TEMPE, Ariz. — As sure as the sun rises in the east and Ozzie Guillen rises in a talkative mood, it will happen.

At some point this season, Guillen will talk about retiring, going home to Miami and living the good life. It happens once or twice a year when the frustrations of being a manager get the better of him. It even happened in 2005, and the White Sox won the World Series that year.

But it's spring training, life is blossoming in the desert and Guillen is talking about . . . death.

"I hope I die on the field," he says. "I hope when I walk to change the pitcher, I drop dead and that's it. I know my family would be so happy that it happened on the field. They wouldn't feel bad because that's what I've always wanted to do.

"You die on the field — good luck, get him out of here, next man."

As long as it's a heart attack and not, say, a deranged groundskeeper acting alone, that would be OK. To Guillen, it would be the perfect way to go out. You die doing what you love to do, and they carry you out on your shield.

It seems like yesterday that the Sox hired Guillen, but it was 2004. That's a lot of victories and swear words ago. He's not an elder statesman, not yet, but he has been around awhile.

Were there people who didn't think he would make it to his sixth year with the Sox? Probably. When the Sox hired him, he was unproven. And as a rule, managers don't last long.

But Guillen has had enough good players to be successful. And he has enough enthusiasm to light a moonless night.

"All the managers the White Sox went through, I have a lot of respect for them, but I don't think any of those managers had more passion for this ballclub than me," he says. "Nobody. I know it.

"I played here. I love (Chairman) Jerry Reinsdorf to death. I love this organization. There's nobody out there, I don't care who you are, who is as big a White Sox fan as Ozzie. Nobody. Not even Jerry."

Wednesday was Opening Day for spring training games, and that partially might explain Guillen's exuberance. But he played 13 seasons for the Sox, and for him, things truly are black and white.

"I want to do this as long as the White Sox want me to," he says. "I don't want to burn any bridges because that would be stupid, but I cannot picture myself managing another ballclub. I don't think other teams are going to put up with my (stuff)."

By "stuff" he means his bluntness. He will say anything anytime, and it has been known to get him in trouble now and then. To the people who don't understand him and never will, six Ozzie years is about 50 of everybody else's years.

But in a packaged, choreographed world, think about how lucky we have it with Guillen. He says what he thinks.

"I never lie to any of my players," he says. "I think that's my problem, being too honest."

That's not a problem, that's a solution.

Guillen says Chicago understands him, but he's not quite sure he translates to the rest of the country. He should stop caring about it.

"They don't know how fun I am, they don't know how I love my players, they don't know I kiss my players, they don't know who I am," he says. "I can kiss you and pat you on the back, but if you don't do what you're supposed to do, I'll be screaming at you, too, because that's part of my job. I want my players to be great."

The Sox probably won't be great this season, but they're not going to be the 74-victory, last-place team Baseball Prospectus says they will be. What they are, at this particular moment, is a strange team. On one hand, you think to yourself that they're too old, that they should have done something about the Paul Konerko-Jim Thome-Jermaine Dye immovable monument to age spots. On the other hand, you think that if aging Jose Contreras and Bartolo Colon are healthy, the Sox could be a force.

Guillen knows this kind of team. He had this basic model last year, when he did his best job of managing. There were injuries, blow-up dolls, a public rip job on the Sox's offense and lots of lineup changes. He would like a little more peace this year. Not peace and quiet — we're talking about Guillen here — but maybe a little less drama.

Ah, never mind. He likes the drama too.

"I do this because I love it," he says. "I love it every day. I love to come here and talk to the people. I love to be in the game. I love to feel the ballpark — not because I need it, but because I want it."

The Sox lost, 12-3, to the Angels on Wednesday. Guillen had to replace a pitcher in the eighth inning but managed to live another day. Or lived to manage another day.