Jefferson Ready, Willing and Able to Dump Slump

And so the Padres came home from their less-than-triumphant opening trip with a mere one win in six tries.

The multitudes moaned that here was 1987 all over again.

“It’s so early,” said Stanley Jefferson, the 25-year-old center fielder. “I’d be bothered a bit if this was midseason, but we have over 150 games yet.”

Jefferson, however, was not talking about the team, not that he doesn’t care. If anything, he cares too much. He was addressing his personal slump, which makes the team’s first six games look like a mere flicker of a strobe light.

You see, Jefferson came home 1 for 47. That’s right, 1 hit in his last 47 at-bats dating back to last September. What’s more, the 1988 season started with an 0 for 16 in Houston and San Francisco.

That is a deep trench. Death Valley would be looking up to what Jefferson has gone through.

A fellow going through such a dismal stretch would figure to be in a rather surly frame of mind. But the guy cursing and throwing a bat against the back wall of the dugout was not Stan Jefferson. It was Tony Gwynn, of all people, albeit the profanity was milder than conversations in junior high school restrooms.

Stanley Jefferson?

He was going about his business in a most businesslike manner. He took extra hitting, shagged some fly balls and then hit with the regulars.

“That’s it,” batting coach Amos Otis said. “Good swing.”

“I’ve just gotta keep the rhythm,” Jefferson said.

It’s there.

“My luck,” he mused, “hasn’t been as good as my rhythm.”

Luck actually started deserting him just before the 1987 season, when he was ready to begin his first season in San Diego. He had come from the New York Mets in the Kevin McReynolds deal, and he was ready to show that he could contribute as much in his way as McReynolds contributed in his.

Unlike McReynolds, Jefferson is not a power hitter. His game is speed. He was to be the leadoff man the Padres had not had since Alan Wiggins’ drug problems prompted a trade. Jefferson would hit .300 by bunting .150 and batting .150. He would be Mr. Electricity.

However, an ankle injury in the final week of spring training cut the voltage. He was no sooner back from that injury than he was out again with a shoulder injury.

The injuries limited him to 116 games and a .230 batting average, and undoubtedly contributed to the late-season tailspin that overlaps with this year’s 0-for-16 beginning.

“I was a total wreck,” he said, “and I probably shouldn’t have been out there. But I thought I could do it banged up. I couldn’t.”

When he came to spring training this year and hit .307 with a .358 on-base percentage, no one was surprised. The Padres had an appointment with this Stanley Jefferson. He was just a year late.

“I think his adrenaline started flowing a little too much the last couple of days in Palm Springs,” Otis said. “He started pressing a little bit, and it messed up his mechanics. I’d be worried if Stanley couldn’t hit, but Stanley has the ability and he will hit. He will be our spark plug.”

Indeed, the Padres’ stumbling start can be attributed more to Jefferson’s slow start than to any deep-seated problems.

The problem is that he knows it.

“The only thing that’s upsetting,” he said, “is that I haven’t gotten on base. Even when I’m not hitting, I still have to get on base with a walk or an error or something. I have to find some way to get on.”

In essence, the engine won’t go without the spark plug.

Gwynn, for example, came home with a .174 average. Watch his batting average take a volcanic uplift when Jefferson starts getting on base.

“Stanley sets the tempo for Tony,” Otis said. “Pitchers can’t fool around with off-speed pitches when there’s a guy on base capable of stealing 90 bases.”

Jefferson’s immediate task is to find some way to get on base in the first place. He tried beating the ball into the turf in Candlestick, just as he has always been urged to do, but the deep grass gobbled up maybe a half-dozen hits, at least in Manager Larry Bowa’s estimation.

Bowa clashed with Jefferson on one celebrated occasion last year, but he is sympathetic to the young man’s plight thus far in 1988.

“When Stanley doesn’t hit,” Bowa said, “he feels like he’s failing everybody. When you’re batting at the top of the lineup, it’s magnified.”

Actually, a 1-for-47 slump is hard to hide anywhere. The key, though, is that Jefferson is not hiding from it.

“I’m staying in the right mental frame of mind,” he said. “I just have to stay sharp and hit line drives or ground balls. Just make contact. The ball’s gonna find a hole eventually.”

“Just remember,” Otis said, “that the law of averages evens out.”

Of course, Stanley Jefferson has an idea when he would like to see that happen.

“Maybe tonight,” he said. “I hope.”