For Joyner and Brock, One Gemini’s Star Is Rising, Other’s Is Not

They both came out of the wilderness to the big city and the big leagues when they were nothing more than big kids.

Older men who wore shiny suits and smoked big cigars told wondrous tales of these two young men. Each, when he arrived, caused a great deal of excitement among those to whom baseball is more than just a sport.

These kids would be heroes. They had to be. Heroes were needed.

One hasn’t become a hero, so far. The other has, so far.

Their respective stories tell you something about baseball and life. Mostly what they tell you is what Chuck Berry told you 20 years ago: “ C’est la vie , say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell.”

The Dodger, Greg Brock, came to L.A. by way of a tiny town in Oregon, a big college in Wyoming where he was a second-team All-American, four years in the bush leagues and an electrifying winter in Venezuela, where his home runs had a Bob Beamon quality.

The Angel, Wally Joyner, came to Anaheim by way of a tiny town in Georgia, a big college in Utah where he was a second-team All-American, three years in the bush leagues and an electrifying winter in Puerto Rico, where he hit home runs onto neighboring islands.

The Dodger is tall and strong, blond, baby-faced, soft-spoken, modest, married. So is the Angel.

The Angel is a Gemini, born in mid-June; a left-handed hitter and a smooth fielder. So is the Dodger. The Dodger was a symbol of his team’s youth movement, the wave of the future. So was the Angel.

The Dodger pushed a legend out the door. So did the Angel. These kids were too hot to hold down any longer. Brock moved Steve Garvey to San Diego. Joyner moved Rod Carew to retirement. Before he broke into the lineup, the Dodger was referred to by the team’s top scout as the best left-handed power-hitting Dodger prospect since Duke Snider. Then the scout corrected that quote to read “ including Duke Snider.”

Before he took his first official big league swing, the Angel inspired his hard-shelled manager to say: “The minute I saw him, I knew it was there. He can play. He can play.”

The Dodger would surely be the first home team player ever to hit a ball out of Dodger Stadium, they said. The Angel hit so well in spring training that a veteran teammate said, “He’s got a magic wand.”

The Angel and the Dodger were legends before their own times.

When they stepped into batting cages, players on both teams stopped what they were doing to watch.

But the Dodger and the Angel took different paths.

The Dodger arrived in 1982, at the age of 26. His team is still waiting for him to unload 35 homers, or hit one out of the Stadium. He did hit 21 home runs last season, but Duke Snider would do that by the All-Star break. And this is the kid who hit 44 dingers his last season in the minors.

The Angel arrived in 1986, at the age of 23. He started hitting home runs immediately, 14 by midseason. And this is the kid who averaged nine homers a year in the minors.

The Dodger never really got on track. Early on, opposing teams’ scouts started talking about holes in his swing. In many ways, his big league career has been a nightmare. Injuries, salary disputes, a demotion to the minors, hurt feelings over insults by the team brass. He never could understand the shortage of respect and patience from management and fans.

The Angel never really slumped. The pitchers will get him the second time around the league, some scouts said. But the pitchers didn’t, not the second time around or the third. In many ways, his brief big league career has been a dream.

The Angel has 22 homers and 92 RBIs, and a .295 average. The Dodger, in only half as many at-bats, because of injuries and platooning, has 15 homers, 50 RBIs and a .235 average.

In Los Angeles, there is talk of the Dodgers unloading Brock, and he has said: “It might be better for me to get out of here.”

In Anaheim, there is talk of Joyner having a shot at the American League MVP award.

In Los Angeles, the Dodger has become a symbol of the team’s frustration and disappointment. The kids are breaking down. Marshall, Duncan, Pena. . . .

In Anaheim, the Angel has become a symbol of the team’s future. The kids are coming through. Schofield, McCaskill, Pettis. . . .

The Dodger kid still seems like a kid, in a way, because they’re still waiting for him to live up to the enormous expectations. The Angel kid seems hardly a kid anymore, because he’s done it. He has shown he can play.

Who knows why the Dodger and the Angel, so similar they could almost pass as twin brothers, have found such different paths?

In astrology, dating back to Greek mythology, the sign of Gemini is represented by twin brothers, Castor and Pollux. The twins are in turn represented in the heavens by two stars, also named Castor and Pollux. Even though they are twin stars, one shines brighter.