PawSox pitcher David Pauley, center, and his teammates are in good spirits as opening day approaches for Pawtucket tomorrow night.

The Providence Journal / Andrew Dickerman

PAWTUCKET — There’s only one thing that could bring Ben Mondor back from sunny south Florida to raw and rainy Rhode Island at this time of year — baseball.

Wax poetic, if you will, about the swallows returning to Capistrano, or seeing the first red robin go bob, bob, bobbin’ along. But, for local baseball fans, the surest — and most heartening — sign of spring is when Mondor returns to his office overlooking the third-base line at McCoy Stadium where, tomorrow night, his Pawtucket Red Sox will play their 32nd opener since he rescued the franchise from financial ruin in 1977.

“I hate the weather this time of year,” he said Monday afternoon. “I’m too old for cold weather.”

But then that warm, grandfatherly smile crosses his face, the twinkle returns to his eyes, and Mondor quickly adds: “But, what the heck, baseball starts Thursday. I got no complaints. Life is good.”

No matter what the weather, life is always good at McCoy where Mondor and the best organization — not just in minor-league baseball, nor even all of baseball, but all of professional sports — makes every day special.

Tomorrow night’s opener against Indianapolis certainly promises to be.

In a tradition started in 2002, following the tragic events of Sept. 11 the previous year, the PawSox will stage their annual tribute to firefighters and police from Rhode Island, Massachusetts and Connecticut. More than 50 departmental color guards will be on hand, including bagpipers from the R.I. Professional Firefighters who are a particular favorite of Mondor’s.

There’ll be a flyover by R.I. Army National Guard Blackhawks and the firing of howitzers that, Mondor says with a chuckle, “will scare the heck out of R.J. (PawSox manager Ron Johnson.)”

In addition, the president of the Dominican Republic, Leonel Fernandez Reyna, is expected to be on hand because one of his constituents, veteran right-hander Bartolo Colon, will be the starting pitcher for Pawtucket, tuning up for a promotion to Boston later this spring.

More than 10,700 fans turned out for last year’s opener and, with at least a semblance of spring-like weather predicted, the crowd may even surpass the 11,144 in attendance for the first game of the 2005 season.

As much as Mondor loves a full house, some of his most enjoyable moments now come when the ballpark is empty and the players are just beginning to drift onto the field to limber up in the hours before the game.

“What I enjoy most about this place is sitting out there,” he said, gesturing toward the owner’s box, “before batting practice, thinking about the players who have come through here. I get lost. I don’t see anything actually happening, but I remember.

“The memories here are limitless. They keep me alive.”

He remembers Chico Walker, a utility player who spent parts of 11 seasons in the majors with the Red Sox, Cubs, Angels, and Mets, and also spent part of five seasons, from 1980 through ’84, in Pawtucket.

“He lives in Chicago now,” Mondor said. “But he’s come here twice in the last five years because he wanted his girlfriend to see the place where he said he enjoyed himself more than any place in baseball.

“I’m an old sentimentalist. That’s the kind of thing that makes me feel very warm inside.”

He remembers how, in the late ’70s, Glenn Hoffman’s family used to vacation in Rhode Island so they could see him play.

“His father worked for the post office,” Mondor said. “He’d get a month’s vacation, and he’d take it here. Glenn’s younger brother, Trevor, would go out in the outfield before games and catch flies. I remember (manager) Joe Morgan telling me: ‘That kid’s going to have one heck of an arm, because he throws a couple hundred balls a day in from the outfield.’

“Some years later,” said Mondor, “when Trevor signed an $8-million contract with the Padres as their closer, he called and told me: ‘I wanted you to know, that’s because of all those balls I threw in from the outfield in Pawtucket.’ ”

Mondor remembers when, while he was recuperating from heart surgery at Miriam Hospital in 1994, Wade Boggs, who won one batting title in Pawtucket and narrowly missed winning another, sent him a 10-foot palm tree.

“The hospital administrator went crazy,” Mondor laughed. “He said: ‘Get that thing out of here!’

“The thing is,” Mondor said, “the fellows don’t forget what it meant to play here, what it meant to them to be here. That’s what I’m proudest of — they don’t forget.”

Now a new season, bringing new memories, is about to begin.

jdonalds@projo.com