TWO DEBUTS . . .PADRES. . .MADRES COULD LOVE

After Gene Walter’s first major league save came the afterglow, of course. That always comes first. But the plea from the public always comes next. It’s The Seduction. Women, mere strangers, walk up and say they love you. The afterglow turns to afterblush.

It happened to Walter just as it happened to Lance McCullers, his fellow phenom. Both are relief pitchers fresh up from the minors who were successful in their major league debuts last week. And both were approached by a blonde woman as they walked to their cars one night.

She introduced herself, saying she was a San Diego Madre.

Walter and McCullers, both San Diego Padres, said “A Madre?”

She explained. The Madres support the Padres. They are a women’s booster club. And they also support youth baseball. She asked if they’d speak at their upcoming luncheon.

This was The Seduction.

They agreed, although Walter was a little hesitant since he was trying to find an apartment and had more important things to do with his free time. But his newlywed wife, Robin, looked at the woman, winked and said, “He’ll be there.” McCullers, all for a little attention, needed no coaxing. It was a date.

They showed up on time, which amazed some of the women, apparently because not all players have been prompt. Immediately, there was applause as they approached the head table. Walter wore dress pants. He’s 24 and is the conservative type. McCullers, 21, wore jeans.

They sat down. The ladies, mostly in their 50s and 60s, stood. They formed long lines for autographs, until someone supposedly in charge said, “Everybody take your seats.” She repeated herself three times until the ladies obeyed.

Anything for a Lance McCullers autograph.

As Walter eventually left the head table for the buffet line, he was stopped by a woman in her 60s. “Welcome to San Diego,” she said.

“It’s good to be here,” he said.

“We love you,” she said.

Finally, the speeches began, and Andy Strasberg, the Padre marketing director, said to the ladies: “These are two new guys. Please go easy on them.” And they apparently were a tough audience because they booed Walter briefly when he told them he was from Chicago.

Strasberg then ended his speech by saying: “These guys have come in just like they’ve been around 20 years. Look at Steve Garvey and Goose Gossage and Graig Nettles. They all had to go through stages to prove themselves. But here are two guys who took charge. A lot of greats in the game haven’t started out so well.”

All this, and they had yet to pitch in their second major league games.

“Nobody ever forgets their debut.” --Tim Flannery

He might be right.

Kurt Bevacqua, with Cleveland--”I remember it like it was yesterday. I got there late to Boston and had time to take one swing in batting practice, and I was in the lineup that night. My first time up, I grounded out to the shortstop. Sonny Siebert was pitching, and he was about 12-1 at the time. The next time, I hit a double off the wall.

“I was playing second base, and on a double-play ball hit to the third baseman, I straddled the bag and didn’t move. Yaz (Carl Yastrzemski) slid into me and said: ‘You better get out of there on the pivot, kid, or somebody’s going to hurt you.’ I have no idea what happened the rest of the series. And I don’t know why.”

Terry Kennedy, with St. Louis --”My first at-bat was against Ron Reed. He threw me a changeup, and I grounded out to second. My first (full) game was in Pittsburgh, and I had to catch (Pete) Falcone before he got his control and I had to face Bert Blyleven. Needless to say, I didn’t have a good day. I struck out three times, and Falcone threw three wild pitches.

“After that, I didn’t think I’d hit in this league. It was depressing. I’d never seen a curve like that. Lou Brock always said you’ll point to one game or one play when you know you’ve arrived. . . . Mine was when I hit two three-run homers in Cincinnati. One against Tom Seaver and one against Tom Hume.”

Flannery, with the Padres--”It was Gaylord Perry’s last game as a Padre before he went to work on the peanut farm. First, I lined to the shortstop. Then, I had a base hit and an RBI. Next, Eddie Whitson hit him in the leg with a pitch.”

Carmelo Martinez, with the Chicago Cubs--”I hit a homer. I went 2 for 3 with two RBIs. The first week, I had four homers. And I finished with six in 26 games. It was fun.”

Kevin McReynolds, with the Padres--”I hit a homer. I had to stay a while after that game (to talk to reporters). It was a day game, and I probably didn’t get out of here until 5 o’clock.”

Garry Templeton, with St. Louis--”I remember I got a hit. I went 1 for 4 against the Houston Astros. I haven’t got a hit against them since.”

Eric Show, with the Padres--”I threw two innings of shutout ball. Two strikeouts, one hit and no walks. Against Chicago.

“And everyone made a big deal out of it. I couldn’t understand why.”

Every debut has a story.

Walter, much to the dismay of the Madres, grew up in the Chicago area, where high school baseball means you bring a bat, a glove and an overcoat to each game.

“The first week or so of the season is snowed out,” Walter said. “Or the field is frosted over. My sophomore year, we had a fire going in the dugout. The infield would be muddy, so we’d play in the outfield. They’d just line the field out there, and there would be no pitcher’s mound.”

Somehow, he made it out of there, and attended Eastern Kentucky University. He was stuck on a dormitory floor that largely included members of the swimming team. That’s where he met his wife, who had been friends with some of the girls who hung around the pool.

After his junior year, he was picked by Montreal in the 25th round of the 1981 June draft. They offered him a $1,000 bonus, but he talked them up to $2,500. Then, he talked them into paying his tuition, too. But, there was a baseball strike, and, with money harder to come by, the Expos withdrew their offer. He never signed with them.

In his senior year, he started the season against the University of Kentucky, and there were many scouts in the stands. But he pulled a muscle in his forearm after his first slider, and stayed in only because he didn’t want to walk away from all those scouts.

“Everything was in the dirt,” Robin said. “I was almost crying. I knew something was wrong. He was probably thinking ‘It’s over.’ ”

But it wasn’t. San Diego drafted him in the 29th round of the 1982 draft, and he was off to Walla Walla, and then to Miami. In Miami, his team lost 90 games, and naturally his record was poor.

At first, he hated his manager, who used to scream at him for taking too long between pitches. When he’d finally throw a pitch, there would be a blunder in the field. Once, a center fielder dropped a ball, and he lost. Once, a 17-year-old shortstop beat him with a ninth inning hit.

The following year, he was sent back to Miami, and then finally moved up to Double-A ball in Beaumont, Tex. This was last year. A kid named McCullers went from Miami to Beaumont last year, too. And they were both sent to Las Vegas, the Triple-A team, at the beginning of this season.

Walter was called up first. Originally, he was to join the Padrs on Aug. 6, but that would only be if there was no strike. There was. So he joined the Las Vegas team in Hawaii. When the strike ended a day later, he wondered if the Padres still wanted him. There had been no call.

“The call never came,” Robin said. “So we didn’t get much sleep. But at about 9:30 (on Aug. 8), we were lying there, thinking. I was awful. At 9:45, there was a knock. We knew it wasn’t the maid because we had the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the doorknob. It was Bob Cluck (the Las Vegas manager). He said, ‘Big leaguers don’t sleep late.’

“And that was the most exciting moment. We jumped up and down. We went out to lunch with a friend, and he said, ‘Doesn’t Robin have that glow today?’ ”

Robin didn’t make it to Walter’s first game, mainly because she’s not a big baseball fan. They had flown all night from Hawaii, and since the Padres were playing a doubleheader that night, she didn’t feel like sitting through two games.

“Besides,” she said, “I didn’t think he’d pitch.”

But he did.

“They said (on the radio) he was warming up, and I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I almost took a taxi to the ballpark, but I listened. I was nervous, cupping my hands the whole time. When he came into games in Las Vegas, I’d say ‘Good. Another save tonight.’ But this was different.

“I had to call somebody. And my parents weren’t home. So I called my grandmother, and I hadn’t spoken to her since spring training. But I had to tell somebody. I was so excited.”

They slept in until 2 p.m. the next day. She went shopping, and two men were talking to the two female sales clerks about baseball. The men left, and Robin mentioned that her husband pitched for the Padres.

“Who?” the clerks squealed.

“Gene Walter,” she said.

“Tell him we love him,” they said.

When Walter had checked out of his Hawaii hotel to leave for San Diego, McCullers had said: “I’m following you up there, just like I did from Miami to Beaumont and from Beaumont to Las Vegas.”

And then, the very next day, Cluck visited McCullers.

Cluck: “What you doing tomorrow morning? Can you get up early?”

McCullers: “Why?”

Cluck: “You’re going to San Diego. Congratulations.”

Immediately, McCullers called his parents, who immediately booked a flight to San Diego to see him pitch. McCullers is a tough guy, but he has been through a lot. When he was younger, he had worn thick glasses because of a muscle problem in his eyes. Contact lenses made his career.

He had originally been selected by Philadelphia on the second round of the 1982 June draft, but Padre General Manager Jack McKeon got him with three other pitchers for Sixto Lezcano and pitcher Steven Fireovid in August of 1983. It upset McCullers for a while, but only until he became familiarized with the Padre organization.

Quickly, he threw (fastballs, mostly), and quickly he moved up. The Phillies, when they spoke about possibly trading Bo Diaz to the Padres, wanted McCullers back. No way, said McKeon.

And then came his debut, 2 innings of shutout ball.

“You can’t let it get to your head,” he said. “A lot of guys have success and let it go to their head and then don’t make it. The next game is always more important than your last game.”

Would there ever be a next game?

For days, they sat in the bullpen, never pitching, never getting into game No. 2.

On Thursday, six days after his debut, Walter ran in to pitch against Cincinnati. The Padres had just overcome a 4-0 deficit, tying it in the bottom of the ninth. Walter started the 10th.

The first batter, Ron Oester, rolled the ball harmlessly on the ground, but right in between third baseman Nettles and shortstop Templeton. Templeton stopped it, but it was too late. Oester was safe. And he was advanced to third. Walter left then, and Roy Lee Jackson gave up the game-winning single. Walter was charged with the loss.

“He comes out, and he signs autographs and he gets in the car,” Robin said. “Silence for five minutes. And he bangs his hands on the steering wheel.

“We concluded that you get cheap losses, but you also get cheap saves. He decided he had no control over it so you can’t worry about it.”

But then Gene said to her: “It makes me mad.”

Said Robin: “It makes me madder.”

Meanwhile, McCullers finally pitched his second game Friday night against Atlanta, four days after his debut. He walked his first batter, but this, he says, was because of a mechanical error in his release. The catcher, Kennedy, told him about it, and McCullers corrected himself.

With the bases loaded, he got Rafael Ramirez to hit into a double play.

Then, he picked off Dale Murphy the following inning.

When he got the save, his second, he pumped his fist into the night. The crowd stood and clapped.

The Seduction was on. Still.

‘You can’t let it get to your head. A lot of guys have success and let it go to their head and then don’t make it. The next game is always more important than your last game.’

--Lance McCullers