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Hayes: Phillies' Galvis growing by leaps and grounders

'FIVE RIGHT at me. Five to the hole. Five in the shift. Then five backhand, going forward. Then five more straight."

'FIVE RIGHT at me. Five to the hole. Five in the shift. Then five backhand, going forward. Then five more straight."

Freddy Galvis recites the routine that has made him a Gold Glove contender.

It's more than 100 degrees on the field at Citizens Bank Park, the end of a long August heat wave. The dirt is baked and the Phillies aren't winning and just running up the steps of the dugout for the 122nd game of the 2016 season seems exhausting and, to a degree, pointless; the starting rotation is in shambles, the lone All-Star, Odubel Herrera, hasn't hit well since a week before the break, and any talk of a run at the wild-card playoff slots seems sillier with each passing day.

Still, Galvis has a spring in his step. His Afro-puffs peek from beneath his batting-practice cap, he has a smile on his face and he's ready to work: 25 ground balls, or 27 or 30 or however many it takes to make it 25 fielded perfectly, routinely. That's the key word: routine.

Follow the same routine. Make the routine play. Give your manager and coaches and pitchers every reason to turn their heads away when a routine ground ball is hit at shortstop, because they know you will make that play, every single time.

For more than a decade, Jimmy Rollins spoiled Phillies fans. He won four Gold Glove awards, which was probably too few considering his .983 fielding percentage ranks second all-time behind Omar Vizquel among shortstops who played the position for at least 12 seasons.

When Rollins left for the Dodgers after the 2014 season Galvis, in his fourth major league season, took over at short. The drop-off was startling. He committed 17 errors, three more than Rollins ever had; in fact, from 2008 through 2011, Rollins never committed more than 14 errors in any two seasons combined.

Bench coach Larry Bowa, a top-flight shortstop for the Phillies from 1970 to 1982, sat with Galvis before spring training began and scolded him:

"You're better than that, man. You didn't have a good year defensively."

To his surprise, Galvis replied:

"I know. I'm a lot better than that."

Before Bowa could say much more, Galvis had admitted to everything: He let poor at-bats and slumps affect his defense. His mind wandered during blowouts. He would goof off during batting practice, abandon fundamental techniques, showboat, sometimes take only a handful of ground balls.

Now, it's 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, every day, hot or cold, rain or shine.

The result: Galvis has only six errors. He ranks second in fielding percentage among National League shortstops, virtually tied with the Pirates' Jordy Mercer. Galvis has grown up.

"Sometimes, when we were losing by four or five runs in the fifth or sixth inning, my mind would just drift. Then, bang, somebody would hit me a grounder," Galvis said. "That's when I'd make my mistake, my errors. Now, I try to stay focused for 27 outs. When you concentrate 100 percent, and have a routine, it works."

"He's completely changed his whole routine. He'd let 0-for-4 bother him, go out and try to be flashy, make off-balance throws when he didn't need to," Bowa gushed. "His routine today is exactly the same as the first day of spring training this year. He's not deviated one time. His concentration's completely different."

Bowa has always been an excitable type, but now that he's 70 it takes more to get Bowa worked up. He gets excited about this sort of thing because, without defense, without routine, Bowa, a light-hitting water bug, never would have stuck in the big leagues.

Galvis fits that profile. He has more than 1,500 at-bats in the big leagues and a .239 average, .233 this season. That's probably who he is, though his 13 homers imply some emerging power, so maybe he'll become a more potent hitter, too.

Now 26, Galvis has been in the majors since 2012 but he mainly played second base until Rollins was traded in the winter of 2014. He cruised through 2015 but a light went on this spring.

"Freddy's played unbelievable shortstop," Bowa said. "Let's not lose sight of the fact that, if we had a more potent lineup, people might be saying how great he is, hitting seventh or eighth with (13) home runs and (51) RBIs."

Bowa has a point. He broke in at 24 and, over the next 11 seasons, averaged .263 at the plate with one home run and 35 RBI . . . yet Bowa, a defensive savant playing in a lineup with Mike Schmidt and Greg Luzinski, is revered.

Then again, Bowa didn't play in the shadow of players like Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez and Troy Tulowitzki . . . or even Rollins. It isn't likely that Galvis will go to five All-Star Games like Bowa, or that he will win an MVP award like Rollins did in 2007.

There is a chance, though, that Galvis can build a defensive reputation good enough to match Bowa's two Gold Glove awards, or maybe even Rollins' four. Rollins wasn't going to win any Gold Gloves if he hadn't worked on his backhand and his attitude.

"Jimmy didn't have a backhand, but he worked on it. Now, to this day I've never seen anybody backhand like Jimmy. It's off the charts," said Bowa, Rollins' manager for his first four seasons. "Jimmy also realized that if he went 0-for-4, he could still win a game with his glove."

Galvis announced his arrival as a highlight-maker April 25 last season with a diving stop, spin and throw that nailed the Braves' Nick Markakis at first base. It was a brilliant moment, but one that only lengthened Galvis' journey to consistency.

"Last year I'd rather catch the ball, spin and throw - make the fancy play instead of the routine play," Galvis said.

Now, he tries to make every play a routine play.

"I've begun to position myself better, watching the hitter. I pick better spots. I try to make everything a regular grounder," Galvis said.

Even regular grounders were adventures in 2015.

"Freddy did not concentrate at all last year. He'd go three games and I'd say, 'What are you doing out there?' " Bowa said. "Then he'd go for a week and I'd see him making things look easy and also making perfect off-balance throws, perfect backhands, and I'd ask: 'Why can't you do that?' "

The answer was always the same: focus.

"On routine plays, I try to focus more," Galvis said. "I know I can make all the hard play, the plays from the different angles."

Bowa noted that the Phillies have the same issues with third baseman Maikel Franco and second baseman Cesar Hernandez. When they slump at the plate, they slump in the field. Their techniques erode as the season wears on.

Franco is in the middle of his second full season. Hernandez was blocked by Chase Utley until Utley was traded a year ago, so this is Hernandez' first full season playing second base in the major leagues.

Bowa contends that the trade of Utley freed Galvis to be himself, much like the trades of Bobby Abreu, Cory Lidle and David Bell in 2006 freed players like Rollins, Utley, Cole Hamels and Ryan Howard to be themselves.

"I think sometimes Freddy didn't bring the energy because Chase was here. There's a pecking order," Bowa said. "Freddy's energy in the dugout now is off the charts. He's one of the guys who brings energy every single night."

It's worth noting that it is Galvis' old-school amp in the locker next to his that pumps music through the clubhouse. Shortstops in Venezuela are expected to be the chief on the field, but with a presence like Utley's, Galvis bit his tongue.

"I always considered myself a leader (in Venezuela). I can do that on this team now, too," said Galvis, who appreciated Utley's professionalism - no one was more a slave to routine than Utley - but who is relieved to have more of a role: "You can feel it."

Running the clubhouse is easy compared with running the infield, where you have to be the best player every day. The nuances and challenges of playing infield in the big leagues is difficult for the typical fan to fathom: increased pitch speeds, more spin on pitches and increased movement on pitches combined with faster swing speeds make routine ground balls anything but routine.

"The game's quicker. Ball's coming off the bat harder," Bowa said. "Topspin on the second hop is unbelievable."

"It takes at least two years for a player to become a good infielder," said third-base coach Juan Samuel, a former Phillies second baseman.

Two years, if they will listen and learn and work. Two years, if the player is allowed to progress naturally.

"People here (in Philadelphia) want that rebuilding process to happen instantly," Bowa said. "It doesn't happen that way with baseball."

It happens slowly. It happens 25 grounders at a time.

@inkstainedretch