You walk up to some players early on a spring-training morning and the eyes look away. It’s like — “This is way too soon for talk. Let me drink my coffee and get ready for life.”

Not with Pence. His eyes are inviting. You might even say absorbing. They are open wider than most eyes, almost startled, and it seems he never blinks. Maybe he sees more than everyone else.

He is sitting at his locker, gazing around the clubhouse. That is what he does, he gazes. You ask for a minute of his time. You say the subject is awkward. He perks up. You say the subject literally is awkward. You tell Pence he looks awkward when he plays baseball.

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