HE’S FUNNY AND HE CAN PITCH : Buice Gives Angels Some Comic Relief

DeWayne Buice, who does the best Maxwell Smart in the major leagues, is a crack right-handed relief ace who has taken the American League by storm at 22 with a heat-seeking fastball that can melt speed guns at 30 paces.

Would you believe a fairly reliable 25-year-old setup man who can baffle opposing hitters with a savvy mix of sliders, knucklers and split-fingered fastballs?

Would you believe a scrawny 29-year-old rookie who spent a decade in the minors, broke his arm twice in two years, salvaged his career in the Mexican League and, finally, made it to the majors with a fastball that couldn’t beat Roger Clemens’ changeup to the plate?

If you do believe that last one, which is the DeWayne Buice story, you will better understand why Buice sometimes walks around the clubhouse with baseballs stuffed inside his jersey and pants legs.

Or entertains the Angel bullpen with his sensitive and moving portrayal of the Munchkins in “The Wizard of Oz.”

Or runs laps in the outfield chirping, “Sorry about that, Chief” and “Right, 99.”

You don’t make it through 10 years of bad towns, bad food, bad bus trips, bad ballparks and bad breaks without a good sense of humor.

“You can’t take yourself too seriously, especially when you’re staying at the Beaumont Ramada Inn and playing in towns you didn’t know existed,” says Buice, the Angels’ oldest rookie.

Name a town and Buice has probably played there:

--Midland, Tex.: “The weather stinks,” Buice says. “It’s flat as the eye can see and the wind blows and blows and blows. The balls fly out of there. It’s like a launching pad, much worse than the Metrodome.”

--Montclova, Mexico: “The worst place in the world. It’s a steel town, out in the desert, and it’s about 199 degrees there every day. The smog from the steel factory rolls in, which makes it great to play in, and the ballpark used to have sand in the outfield. Since then, I hear they’ve planted grass. I don’t know if it grew, but they did plant it.”

--Nuevo Laredo, Mexico: “It’s south of Laredo, Tex., and I used to live in Laredo and drive to the games. I’d shower and dress in the hotel--I wasn’t about to test the water down there. After games, I’d drive back in my uniform. The border guards knew my name. Each night, they’d ask me if we won or lost.”

Nuevo Laredo was where Buice--pronounced Bice --resuscitated a career that was in traction after he broke his elbow in 1982 and again in ’83. At the time, he was pitching in triple-A for the Oakland organization but after the second break, the A’s released him.

“After the second break, everybody was a little afraid to take a chance,” Buice said. “Not too many people want to hire somebody who broke his arm two years in a row.”

Only Cleveland came calling. And all the Indians had to offer was a double-A contract.

“Like an idiot, I turned it down,” Buice said. “Fool’s pride. After that, I couldn’t get a job in the States for two years.”

It was off to Mexico and Nuevo Laredo. Buice pitched there for two seasons. But he left with his credibility as a pitching prospect restored.

He also left with more tales to regale his colleagues in the Angel bullpen.

“The fans are a little wild in Mexico,” Buice said. “The Latin-blooded are very emotional people. They’d bet on anything --they’d bet on pitches, ball or strike. Fights would break out in the stands. Some of the parks would have armed guards in the dugouts. In Mexico City, there were two armed guards in each dugout.

“In between innings, kids would run onto the field to get autographs. They thought nothing of it. It’d take 10 minutes between innings. The games would last forever.”

At the drop of a baseball cap, Buice can twist his voice and launch into impersonations of Rodney Dangerfield, Rev. Jim from “Taxi” and Bullwinkle the Moose. But two years ago in Nuevo Laredo, Buice pulled off the best impression of his baseball career.

He impressed the Angels enough to offer him a contract.

The Angels signed him in the winter of ’85 and assigned him to Midland. He saved 14 games there last season and was promoted to Edmonton, where he finished the summer with a 2-1 record and a 0.73 earned-run average.

Those numbers, plus his selection as Most Valuable Player of the winter Venezuelan championship series, earned Buice an invitation to the Angels’ major league training camp in Mesa, Ariz.Preston Gomez, the Angels’ assistant general manager, scouted Buice and returned with plaudits and praise.

Then came the spring games. Buice, weary from nearly a full year of pitching without a break, arrived with a tired fastball and spotty control. During most of his early outings, he was hit hard. When he wasn’t, he was wild.

“I keep waiting to see what Preston and everybody else said they saw,” Angel Manager Gene Mauch said time after time.

Buice couldn’t argue with that appraisal.

“He was right,” Buice said. “I was waiting to show it myself. My mechanics were all screwed up. I wasn’t throwing the ball, I was starting to aim it. I wasn’t getting proper extension on my arm.

“Finally, I went to Joe Coleman (the Angels’ minor league pitching instructor) and said, ‘What the hell am I doing wrong?’ We went to the sidelines and got it figured out in about five minutes.”

But by then, it was too late. The Freeway Series was upon the Angels and Mauch had pretty much settled on his pitching staff. Still, Buice closed with three strong outings and was on the roster the day before the season opener.

But on that day, Mauch had to cut two pitchers. Buice was one of them.

Missed it by . . . that much.

Buice, however, was in no mood for light humor. He could barely look the prospect of an 11th minor-league season in the face.

“This team better have some pretty damn good pitchers to keep me off the staff,” Buice snapped. “I’ll be back. Soon.”

He was right. On April 22, the Angels put Kirk McCaskill on the disabled list and replaced him with Buice.

Looking back, Buice admitted, “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But that was the way I felt. I was upset. You try to prove yourself your whole life and it happens again. It made me start thinking. Now, I can only thank Gene Mauch and the Angels for the opportunity. Gene gave me a chance when nobody else would. I’m forever in his debt. I’ve been waiting for this a long time.”

What could possibly drive a man to wait 10 years--spending four of them in Class A, where he never made more than $700 a month? What kept him going through two broken arms and two seasons of oblivion in the Mexican League?

“This right here kept me going,” Buice said, pointing at the locker room floor. “I have friends who have been here. I got people out who made it here. That’s what kept me going. I love this game.”

Enough, he said, to pitch for two weeks in Tacoma with a broken arm in 1983.

“My manager at the time, Bob Didier, was telling me that the A’s were going to bring me up,” Buice said. “I was 5-0, pitching well, and I was close .

“So I loaded up on aspirin and pitched until I couldn’t stand the pain. My fastball went from the upper 80s to the mid-50s in two weeks. Every time I threw the ball, there were tears in my eyes.”

Buice first broke the arm while striking out Greg Brock, then with Albuquerque, in 1982. “He walked off and went to first base,” Buice recalled. “And I walked off and went to the trainer’s room.”

The second break was the more severe.

“I really snapped it in ‘83,” Buice said. “My third baseman, John Hotchkiss, heard it break. As soon as it happened, he came over the mound and said, ‘You OK?’ I said, ‘Yeah, I guess so.’ I didn’t want to say anything. I was going to the big leagues.

“Finally, I asked him, ‘Did you hear that?’ John said, ‘Yeah. It sounded like someone breaking a broomstick over his knee.’ ”

Buice wound up with his arm in a cast for three months. He didn’t pick up a baseball for seven. Doctors considered inserting a screw to keep the bones together.

“I really was afraid it was over,” Buice said.

After nearly a year’s rehabilitation, Buice resumed the quest in Nuevo Laredo. Two years after that, he made the breakthrough to the big leagues.

Would you believe it?

“I’m getting to live the dream of everybody who’s every picked up a bat or a glove,” Buice said. “Everybody has visions of being a major leaguer. This is what I wanted.

“And I worked hard for it. I don’t want to think about the numbers of players I went through to make it.”

Since making it, Buice has made an impact on the Angel pitching staff. With Donnie Moore’s availability limited because of a rib-cage injury, Buice has emerged as a late-inning stopper. In eight appearances, he is 1-1 with a 3.57 ERA and has saved two of the Angels last four victories.

And in less than a month, Buice’s wit has helped make the Angels’ clubhouse a better place.

A few outtakes:

--On his reputation as a finesse pitcher: “My fastball’s a change-up.”

--On his first major-league strikeout: “I wanted to keep the ball, but when I got it back, I noticed there was a cut on the ball. I wasn’t about to throw it out of the game. I didn’t do the cutting, but, since it was there . . . I also struck out the second hitter with it.”

--On the cramped dressing quarters in Tiger Stadium: “I can’t believe how small the lockers are in some of these older parks. Were people smaller back then?”

--On the Metrodome: “It looks like the inside of the Goodyear blimp.”

--On pitching in front of a select few after two rain delays at Tiger Stadium: “I used to play in front of crowds bigger than this in Fresno. With that few people in the stands, you can hear them breathing.”

--On his minor-league days: “I got so sick of Denny’s. You can only eat so many hamburgers. I got into the braised sirloin tips. That was in the pre-all-you-can-eat-shrimp days.”