Ace is the place reserved for Minnesota's Santana

FORT MYERS, Fla. — The best pitcher in baseball walks into the Twins' clubhouse with the same greeting almost every day.

"Happy birthday!" he calls out to no one in particular, and to everyone. "Today is my birthday."

It's Johan Santana's way of celebrating the moment, of embracing life.

"To me, it's all about having fun," he said Monday. "This is a game. I learned to play this game by having fun and smiling and laughing. That's what I'm going to do."

And why shouldn't Johan Santana be having a blast? As one generation of aces nears their exit — Pedro Martinez, Roger Clemens, Randy Johnson, Greg Maddux — Santana has ascended to become the clear heir to the throne.

More accurately, King Johan has already been coronated.

In two of the past three years, Santana has been a unanimous Cy Young choice in the American League, and a strong argument could be made that he should have won in 2005, when Santana finished third to the Angels' Bartolo Colon and the Yankees' Mariano Rivera.

By every statistical measure, Santana is the dominant starting pitcher in the game. But it is the anecdotal evidence that clinches the title.

Rondell White, now a teammate, remembers facing the left-hander once and swinging so preposterously early at a changeup he misread as a fastball that the ball was a good 6 feet from home plate as he screwed himself into the ground. All White could do was laugh.

"He can do what he wants to do out there," said White. "He has that confidence. I'd be surprised if he doesn't throw three no-hitters. In one season."

Torii Hunter stands in center field for the Twins in constant awe of what he is witnessing. The befuddlement of opposing hitters at Santana's other-worldly changeup makes White's experience commonplace. Most pitchers strive for a 10-mph variance between their fastball and changeup. Santana's pushes 20 mph — and the arm action on both pitches is virtually identical.

"It's not even real," Hunter said. "It's like every time somebody swings, the ball just kind of goes under the person's bat. It's like the ball's alive. When he throws that changeup, the changeup does not want to get hit. It sees the bat coming and ducks. 'No sir, not today' — that's what it's saying."

OK, Santana's changeup doesn't really have a mind, and voice, of its own — as far as we know — but its operator does. And it has been getting stronger and more resolute since the Twins acquired Santana in 1999 via the greatest Rule 5 heist since the Pittsburgh Pirates stole Roberto Clemente from the Dodgers organization.

Santana had been signed as an outfielder at age 16 by the Houston Astros, who then converted him to pitching. That was astute; not protecting Santana on their 40-man roster and exposing him to the Rule 5 draft was not.

The Astros aren't the only team kicking themselves, however. The Marlins actually drafted Santana in the Rule 5 in 1999, then traded his rights to Minnesota for the immortal Jared Camp.

The Twins knew Santana had raw potential, but they had no idea they were acquiring royalty. Not until his first bullpen session in the spring of 2000, when they started to get the idea that something special was afoot. Then-manager Tom Kelly, a crusty sort who generally wants nothing to do with rookies, sought out Twins general manager Terry Ryan.

"He said, 'This kid looks good,' " Ryan recalled. "When you have a manager with Tom's résumé, it usually takes a little more than just throwing a bullpen to get impressed. I remember he came to me and said, 'This kid carries himself well.' That's a good start."

For Hunter, the "aha" moment came in an exhibition game that same spring of 2000, when Santana fanned Ken Griffey Jr., newly acquired from Seattle by the Reds, on a wicked slider.

"Griffey looked at him like, 'Wow!' " Hunter said. "Griffey asked him later what that pitch was. He said, 'It's called The Equalizer.' Watching that pitch move, I said, 'Man, when he gets to know the game, he's going to be one of the best pitchers out there."

That is now the case, and the Twins can't rave enough about every aspect of Santana.

"He knows now that he has to set the tone," manager Ron Gardenhire said. "We talked about that on the field the other day. He said, 'They watch everything I do.' So he's got that figured out. It's more than just making sure he's prepared. It's setting the tone for a lot of other people."

To Santana, it's nothing to be surprised about, or praised for. It's just the right way to conduct his business.

"I know how to handle myself in this game, and what to do out there," he said. "It's always good to transmit that to other players. I have learned a lot from watching and listening, and now I can be the one to teach."

He's come a long way from the kid growing up in the remote town of Tovar Merida, high in the Andes Mountains of Venezuela, who played right-handed as a Little Leaguer because that was the glove his father handed down.

Santana has never forgotten his Tovar roots. He provides scholarships for local students, lobbied Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez for a new sports complex to be built there, and has paid for cancer treatment and other medical costs of needy residents.

Santana's next challenge will be his contract negotiations. He is signed for two more seasons, but his camp has already begun subtly lobbying the Twins for an extension.

"If the team really wants to retain him they're probably going to have to do something soon," his agent, Peter Greenberg, told The Associated Press.

But Ryan bristles at the suggestion that Santana's status has become a distracting issue for the Twins.

"Well, he's signed for two years," Ryan said. "There isn't any uncertainty. That's a fallacy. He's signed for two years. That's a long time."

For now, the Twins will savor what they have — a pitching maestro at the very height of his game, still three weeks shy of his 28th birthday.

"That's what's scary — he's 27," Hunter said. "Most baseball players don't get into their prime until they're 31, 32. He's going to get smarter. Right now, he's just throwing it."

Throwing it like no one else in the game. Happy birthday, indeed.

Larry Stone: 206-464-3146 or lstone@seattletimes.com