Andruw Jones regrets failing the Dodgers

FROM SURPRISE, ARIZ. — "Are you saying you're sorry?"

I'm standing in a spacious Texas Rangers clubhouse, on a gorgeous spring morning, speaking to a trim and talkative Andruw Jones.

His legs are back. His smile is back. Even his -- gasp -- swing might be back.

Later this day at Surprise Stadium, he will stroke through a fastball from new Dodger Claudio Vargas, driving it off the left-field bullpen roof for his first home run of the spring.

A nasty bite of the hand that still feeds him $22 million.

Haunting Frank McCourt still.

Jones seems to know this, he seems to sense that no matter what happens, last season will follow him like a swatch of toilet paper stuck to his cleats. He spends the last 20 minutes of his morning conversation hinting at remorse and regret, and I finally just have to know.

"Are you saying you're sorry?"

Are you sorry for showing up at spring training looking like a blue manatee? Sorry for not working hard enough to fix that weight? Sorry for ripping the fans who booed you for that weight? Sorry for asking to be put on the disabled list so you could disappear from those boos?

The Dodgers gave you $36.2 million, and in exchange you gave them a batting average of .158, three home runs and 25 extra pounds, and so you're finally sorry?

Andruw Jones pauses. He looks down. He wraps his fingers tight around the handle of a bat. He nods.

"Yes, you could put it that way," he says. "Yes, in fact, put it exactly that way."

"Put it what way?"

"I am sorry I didn't stand up to my reputation," he says. "I am sorry for what I put everyone through. I am sorry I did not make it work."

A couple of hours later Monday, upstairs in a spartan suite, moments after Jones hit his home run, I convey this apology to Dodgers General Manager Ned Colletti.

Now it is Colletti's turn to pause, to look down, to tighten his grip.

"Humbleness is a nice trait," he finally says, and leaves it at that.

::

The first thing you notice about Andruw Jones this spring is the one thing you don't notice.

No belly.

"He showed up missing a boiler," a Rangers official says.

"Like night and day," Rangers hitting coach Rudy Jaramillo says.

Jones smiles; it seems all he does here is smile.

"Oh, I lost quite a few pounds," he says. "Somewhere in the 20s."