A Long Day at the Diamond Managing a baseball team, says Rich Donnelly, is like being the plate spinner on the old "Ed Sullivan Show" - running from one precariously wobbly plate to the next, trying to avert the crash of china. What better way to spend a summer Sunday? Mr. Donnelly, 66, is in his third year as the manager of the Brooklyn Cyclones. They are a farm team for the Mets, who will host the Major League Baseball All-Star Game on July 16 at Citi Field. Before joining the Cyclones, Mr. Donnelly, a former minor league catcher, worked 28 years in the major leagues, mainly coaching third base. He is, he said, a creature of habit. From June to early September, Mr. Donnelly leaves behind his family in Steubenville, Ohio, for temporary accommodations in Gravesend, Brooklyn, and the delights of baseball in Coney Island. MANAGER UP I get up at 6 o'clock every morning, no matter what. If anybody was following me, a detective, they wouldn't have to follow me more than one day to know what I do every day. On Sundays I go down to the Parkview Diner. My waitress is named Norma. She knows what I have. I get my coffee, I read my paper. She knows that till I get to the back of the sports page, I'm not done, so that's about three cups of coffee. Then she brings my two pancakes. And then that's it. I head to the ballpark about 8:30. I do my lineup for the day. PREGAME DEVOTION At 9:30 I go to my church, Our Lady of Solace, which is about two blocks away. I don't know anybody at the church. I know faces. I don't know any names. PEACEFUL PARK I come back to the ballpark at 10:30. I get my coffee. I walk around the empty ballpark. It's peaceful. Once in a while on a Sunday, I'll come over really early in the morning, get a coffee and just walk out on the Boardwalk and look at the ocean for about a half-hour. OUT OF RANGE I don't have a space to park, but I park way out by a big oak tree, because if you park close, you might get hit with a foul ball. SPINNING PLATES I have 32 players here. At some point every day you talk to them, address them, scold them, congratulate them. That's what you do as a manager. If a guy got four hits, you don't need to talk to him. You need to talk to the guy who's 0 for 12 and had two errors. And once you get him going, the guy that got four hits, three days later he's 0 for 4, and you have to run back to him. That's what managing is about, off the field. You have to know which plates are wobbling. The guys that are doing good, you say hi and bye to them. Their day is coming later. SUSTENANCE Once I get here, I don't even go out to eat. I get food sent in. I got Chinese food, I got Nathan's, I got pizza. Sometimes I go three weeks without using a fork. And I like that. My wife says, "You love trouble, because you like to solve problems." IN THE MOMENT I had a daughter pass away 20 years ago. I started becoming a 24-hour person. I would enjoy every second, every minute, and that's what I try to do. I slept enough in my younger days. All that time you waste sleeping you could be doing something helpful or worthwhile. DRILLS We have a half-hour of defensive work every day we're at home, and a half-hour of extra batting practice. And then we have our regular infield and batting practice. I've thrown batting practice for 45 years. I've been hit once on the mound. Barry Bonds hit me on a Sunday afternoon, hit me right in the ribs, cracked my ribs. I ran straight from the mound to the trainer's room. I thought I was dead. POSTGAME After the game I have two coaches and a trainer and a strength coach, and we all have to send in reports of the game on the computer, for the Mets. THE FANS Sometimes I go out there at midnight and there's 20 people waiting for me to sign autographs. SAFE AT HOME I usually get home around 12. I love to eat - bad stuff, like ice cream bars - at night. After a game you're all hyped up. A lot of people drink. I don't drink at all. So I'll eat a couple ice cream bars, watch the late-night shows, do my lineup, pop a sleeping pill, like I do every night, and go to bed.