The biggest difference between this year's Giants manager and the one of the previous 10 years is that no one will complain if Felipe Alou's son somehow finds his way into the dugout for an extended stretch of games.

That is, as long as that son is Moises Alou. Felipe, despite his 67 years, also has an 11-year-old son, Felipe Jr. Which just goes to show, he hasn't slowed down that much, even if he is the oldest manager to be hired since the 1962 Mets gave 71-year-old Casey Stengel the job.

	Felipe Alou, 67, played for the Giants from 1958-63 and returns 40 years later as the team's manager.

"It could be, of course, that I am too old. They could be right,'' Alou said. But, he stresses, he heard similar comments when he was stuck managing in the minors. "There was a time when I was too Latin or too black or too stupid or too inexperienced or too foreign. And now I'm too old.''

Like Grampa Simpson, Alou has a tendency to ramble on about the old days -- "My highest salary was $58,000. ... My signing bonus was $200. ...'' -- but though his stories take a few detours along the way, you better be listening when they reach their destination.

"He connects with players, that's what makes him a great manager,'' said Giants outfielder Marquis Grissom, who played for Alou in Montreal. "That's what makes him different. He wants to know what a player is like inside to see what kind of player he can develop into.''

When last we left the Giants, they were walking off the field stunned. They led the Angels 5-0 in the seventh inning of Game 6 of the World Series and were just eight outs from their first world championship since moving to San Francisco. They lost that game, lost a 1-0 lead the next night, lost Game 7 and lost the World Series.

It was a haunting loss for fans -- "Why couldn't (Scott) Spiezio have hit that home run just three feet lower!?!'' -- but the losses continued. Days later, they lost manager Dusty Baker to the Cubs. Then they lost All-Star second baseman Jeff Kent to free agency, No. 1 starter Russ Ortiz in a trade and third baseman David Bell to free agency.

So now here they are in spring training, ready to start anew, still looking for the world title that has eluded them for 48 years. Their clubhouse resembled a wing at Cooperstown the other day. Orlando Cepeda sat on the dugout bench next to the clubhouse entrance. Willie Mays sat at a table inside wearing an expression that could silence the Rally Monkey. Barry Bonds sat a couple feet from him.

And down the hallway was yet another name from San Francisco's past, as well as a link to its previous near-miss in the World Series.

When the Giants lost 1-0 to the Yankees in Game 7 of the 1962 World Series, Alou failed to successfully lay down a sacrifice bunt in the ninth inning that would have moved his brother, Matty, to second base. Instead, Felipe struck out. The game ended when Willie McCovey lined out to second baseman Bobby Richardson to end the game with Mays at second base and Matty stranded at third base, 90 feet from tying the game.

	“	He connects with players, that's what makes him a great manager. That's what makes him different. He wants to know what a player is like inside to see what kind of player he can develop into. ”
		— Marquis Grissom, Giants outfielder, on manager Felipe Alou

The memory still remains with Alou, as it does San Francisco fans.

"It haunts me to this day,'' he said. "I always realize that I failed to get the bunt down. I wasn't prepared for it. I hadn't practiced it enough. I bunted once or twice all year and then when they had me do it (in the World Series) I didn't execute.''

That failure provided incentive for Alou as a manager. Because he failed in 1962, he's made sure his teams always concentrate on fundamentals. "You learn a lot of stuff with failure,'' he said. "You learn a lot when you're 67. Hopefully, we die learning.''

That attitude and approach helped make Alou one of the best and most respected managers of the '90s. But he last managed a team in May of 2001 and it doesn't take long in sports (or anywhere else, for that matter) before people begin wondering whether you still have what it takes when you're old enough to draw social security. It certainly didn't help Alou when he copied down the lineup wrong as bench coach in Detroit last year, which led to the Tigers batting out of order.

Alou takes responsibility for the lineup mess but insists it is no indication that he's losing command of the game or desire to win, joking that the worst thing he could do is fall asleep during a tie game.

"My desire is the same,'' he said. "I am a fighter.''

When Alou managed in Montreal, he was used to continually losing his best players. He lost Larry Walker. He lost Pedro Martinez. He lost Grissom. He even lost his son, Moises, to free agency. Compared to that, what's losing a second baseman?

"I was the king in Montreal. ... I was keeping the seed of baseball alive. In Montreal, I had three general managers and eight farm directors,'' Alou said. "I don't believe it will be that way here.''

In San Francisco, Alou knows he will be manager for only a couple years. His contract runs for two years with a club option for a third and "I don't see going beyond that. When you say 70 years old ..." Alou says, acknowledging that 70 may be even too old for him. "I have to make money to help people. To put it boldly, I have to make some money. I didn't make money at a younger age so I have to make it now.''

And then he is off, talking about all the people he supports back in the Dominican Republican -- "We (ballplayers) are the social security system for a lot of people in the Dominican Republic'' -- and his initial signing bonus and the 1962 series.

Clearly, Alou has a lifetime of baseball experience, knowledge and expertise. The key is whether he can still put that to use enough with his players to give San Francisco a chance to finally win a World Series that has escaped it since he was a player. But 67 isn't that old, really. After all, Joe Torre is 62 and no one is questioning his ability.

"Baseball has been around for 100 years. Two hundred years,'' Grissom said. "The game isn't going to change. Fundamentals aren't going to change. I don't think he's any different than when I played (for) him and that was 10 years ago.''

Jim Caple is a senior writer for ESPN.com.