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Russ Johnson shares a message with children that his father imparted: "Try to do the right thing every single day.''
By ANDREW MEACHAM
© St. Petersburg Times, published April 22, 2001
LARGO -- At his job, Russ Johnson fields baseballs. Some are tougher to handle than others. For two hours Wednesday, he fielded questions from a group of incarcerated boys and girls. And some questions were tougher than others.
About 40 residents at Florida Youth Academy would learn that the Devil Rays second baseman likes action films, Braveheart and Gladiator. That his favorite color is blue. That he drives a 1992 Ford pickup and said he doesn't need a mansion.
"What is your favorite food?"
"Crawfish," he said, betraying a Louisiana twang. "And iced watermelon."
Later, a girl asked Johnson if he had ever tried marijuana.
"One time," Johnson answered without hesitating. "It's overrated. A waste of my time."
"Do you enjoy the spotlight and do you worry about when your career is over?"
"I don't worry about that. The only thing that matters is when you're between those white lines."
Florida Youth Academy, 12895 Seminole Blvd., houses 132 young people up to 18 years old who have committed crimes. Theft, burglary and assault are the most common offenses, said Donna D'Amore, FYA's program director. The academy takes referrals from the state Department of Juvenile Justice.
Johnson, 28 and in his second year with the Rays, said he tries to share with young people a message that his father, a Louisiana soybean farmer, imparted to him.
"My dad told me, "You want to be bad?' " Johnson said. "Try to do the right thing every single day. Because if you can do that, you are bad." In this case, "bad" meaning worthy of respect.
The farmer's son exudes humility and cockiness.
"I don't get caught up in the hoo-hah" of other people's reputations, he told the boys after naming Pete Rose and Len Dykstra as the players whose games he most admired. "I tend to think, "I can play with him.'
"Most of the guys in the big leagues are that way."
As a boy growing up in Denham Springs, a small town outside of Baton Rouge, La., Johnson got in his share of fights and made youthful mistakes, he said.
"I never got caught, let's put it that way," he said. He and wife Trisha have been married six years. They have a son, Cole, 2. "Good choice," he said of his marriage, grinning.
The girls were brought in, 13-18 years old, serving 9-15 months.
One asked how much money he makes.
"In a month, about 40," he said.
"Forty dollars?" the teenager asked.
"Forty thousand," Johnson said. Though not huge by major-league standards, his monthly salary is exactly 100 times what his father averaged from his crops. Johnson told the girls he drives a 1992 Ford pickup, and is unimpressed by money.
Another girl asked him if he chewed tobacco.
Yes, but only on the baseball field. "Bad choice," he said.
He urged both groups to finish their educations, a goal he intends to resume once his baseball career is over. Being better than someone else doesn't matter, he told the youth, so much as challenging oneself.
"If I was digging ditches, I'd be the best ditch digger Russ Johnson could be," he said. "I may not dig the deepest ditch or the fastest ditch. But I'll tell you this: You'd have to work hard to keep up with me."