ANOTHER EX-DODGER FINDS NICHE : DAVE STEWART : Pitcher’s Rocky Road Smoothed Out When He Returned Home to Oakland

Your newest inductee into the Ex-Dodger Hall of Fame once said: “At the top of my game, I could be the most dominating force in baseball”--and then had to beg for a major league tryout a year later.

This would be the same guy who couldn’t find happiness unless he tripped over it, who once punched a manager, screamed at another, found his way onto a police blotter. This would be Dave Stewart, back from more tribulations than you can shake a melodrama at.

At last look, Stewart, 30, had a 14-8 record for the Oakland Athletics, which no one expected this season, including Stewart. For someone who occasionally flirted with greatness during his days with the Dodgers and later with the Texas Rangers, Stewart began 1987 with thoroughly modest goals.

“I wanted to make between 35-39 starts and I wanted to win more games than last year,” he said.

Yes, well, he got victory No. 10, which eclipsed last season’s total, nearly a month and a half ago.

Since last July, in fact, Stewart has won more games than any other right-hander except Jack Morris of the Detroit Tigers. If you’re keeping score, it’s 24 to 23. And in a pleasing turnabout, Stewart’s name is now mentioned occasionally in the same sentence with another fair pitcher: Cy Young, as in award. A 3.64 earned-run average helps, as do 145 strikeouts in 165 innings.

“I’m just a little bit smarter now,” he said. “You can become smarter when you have the equipment to work with.”

What an odyssey: From phenom, to failure, to contentment. In all, 10 years of assorted mistakes and heartaches, enough to cause Stewart to reconsider his profession, or what was left of it a year ago.

Back then, after his release from the Philadelphia experiment--an ill-fated trade from the Rangers to the Phillies--Stewart went looking for employment. The Chicago White Sox were approached, but to this day, Stewart said he thinks Doug Rader, his manager at Texas and now a coach with the White Sox, nixed the potential deal. “He said that I could not help that club,” Stewart said.

OK, but what about the other teams that showed interest?

Turns out the Tigers and Toronto Blue Jays were curious but not enthralled. The Baltimore Orioles maybe could offer something in Charlotte, N.C., which is nice if you like Double-A ball.

Back in Anaheim, then-Angel Reggie Jackson suggested that the team sign Stewart. Manager Gene Mauch declined, saying he thought Stewart lacked consistency and another pitch to complement his fastball. And so it went.

“Sometimes in this game, you get a reputation,” Stewart said. “Sometimes, it’s deserving. Other times, it’s not deserving. My reputation had been passed along that I could not be consistent, that I could not win ballgames. I don’t think I deserved that.”

The more Stewart looked, the more he discovered that few teams regarded him as anything more than a wasted talent, another problem.

After his departure from Philadelphia in 1985, Stewart considered retirement. Baseball, this game that once had come so easily for him, now seemed too perplexing.

“I was thinking at the time I got released, ‘Maybe I’m not really sure this is worth all the trouble I’m going through.’ ”

In an act of semi-desperation, Stewart asked the Athletics for a tryout.

In a bit of a surprise, they said yes.

The A’s were preparing to put reliever Jay Howell on the disabled list. Keith Atherton, another reliever, had been traded to the Minnesota Twins. So when Stewart’s agent, Tony Attanasio, called once more to inquire about a workout for his client, the Athletics figured, why not?

“In all honesty, I can’t say our expectations were substantial, because they weren’t,” said Sandy Alderson, Oakland’s general manager. “We were looking for somebody who could get hot for us, that’s all.”

So there, in foul territory at Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium, Stewart auditioned for a job. The A’s needed pitching, sure. But did they need Stewart, labeled a troublemaker, a supposed washout at 29?

“We’ll get back to you,” the A’s said after the hastily arranged demonstration.

Said Alderson: “At that time, our staff . . . was not overly impressed. When you look at someone who was just released, you don’t conjure images of 20 wins. You try to see if they can help you. We told them, ‘Look, we’d like to sign him, but we can’t make any promises.’ ”

Three days later, Stewart signed a contract--no promises attached.

Here was the deal: Stewart would go to Tacoma and the team’s Triple-A affiliate, which beats the Southern League and Charlotte any day. Then he would pitch and wait. Pitch and wait, until Oakland needed him.

Less than a week later, the A’s called him up. “A very inauspicious debut,” Alderson said.

That would be Stewart’s appearance against the Cleveland Indians. On his first pitch, Brook Jacoby hit a three-run homer.

On July 7, 1986, when Tony LaRussa replaced Jackie Moore as manager, Stewart found himself in demand. LaRussa needed a starter. The A’s were playing the Boston Red Sox--Roger Clemens was pitching for Boston and the game was on national television--in Fenway Park. Stewart, who had been called up late in the spring to work out of the bullpen, was available.

And that was that. Stewart started, and with the help of two relievers, beat Boston and Clemens. “From that point on, he’s been great,” Alderson said. “He’s a super guy in spite of his press clippings.”

Said Stewart: “My role is written out for me. It’s simple: I start every fifth day.”

For years, Stewart had been asking for a simple role. In Los Angeles, he worked long, middle and short relief. As if the psyche of a reliever isn’t delicate enough, here were the Dodgers acting like fickle employers.

In Texas, he took turns as a reliever and starter.

In Philadelphia?

“I don’t even count even being part of their ballclub,” Stewart said. “I never had a chance to do anything. They just didn’t give me a chance.”

In bubble-gum card order:

DAVE IN DODGERLAND

Stewart still isn’t quite sure why the Dodgers traded him to the Rangers in 1983. In essence, he threw one pitch, a fastball that whizzed past hitters with considerable ease. You didn’t see Stewart’s best fastball as much as you heard it.

The problem was, the Dodgers didn’t know what to do with Stewart.

Was he best suited for long relief? Probably not. Fastballs tend to melt with each passing inning.

Middle relief? Possibly. Stewart had the stamina, but did he have the mentality?

Short relief? Probably. His fastball seemed that much better when shown only once.

The Dodgers tired of the daily quiz midway through the 1983 season and sent him to Texas for Rick Honeycutt. He left Los Angeles in typical fashion: surrounded by what-ifs.

What if the Dodgers had kept him strictly as a closer?

What if he had used the forkball more often, a pitch Sandy Koufax taught him?

What if Stewart never had befriended fellow reliever Steve Howe, going so far as to shield Howe when he snorted cocaine in the bullpen?

To this day, Stewart said the Dodgers may have acted prematurely, that he was worth the wait. His best stuff?

“Los Angeles had it,” he said. “When they traded me, I thought I was doing a very good job.”

RANGER DAVE

With Texas, Stewart won five of seven decisions. His earned-run average, if you include time spent with the Dodgers, was an impressive 2.60. For once, it looked as if the comical Rangers, famous for lopsided, ill-planned deals, might have done something right.

Then followed an array of disturbing on- and off-field escapades that overshadowed ERA and strikeout ratios.

See Stewart, the same guy who gladly devoted time to an anti-drug campaign, get arrested in a Los Angeles Skid Row alley for lewd conduct with a transvestite prostitute.

See Stewart, who was voted the Rangers’ “Good Guy Award” in 1984, lash out at an Arlington Stadium crowd after a poor performance. Then watch him apologize repeatedly for the remarks.

And see Stewart argue with Rader. On the pitcher’s mound. In the dugout. In the clubhouse.

Once, during an exhibition game, Stewart said that Rader charged out to the mound “telling me that my appearance on the mound wasn’t suitable to him.”

Apparently, Rader was displeased with Stewart’s choice of pitches. Rather than using his fastball to dispose of a batter, Stewart had tried an off-speed pitch.

“Afterward, we went in behind closed doors,” Stewart said. “(Rader) told me that I wasn’t the person he thought I was. I think he did it because that’s the only way he knows how to deal with people. He wasn’t understanding. There was only one way: his way. If you couldn’t understand his way, he’d downgrade you.”

Rader could not be reached for comment.

Rader and Stewart still see each other, even are cordial on those occasions.

“He says hello,” Stewart said. “He’s friendly. He’s always been friendly. From my side of the bench looking at his side of the bench, he’s a great guy. I just wouldn’t want to ever play for him again.”

The Rangers fired Rader May 16, 1985, and replaced him with Bobby Valentine. That’s when Stewart said that if he had his choice, he’d like to spend the rest of his career with Texas. That was in late May. By September, Stewart had been traded to the Phillies.

“When I left Texas, I was really glad to be leaving,” he said. “And they were glad to get rid of me.”

PHILLY DAVE

Why bother reliving Philadelphia, Stewart asked. He went there with four loose bone chips in his pitching elbow, which pretty much ruined any chances of making a good first impression.

Then in spring training of 1986, Stewart found relievers Tom Hume and Steve Bedrosian on the roster.

“That’s when they told me I would be considered for a starting spot,” he said. “It never happened.”

The Phillies released Stewart. He left after only 4 innings of work and a 6.23 ERA.

“It kind of hurt because they had lied to me,” he said. “I didn’t really get a chance.”

Three teams and counting.

BACK HOME AGAIN Here, in his hometown, Stewart has thrived. His reasons:

--He found religion.

--He perfected his forkball.

--He trusts LaRussa and pitching coach Dave Duncan.

And for a change, he trusts himself.

“I’ve always been happy away from the park,” he said. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve been happy at the park.”

And to think, it only took two trades, tirades and a release. A charmed life--finally.