SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. -- The joy people derive from watching Tim Lincecum pitch is a fraction of what the right-hander himself feels when he's at work.

Then again, baseball isn't much work at all for Lincecum. His face is typically fixed in concentration when he's on the mound. But at any other time when he's within the confines of a ballpark, he's usually beaming about something. Just about anything -- a teammate, the hours leading to a pitching appearance, even a piece of equipment -- will put a smile on his face.

"I think a lot of young guys feel the excitement he has and some of them aren't prone to showing it," Giants left-hander Barry Zito said. "But this is what he loves. Baseball is his life and this is his dream, like a lot of us. Having fun is what got him here. Other guys stop having fun when they get here and they start to press."

It's difficult to imagine "The Freak" freaking out over pitching. The grim focus he maintains during a game is preceded by happy anticipation. Many pitchers follow a set routine before each start, which includes whipping themselves into a deathly serious mood. By contrast, Lincecum said that his pregame preparation tends to vary, and whatever he does, gloom isn't his style. Lincecum's liable to turn the clubhouse into a concert hall by firing up his iPod. He'll even chat amiably on the bench with reporters.

"I try to live in the moment," the National League's reigning Cy Young Award winner said recently. "I'm focused on the game, obviously, but some people focus so hard that they stress themselves out over it and get anxious and start worrying. I try to be as loose and relaxed as I can before a game because it helps me."

Asked if he has ever stared grimly into his locker before a game, even as a youth, Lincecum replied, "Uh, not really, no. I was like, 'Can anyone play with me?' "

Lincecum's sense of humor seems always within reach. While pitching for the Giants' Triple-A Fresno affiliate in 2007, a song blared on the public-address system between innings that inspired infielder Kevin Frandsen to perform a dance that went along with the tune. Lincecum noticed Frandsen and mimicked his steps.

"It's kind of hard not to have fun out there," Lincecum said.

Frandsen described Lincecum's range of moods by saying, "He's got two levels: He's got the day that he pitches and he locks in. He's got that other level where he becomes, not a cheerleader, but such a big part, like the spirit of the dugout."

"I don't think it'll get decided until the end, because they're all pretty good."

-- Twins manager Ron Gardenhire

Lincecum almost seems as if he takes more pleasure in his teammates' achievements than in his own. When he doesn't pitch, he's one of the most vocal and animated players in the dugout, quick to vault the dugout railing after a Giants victory to join the on-field celebration.

"Competition is exciting," Lincecum said. "It's like almost being a fan. You form these connections with people and you want them to do well."

"When he's not pitching, what you like about him is that the game is still important to him because he's pulling for his teammates to do well, and they appreciate that," said manager Bruce Bochy, who admitted that Lincecum's zealous reactions to big Giants moments sometimes worry him. "You don't want to lose this guy [to an injury] because of his enthusiasm jumping around the dugout."

Lincecum, 24, has always been this way. His father, Chris, has a photograph taken when 8-year-old Tim was playing club league basketball. The younger Lincecum was one of two players on the bench. While the other player sat and sulked, Tim was leaping in the air to root on his teammates.

"He's stubborn and willful and physically tough, but he has a big heart," Chris Lincecum said.

The length of a baseball season almost forces teammates to bond. This suits Lincecum's gregarious nature.

"It makes the season worthwhile," Lincecum said. "If you don't really enjoy [others'] company, it's like, 'Why am I really doing this?' You can enjoy all the different kinds of personalities, people, environments -- and it never stops. You always meet new people. Things are constantly changing, which makes it constant fun."

Lincecum even revels in baseball equipment. For example, he covets fielders' gloves the way Carrie Bradshaw of "Sex and the City" coveted Manolo Blahniks. When he sees a glove he likes, he feels compelled to try it on.

"When I was a kid, I had this taste for baseball gloves," Lincecum explained. "My favorite glove when I grew up was a catcher's glove. I wasn't a catcher; I just liked the feeling of them."

Lincecum's curiosity wasn't limited to gloves. He'd sneak into the dugout when his older brother, Sean, was playing Little League and don any unattended set of catcher's gear.

"He looked like a Smurf with a helmet," Chris Lincecum said.

Nor was Tim interested only in baseball.

"In football, if they came up with a new helmet or shoulder pads or cleats, I was like, 'Ohhh!' I was always up on that kind of thing," said the Giants ace.

Lincecum's enthusiasm can only help the Giants.

"I think a lot of guys feed off him," Frandsen said.

The feeling's mutual.

"I feed off of other people's energy as well," Lincecum said.

Put in other terms, it's just Timmy being Timmy.

"Look at Manny," Lincecum said, citing free-agent slugger Manny Ramirez, baseball's most-noticed non-Giant. "He's having fun out there."