LOS ANGELES — I’m sitting by the koi pond at a Holmby Hills mansion, as close as I’ll ever come to the Playboy Mansion, basking in the sun, trying to discuss the most famous baseball contract addendum in history, but the man who negotiated it keeps changing the subject to the quality of the Red Sox minor league instructors in the late 1960s.

“Ted Williams, Frank Malzone, Mace Brown, Broadway Charlie Wagner, Eddie Kasko, Billy Gardner, Jackie Moore, Sam Mele,” former Red Sox farmhand and agent Dennis Gilbert said. “They were all big-league ballplayers, instructing minor leaguers. Sam Mele was managing the Twins against the Dodgers in the 1965 World Series and a couple of years later he and Ted Williams are my hitting and outfield instructors in spring training with the Red Sox. Neil Mahoney, the head of the minor leagues, hired them all, put that whole crew together.”

Kasko’s death last week at the age of 88 sent Gilbert on this stroll through memory lane during my visit to his home. Kasko, who managed the Red Sox (1970-73) and spent many of his 29 years in the organization as a highly regarded scout, played baseball at a time when players didn’t make enough to set themselves up for life.

And then there is Bobby Bonilla. Normally, Bonilla has the stage to himself on July 1, what has become known on baseball calendars as Bobby Bonilla Day. Bonilla must share Wednesday with another significant baseball event. It’s the reporting date for summer camp, aka Spring Training 2.0, the first step toward Major League Baseball’s attempt to stage a 60-game regular season followed by a postseason, all with COVID-19 lurking as an omnipresent threat.

Thanks to a deferred payment of his 2000 salary of $5.9 million that Gilbert negotiated with the Mets, Bonilla receives a check for $1,193,248.20 every July 1. The payments started in 2011 and the final one will be in 2035, when Bonilla will be 72. If he so chooses, Bonilla can play shuffleboard then on a gold-plated court.

Bonilla had his worst season in 1999 with the Mets, who had no interest in retaining him. But the Mets also rightly believed that if they could free themselves from immediately paying Bonilla his remaining $5.9 million, the money could be used to buy a free agent who could help them get to the World Series. They signed left-hander Mike Hampton and made it to the World Series, where they lost to the Yankees.

To afford Hampton, the Mets worked out a deferral of Bonilla’s contract. Gilbert negotiated a deal that included 8% interest. Mets owner Fred Wilpon figured that was affordable since he was making more than 10% interest on his investments with Bernie Madoff. That didn’t quite work out. Madoff was busted for his Ponzi scheme, but the Bonilla deal still did pay dividends beyond the World Series for the Mets. After deciding not to re-sign Hampton, they used the compensatory draft pick for that to select popular third baseman David Wright, a seven-time All-Star in a career spent entirely with the Mets.

It’s not the annual Bonilla check that has prevented Wilpon from spending with the big boys. It’s the $50 million annual payment for CitiField bond and rent the Mets pay New York City.

When his final check arrives, Bonilla will have turned $5.9 million into $29.8 million.

Gilbert no longer works as a baseball agent, rather as an insurance agent for countless Hollywood stars and as right-handed man to White Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf of “Last Dance” fame. You might remember Gilbert from the 2018 World Series, although you probably didn’t know it was him when you wondered, “Who’s that guy in the navy blue suit who sits right behind home plate at all the games at Dodger Stadium?”

Gilbert remains a believer in deferred payments and Bonilla stands at the opposite end of the spectrum from so many sad tales of athletes earning tens of millions of dollars only to blow their fortunes on bad investments.
“Remember,” Gilbert says, “it’s what you keep, not what you make.”

I share with Gilbert that I didn’t make a penny on my lone Bonilla transaction, except for the psychic income benefits of knowing I maintain a 1.000 batting average in baseball trades.

Covering the team for the Baltimore Sun, I had gotten to know Orioles owner Peter Angelos in strike-shortened 1994. I moved to the New York Post in 1995, and Angelos invited my wife and me to an Orioles game to sit in his private box. We met the late author Tom Clancy, who had a minority share in the Orioles at the time.

Angelos had a habit of asking beat writers what moves the team should make. In 1994, I quickly learned that my initial response was no way to gain access to what was going on with his team. “I don’t know,” I said at first, “ask your scouts. They know the game a lot better than I do.”

So in the middle of the summer of ’95 when Angelos asked from the seat next to me what move he should make for the pennant race, I was ready with an answer: “I think you should trade for Bobby Bonilla.”

A shocked Angelos: “What? Isn’t he a cancer in the clubhouse?”

“No,” I told him. “He just got off on the wrong foot with the writers in New York and it’s weighed on him ever since. He’d be eager to show he’s a good guy and he’d drive in a ton of runs for you.”

Angelos: “What would it take to get him?”

Me: “Alex Ochoa.”

Angelos: “What? Isn’t he our top prospect?”

Me: “Yes, but the scouts I trust the most tell me he’ll never hit the breaking ball.”

Angelos: “I’m going to tell my baseball people tomorrow to look into making that trade.”

On July 28, 1995, the Orioles sent Alex Ochoa and Damon Buford to the Mets for Bonilla and a player (Jimmy Williams) to be named later. In 61 games for the Orioles, Bonilla batted .333 and drove in 47 runs. It wasn’t enough to reverse their fortunes because Bonilla couldn’t pitch, but he definitely injected life into the Orioles’ offense. Ochoa spent most of his eight-year career as a fourth outfielder and retired with 46 home runs.

By 1998, the Orioles had hit hard times, and other than a few-season resurgence under GM Dan Duquette stayed out of contention. I think I know why: Angelos stopped listening to sportswriters and started listening to his “baseball people,” always a bad idea.

I never thought to parlay the Bonilla-Ochoa trade into a general manager’s position and it’s too late now. I lack what has become an unofficial prerequisite for the job: a degree from an Ivy League school.

Bonilla? He works for the Players Association, but thanks to his annual check for $1.19 million, he need not work very hard.

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