation going."

Before long, Casey could hear manager Jack McKeon, coach Denis Menke and some of his teammates yelling at him to play off the bag.

"Finally, McGwire says, 'Hey, Case, I think they want you to play behind me,' " Casey said. "I was like, OK. At least I got my two cents in there."

Getting his two cents in is rarely a problem for the Reds' loquacious first baseman. His teammate, Ken Griffey Jr., calls him the "world's nicest person."

For Casey, being friendly translates into being talkative. That's his personality when he's out of uniform, and he sees no reason to change when he's in uniform and on the field.

"Casey definitely leads the league in talking to people at first base," said outfielder Adam Dunn, a part-time first baseman in his own right. "He'll talk to anybody."

When a runner arrives at first and Casey strolls over to hold him on, he casually strikes up a conversation with his visitor. He can't understand why anyone wouldn't.

"The guy's over there for five minutes sometimes," Casey said. "I'm not one to just be mute. It's more being friendly than anything. If a guy's over there standing an inch from me, I might as well say something to him."

Casey asks about the player's family. He may talk about how well the player is hitting or he might crack a joke. And if there's no runner to talk to, he can always chat with the first-base umpire and the first-base coach.

"You start to strike up a relationship with these guys," Casey said. "(Umpire) John Hirschbeck, I've gotten to know his son, Michael, really well. He was a batboy for us in spring training."

The Reds first baseman says you have to know when to gab and when not to, who enjoys the repartee and who would rather be left alone.

Rickey Henderson, for instance, was never one for discussing the issues of the day - or anything else - when he was at first. He was too busy plotting how he was going to steal second. So Casey left him alone.

"Guys who are getting ready to steal, I'll just say, 'Hey, how's it going?' because I know they're getting locked in to steal," Casey said.

But if someone is eager to talk, Casey is there for him. He'll laugh with them, encourage them. Sometimes he'll ask them questions out of curiosity.

"There are definitely some guys who give you better conversations," Casey said. "(Astros outfielder) Lance Berkman and I have kind of become buddies, just getting to know him at first base. We talk about our families. He's fun to talk with. He's always joking around and laughing.

"One time he was literally in the middle of a sentence talking to me and he took off. I was like, 'Tell your wife I said hi.' "

For some players, though, talking can be an unwanted distraction. Reds bench coach Ray Knight is a bit gabby himself, but when he was playing he said he rarely talked while he was on the field. He learned in the Mexican League in 1975 that too much conversation can be dangerous.

"Jimy Williams (now the Houston Astros' manager) was coaching third and there were only three Americans on each ball club," Knight said. "Jimy and I were having a conversation the whole game. In the fifth inning, we're talking and there was a ball hit to my left. I took about three steps and didn't quite get to it.

"I said to Jimy, 'I should have had that ball.' He said, 'I want to tell you something. I watch you. You're really intense. You're going to be a major-league ballplayer. But when you're on the field, I wouldn't talk to anybody. I've enjoyed our conversations, but you missed that ball because you were talking to me. Your mind wasn't there.' From that day on, I didn't say anything to anybody."

Not to worry, says Casey.

"I'm never talking when I'm getting ready for a pitch," he said. "When I'm ready to go, I'm ready to go and play the game. I only talk during down time."

But he does concede there are times when he's a runner at first and gets a little too engaged in conversation with the first baseman, much to the chagrin of third-base coach Tim Foli.

"He gets mad at me for not getting the signs right way, but usually I'm not getting the steal sign," said the slow-footed Casey.

The Reds first baseman does most of his talking early in the game and is careful not to give the appearance that he's trying to distract someone. That's not his purpose.

"I would never do that," he said. "I almost try to avoid talking to someone if they think I'm talking to them for that reason.

"Usually, people are pretty friendly. If a guy's a rookie, I'll bring something up like, 'Hey, I see you're swinging well,' or something like that. You try to make them feel comfortable."

And then there are the players who are slumping. You have to be careful what you to say to them when they finally reach first base.

"It depends who's down there," Casey said. "Some guys will joke around when they're struggling and say, 'I haven't been down here for awhile.' You get in different conversations with people depending on what's going on in their life or what's going on in your life. And you'll get a different conversation with somebody in May than you will in August with the same guy."

The most famous story about Casey's first-base conversations occurred with the Pirates' Al Martin on first base.

According to the story, Martin, whom Casey followed as a kid growing up in Pittsburgh, told Casey he was going to steal second base.

"If anybody can do it, Mr. Martin," Casey said, "you can."

Casey laughs at the story now and says it's not entirely true, even though it sounds completely in character.

"I don't know if I said 'Mr. Martin,' " Casey said. "But I was in awe in 1998. I was in the big leagues."

Chat stars

Sean Casey's favorite first-base conversationalists:

• Lance Berkman, Houston Astros outfielder

• Mark Grace, Arizona Diamondbacks first baseman

• J.T. Snow, San Francisco Giants first baseman

• Jerry Crawford, umpire

• Dave Collins, Colorado Rockies first-base coach

• Tommy Sandt, former Pittsburgh Pirates first-base coach

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E-mail bkoch@enquirer.com