SF Giants' Tim Flannery: Music man TIM FLANNERY

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Hotel stairwell, music filling the air, a bottle of wine - the perfect place to begin a story about Tim Flannery.

Giants trainer Dave Groeschner reached to slide the key into his room's door at the Ritz Carlton in Philadelphia, late one night during the 2010 National League Championship Series. Groeschner suddenly stopped when he and his wife, Aimee, heard music.

Groeschner walked across the hall and popped his head into the stairwell. There he found Flannery, the team's ever-energetic third-base coach, playing his guitar. He invited the Groeschners to join him, summoned his wife, Donna (with the wine), and they all sat on the stairs for an impromptu concert.

Flannery played and sang and told stories about the lyrics in the personal, soulful tunes that have made him an accomplished musician and helped raise $60,000 for injured Giants fan Bryan Stow. Flannery often retreats to the solitude of hotel stairwells on the road, to unwind and savor the sounds of an unlikely venue.

"The acoustics are insane," he said. "Better sound than any opera house I've ever played."

On this night in Philadelphia, the music and conversation stretched for more than 90 minutes. Finally, approaching 2 a.m., the Flannerys and Groeschners decided it was time to sleep. One problem: They were locked in the stairwell.

Flannery had brought his cell phone and eventually reached Giants traveling secretary Michael King. King couldn't help but chuckle when he opened the stairwell door and saw the two couples, one guitar and one empty bottle of wine.

Now, any time Flannery finds sanctuary in a stairwell, he checks the door first.

San Francisco Giants third base coach and musician Tim Flannery photographed in his home on Thursday, August 23, 2012 in San Francisco, Calif. San Francisco Giants third base coach and musician Tim Flannery photographed in his home on Thursday, August 23, 2012 in San Francisco, Calif. Photo: Beck Diefenbach, Special To The Chronicle Photo: Beck Diefenbach, Special To The Chronicle Image 1 of / 4 Caption Close SF Giants' Tim Flannery: Music man 1 / 4 Back to Gallery

Long journey

Third-base coaches are like offensive linemen in many ways, noticeable only when they make a mistake. Flannery, 54, is more visible than most in good times, given his animated nature and the way he frequently scrambles down the line as if personally escorting a Giants baserunner across the plate.

But his story runs deeper than waving around runners. Way deeper.

Start with Flannery's family background. His ancestors came from Ireland in the mid-1700s - bringing Irish bluegrass music with them, as he put it - and settled in the Appalachians. One grandfather (his mom's dad) was a coal miner in Illinois, and his dad's side of the family grew up around coal mines in the mountains of Kentucky.

Flannery's dad, Ragon, left to become a Christian minister in Oklahoma and later Southern California, following the call of the church. The family was living in Redondo Beach when Ragon Flannery gave his kids a choice on their next move: Anaheim or Bellflower. Tim successfully campaigned for Anaheim so he could attend more Angels games.

He was consumed by baseball at an early age, partly because his uncle Hal Smith played 10 seasons in the majors. Smith, the brother of Flannery's mom, hit a three-run, go-ahead home run in the eighth inning of Game 7 of the 1960 World Series, a prelude to Bill Mazeroski's famous homer in the ninth.

Flannery's family history, then, infused him with an abiding passion for baseball - and a similar passion for music. (His love of surfing would come later, given the lure of the ocean.) His parents perpetually played records in the house, including the Louvin brothers and Everly Brothers.

Tom Flannery, Tim's younger brother by six years, carries vivid memories of singing at night as kids.

"I had the lower bunk; I'd kick his bed and then we'd just lay there and sing," said Tom, now a high-school choir director and church musician in Lexington, Ky. "Even though we were separated by a few years in our pop-music tastes, we had the same hymns from church. One of us sang melody and the other sang harmony."

All the Flannery kids were inspired by their father, who was "a little nutty" in Tim's words - infinitely generous and also capable of drinking others under the table. Tim occasionally found empty cupboards at home, because a member of his dad's congregation had no food. But before Ragon Flannery gave away the food, he made the person weed the yard.

One of the father's most enduring influences (he died 13 years ago, at age 74) remains the musical inclinations he passed along. Flannery's sister, Ragean, toured Europe as a pianist. Tom Flannery has taught music for 20 years and directed choirs in front of the Pope at the Vatican.

Most of the siblings' kids also write songs and play music, so Thanksgiving at the Flannery household often resembles a four-hour set. They eat dinner along the way.

Serious musician

Flannery has worked with a wide range of notable singers, from Jackson Browne and Dwight Yoakam to Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard and Linda Ronstadt. Flannery has made 12 CDs, mostly Irish bluegrass with a distinct country flavor.

So, yes, he's really into this. Don't expect, "Take me out to the Ballgame."

He always worried that people wouldn't take his music seriously. Or they would question his commitment to baseball, a silly notion given his obvious devotion to the game. So he separates his passions as much as possible: When he plays a show, as he does about 30 times every offseason, he's not introduced as the third-base coach.

This baseball/music combination did not always resonate in San Diego, where Flannery spent all of his 11 major-league seasons and later coached under Bruce Bochy. He encountered skepticism because he played the guitar rather than golf or cards.

That's not the case now, as Flannery learned during his two Bryan Stow benefit concerts last offseason. The Bay Area audiences loved it.

"They get that you can be an artist and coach third base," Flannery said. "It's the best thing about living here - they get it. It's changed my life, living up here. People down south get pissed off at me, but I don't care."

The brutal beating of Stow outside Dodger Stadium on Opening Day 2011 deeply shook Flannery. He couldn't get over how irrevocably life changed for Stow and his family in those fateful few minutes. So when Yoshi's Theater called with the idea of a benefit concert, Flannery quickly accepted.

He played one at Yoshi's in San Francisco in November and another, with the Grateful Dead's Bob Weir, at the Uptown Theater in Napa in January. Flannery is planning more concerts this offseason to raise money for Stow's medical care.

This is a shining example of tangible good arising from Flannery's skill at writing songs and playing the guitar. His music also helped pay the bills after the Padres fired him as third-base coach in 2002 - he took summer gigs he usually can't consider because of baseball.

Mostly, though, Flannery makes music because he loves it.

"It makes me breathe," he said. "Sometimes, my wife won't even talk to me after games until I sit in the corner for 20 minutes playing."

Flannery's songs and CDs tell the tale of his journey, from his family's roots to his life on the road. One song, "Pieces of the Past," was inspired by Flannery taking a piece of coal from the Kentucky mountains, where his dad grew up, and bringing it to him in his final years, as he fought Alzheimer's disease.

Ragon Flannery put the piece of coal in his mouth, slowly tasted it, looked into Tim's eyes and started telling stories of his youth, which his son had not heard. "That song is his history, my history," Tim said.

Or, as his brother Tom said, "Tim's music is truthful and organic. He's totally open, and that's why people relate."

Baseball man

Flannery also embraces surfing with vigor - he might have pieces of Kentucky in him, but he still grew up in SoCal. So he routinely wanders into the waters of Montara, Pedro Point and Half Moon Bay for another invigorating, adrenaline-filled pastime.

His job with the Giants counts as invigorating and adrenaline-filled. Flannery's emotional investment in baseball was clear in his playing days, as a scrappy utility infielder. Also consider this, courtesy of Tom Flannery: As a minor-league manager, Tim once got ejected and came back out in the mascot's uniform to manage the rest of the game.

Now he's one of the longest-tenured third-base coaches in the majors, and that's no accident. Tom Flannery drives from Lexington to Cincinnati when the Giants come to town, and Tim always brings his iPad to their lunches so he can watch opposing outfielders throw in the previous day's game.

He runs down the line on some plays because his mentors - Jimmy Davenport, Joey Amalfitano, Jimy Williams - taught him the importance of buying an extra second or two to decide whether to send home a runner. Flannery wears spikes, expecting a workout every game.

As Giants fans know, he errs on the aggressive side. Former owner Peter Magowan learned this in Flannery's first spring training with the team, in 2007. He was trying to rediscover his timing after four years away from coaching, and he had a few runners thrown out.

One night, at a banquet in Arizona, Magowan mentioned this to Flannery. Emboldened by a couple of glasses of wine, Flannery replied with a smile, "Well, if you wanted safety first, you should have hired a school crossing guard."

He loves working without a net, as he put it. It's why he does his research, contemplating the infinite possibilities of what might happen with two runners on base and a certain hitter at the plate.

And it's also why coaching third base suits Flannery so well, much like his other passions.

"There are times when surfing and music stir you, and there are times coaching is like that - you're in the moment, and it's a Zen-type thing," he said. "This is all you're thinking about, all you're consumed with. I'm obsessive, and the music and surfing are probably the best therapy for balancing that out. ...

"But one thing I've learned about coaching - if you don't respect it and honor it, if you don't prepare, it's going to blow up in your face. I was a platoon player. Now I get to play every day."

That's one game on the field and often one gig in the stairwell.