Padres Look for Relief With the Hope There Won’t Be a Flashback for . . . : GRIM TIM

Tim Stoddard looked at the row of fluorescent lights in the Padre clubhouse and flashed back to his days as a starter on North Carolina State’s 1974 NCAA championship basketball team.

The basketball instincts--or at least the jumping ability--were still there. He stretched his 6-foot 7-inch frame and executed a phantom slam dunk over the lights.

Nowadays, the Padres are more interested in flashbacks from the 1984 Stoddard than the 1974 Stoddard. They prefer the man who had a career-high 10 wins and seven saves for the 1984 Chicago Cubs.

What about the 1985 Stoddard who did not fulfill the Padres’ expectations?

Touchy subject.

“Last year did not exist,” Stoddard said. “It wouldn’t be good for me to answer questions about being 1-6 and (pitching like) horse manure. I can still pitch, otherwise the Padres wouldn’t have signed me for three years. I had a bad year last year. I came here as a free agent and everybody was on me. There are a lot of things you can blame last year on. It’s over, and there’s no sense rehashing it.”

The Padres now must wonder if they made a $1.5-million mistake by signing Stoddard for three years. They must also consider whether Stoddard’s 1985 performance was the exception or will be the norm.

After watching Stoddard pitch effectively in a recent exhibition game, Manager Steve Boros concluded that 1985 will be the exception.

“Coming off the field, I said he was the old Tim Stoddard,” Boros said. “By that, I don’t mean the Stoddard of last year. I mean the Tim Stoddard who did so well at Baltimore and Chicago. I think he’s going to be a good relief pitcher for us this year. What’s more important is that he thinks he’s going to be good this year.”

In retrospect, attitude could have been a factor in Stoddard’s poor 1985 performance.

Stoddard’s misfortunes began when Dick Williams, then the manager, criticized Stoddard publicly during the exhibition season. Williams repeatedly criticized Stoddard during the regular season and Stoddard often went long periods of time without pitching.

“The manager didn’t help him at all last year,” said one player, requesting anonymity. “It has to hurt your confidence when the manager tells you that you won’t pitch again after you give up a home run.”

Said Stoddard, concerning Williams: “That’s over with. He’s not here anymore. That happened last year, and I’m not talking about last year.”

Nor would Stoddard talk extensively about this or other years. He politely made it known that he doesn’t wish too much to be known about him personally.

“I don’t need the press, good or bad,” he said. “I don’t need to be a hero when I pitch three innings. I find out that the less you say, the better it is.”

Teammates even have a difficult time becoming acquainted with Stoddard.

Lee Smith, the Cubs’ top relief pitcher, was Stoddard’s best friend on the team in 1984. Smith said that while Stoddard and he sometimes had a drink in the hotel bar, they usually went their separate ways.

Most of their coversations took place in the bullpen, according to Smith.

“Timmy is not the partying type,” Smith said. “Whenever we talked, it was about baseball. In fact, he nearly drove me crazy talking about baseball.”

Goose Gossage is Stoddard’s best friend with the Padres. Gossage isn’t talking to the San Diego baseball writers these days.

There were stretches when Stoddard, 33, had something to talk about last season. He allowed two runs in a 10-inning period from June 2 through June 22. And in eight games before the All-Star break, he had a 2.08 ERA.

His downfall came shortly after the All-Star break when he lost three games in one week. It was goodby pitching mound, hello doghouse.

“We know he has had a lot of better years than last year,” said Galen Cisco, Padre pitching coach. “But that happens to a lot of relief pitchers. Almost every relief pitcher has had a bad year. I can’t figure out why. After it happens, you usually say that a guy with his experience will bounce back the next year and make up for it.”

The Padres had been banking on Stoddard’s past performances. He had 26 saves in 1980 and 12 saves in 1982 with Baltimore. In 1984, he pitched the middle innings with the Cubs and was the set-up man for Smith, who got most of the saves. Stoddard was supposed to have an identical role complementing Gossage last season, but he rarely pitched after July.

“I think Timmy is the type who needs to pitch a lot, just like I do,” Smith said. “If you don’t pitch two or three times a week, you tend to overthrow and get the ball up.”

Stoddard allowed three home runs in 60 innings last year, and he walked 37 batters. Williams despised walks. Consequently, Stoddard rarely got a pat on the back from his former manager.

However, Cubs’ Manager Jim Frey could empathize with Williams. Frey remembers the time Stoddard walked four straight batters against St. Louis during the summer of 1984. Stoddard was never the same thereafter, Frey said, and Stoddard was used less frequently during the season’s second half.

“As big as he is, he probably needs a lot of work to stay sharp,” Frey said. “But that’s like the chicken or the egg question. A pitcher says he needs more work, and you tell him he has to do well to get more work. It’s not that I forgot about him the second half of the (1984) season. He wasn’t getting the ball over, so I tried other people.”

Trying times in the second half of the past two seasons have amounted to the worst of times for Stoddard. According to Smith, part of Stoddard’s second-half downfalls may be attributed to a sensitive side Stoddard attempts to hide.

“The one thing people look at with Timmy and I is our size,” Smith said. “They think that because you have a big frame, you’re not sensitive. Timmy Stoddard might be a sensitive person.”

Said Billy Connors, Cubs pitching coach: “Timmy is the kind of guy you have to be close to. When you get on him too much, he tends to push back. He’s the type you have to communicate with. When he starts worrying so much, he has problems.”

Connors’ analysis is the opposite of the way Stoddard was handled last year.

“I don’t think Tim was happy with his performance last year and the way he didn’t get a chance at times,” said Padre relief pitcher Craig Lefferts. “He probably wasn’t happy with a lot of things. He knows this is a new season, and he believes he’ll do well again. He has kept a good attitude about things.”

Padre fans did not have a good attitude toward Stoddard at times in 1985, often referring to him as Kerosene Can (bring him in and watch the opponents catch fire.)

“The fans love you when you are good and hate you when you are bad,” Stoddard said. “It comes with the territory. They didn’t bother me.”

From the manager’s office, there is a new approach toward Stoddard this spring.

“I have to figure out a way to get him out there,” Boros said. “He’s a big kid who needs to pitch a lot or his mechanics won’t stay sharp. The only way he can be effective is if you use him a lot.”

However, if the Stoddard of 1985 reappears, Boros must consider the chicken or egg theory--as it applies to relief pitchers.

‘I can still pitch, otherwise the Padres wouldn’t have signed me for three years. I had a bad year last year. I came here as a free agent and everybody was on me. There are a lot of things you can blame last year on. It’s over, and there’s no sense rehashing it.’--Tim Stoddard