He’s New Man in Charge of Chargers : Pro football: General Manager Bobby Beathard, who runs marathons and surfs, marches to a different beat.

It’s a hotel maid’s nightmare. Strewn about the unkempt bed are three newspapers, each opened to the sports section, a tattered flight guide, airline tickets and reading glasses. A suitcase lies open on the couch. The floor is littered with shorts, a T-shirt, running shoes and a damp towel.

There, in the middle of the mess, with one pillow tucked between his feet, another underneath his left side and the telephone an arm’s length away, is Bobby Beathard.

Beathard, who in the past two weeks has been to Washington, Chicago, San Diego, Cleveland, Denver, Honolulu, Los Angeles, back to Denver, Mobile, Ala., and Palo Alto, rubs his eyes, yawns and says:

“Man, I’m really beat. All of this travel, I think, has finally caught up to me. I’m so out of shape right now, I couldn’t even run a marathon if I had to. You know, I wouldn’t even enter one because I’d be afraid I’d drop out.

“I’m only running about 45 miles a week now. I should be running 65 miles. Look at me. I normally weigh the same as I did in high school, 165, but you know, I bet I weigh 169 right now. Gosh, maybe 170. I can really tell the difference.”

Beathard, a vegetarian, chastises himself for the extra bran muffin he ate earlier in the day, vowing to be back in shape by March, running 12 miles a day, surfing the waves of Leucadia, riding his bicycle through the hills of Encinitas and La Costa and swimming laps in the Pacific Ocean.

This is a guy who talks as if he’s representing the U.S. Olympic team, dresses as if he just stepped out of class at San Diego State and has more fun than the boys in the local fraternity house.

Which is more frightening, you might ask: the fact that he will turn 53 years old Wednesday or the idea that he’ll be running the Charger football operations, sitting behind his desk as general manager for the first time this morning?

“That town better brace itself and get ready for Bobby,” said Ted Grossman, Beathard’s best friend, who makes his living as a Hollywood stunt man. “I’m telling you right now, there’s no one like him. No one.”

Just what do you mean?

“Well, let me put it to you this way,” Grossman said, laughing mischievously. “I get a call late at night a few weeks ago, and it’s Bobby. Remember, this is right in the middle of when he was signing with the Chargers, he’s still working for NBC, the playoffs are going on, and he’s traveling back and forth across the country .

“So the first thing he tells me is how happy he is. I figure something great happened with the Chargers or something great happened with the family, you know, something real big.

“Well, he tells me how Christine, his wife, just bought him this new surfboard. I’m serious. He goes on and on about it. He’s telling the length of it, the color of it, everything.

“I mean, it was unbelievable. All of this stuff is happening in his life at once, and he’s going nuts about some surfboard.

“But, you know, that’s Bobby.”

It was during training camp in 1978, six months after he became general manager of the Washington Redskins, that Beathard and Christine Van Handel, his second wife, got married.

The wedding took place at a mutual friend’s house in Marina del Rey. There was a delay until Christine walked upstairs where the men were watching an exhibition game between the Rams and Raiders, and said, “Bobby, shouldn’t we start?”

Bobby: “We’re watching the game, can’t we wait until halftime?”

Halftime arrived. Beathard rushed downstairs. Before the first beer commercial, he was back upstairs with his buddies watching the game.

“It was the fastest wedding I’ve ever seen,” Grossman says. “It was faster than Ben Johnson on steroids. I mean, I was just turning around when Bobby already is putting the ring on Christine’s finger. The next thing I know, it’s over, and we’re going back upstairs to watch the game.

“I remember Christine saying, ‘Is this the way it’s always going to be?’

“Bobby said, ‘I’m afraid so.’ ”

Yes, in the staunch, conservative world of the NFL, where many of the game’s administrators are balding, cigar-smoking, overweight men, there is Bobby.

Not Bob. Not Robert. And certainly not Mr. Beathard.

Just Bobby.

Few in this game have matched his success, winning four Super Bowls and guiding his team into two others during stays in Miami and Washington. And none, perhaps, are as unpretentious.

After all, when you see a man wearing shorts and running shoes for everyday dress, and light-colored slacks, a polo shirt and top-siders for formal wear, you don’t exactly picture an NFL general manager.

Beathard doesn’t even pack a sports jacket on road trips. Once when he realized it was a necessity that he have one, he stopped off at an airport gift shop and bought the first one off the rack that fit him.

Redskins owner Jack Kent Cooke said he was warned of Beathard’s casual dress when he interviewed him for the general manager’s job in 1978.

Beathard: “I’ve got to tell you something, I work hard, but I don’t go to social engagements, and I don’t wear a coat and tie.”

Cooke: “Bobby, I don’t care if you work in a jockstrap as long as you win.”

And, oh, how Beathard won. There’s enough gold and diamonds on the four Super Bowl championship rings he owns to make Mr. T envious.

But not once has Beathard worn any of them. Sure, each represents a great achievement, but they’re too gaudy for Beathard’s taste.

So, while the rest of the NFL would give just about anything to earn one of these sacred Super Bowl rings, guess how Beathard regards his symbolic treasures.

“There was a day when I was at Bobby’s house, and I cut my finger,” Grossman said, “and I asked Bobby where I could find a Band-Aid. He tells me to look in the medicine cabinet below the sink. I pull out the Band-Aid box, and I can’t believe it, there’s a Super Bowl ring.

“I say to Bobby, ‘What the hell’s your Super Bowl ring doing down here?’ He says, ‘Oh, I was wondering where that thing went.’

“Can you imagine? People bust their asses for these Super Bowl rings, and there’s Bobby keeping his behind a damn Band-Aid box.”

Yes, that’s Bobby.

He’s fiercely competitive, whether he’s running, surfing, cycling or running a football team. He strives to be the best in anything he does but couldn’t care less about the accolades and prizes that accompany success. He’s still annoyed at Sports Illustrated for calling him “The Smartest Man in the NFL.” Fact is, his most prized treasures are the T-shirts he has received from the 38 marathons in which he has run.

It angers him that his right hamstring flares up from time to time, preventing him from training for marathons the way he desires. He consistently runs under three hours for the 26.2 miles but would sure like to lower his personal best of 2:46:11. Oh well, he says, that’s what he gets for running those three marathons and a half-marathon in five weekends a few years ago, causing the initial hamstring damage.

Dick Daniels, Redskin director of player personnel (league sources say he will take the same job with the Chargers when his contract expires in June), said: “I remember when it all started. We used to run together in the morning at Miami, just a couple of miles each day through the zoo, and then one day he got this wild look in his eye and said, ‘I’m going to run over to the causeway.’ I said, ‘Bobby, that’s eight miles.’ He took off anyway, and he’s been running like that ever since.

“Even now when I run with him, I say, ‘OK, now, Bobby, let’s go slow.’ He says, ‘OK, OK.’ Well, before you know it, he’s taken off, and I’m turning back.”

Beathard’s buddies still like to talk about the time during the mid-’70s when they were sitting in a Manhattan Beach bar, and word started traveling that this All-American community college quarter-miler could beat Beathard in a four-mile race.

Well, one thing led to another, and before anyone knew it, bets were placed, and Beathard was on the track in his bare feet ready to go.

“The race is about to start,” Grossman said, “and then Bobby lets me know he hardly got any sleep from the scouting trip he just finished. I said, ‘Oh, man, don’t tell me that. I just bet 100 bucks on you.’ And these were the days I didn’t have two nickels to rub together. I’m really panicking now.

“Well, it’s neck-to-neck the whole way. This guy’s right on Bobby’s heels the entire time, and with about 200 yards to go, Bobby turns on the hydroplanes. He sprints toward the finish line, and the other guy stops like he’s running in place and keels over.

“Bobby’s still running, and this guy’s eyes are rolling in the back of his head. He’s foaming at the mouth. . . . I thought, ‘Oh my God, Bobby just killed this guy.’

“We called the paramedics and everything.

“The guy got out of the hospital three days later.”

Now, Beathard has been challenged again, and some say this is his greatest obstacle yet.

The Chargers have not been in the playoffs since 1982.

They have lost 28 of their past 40 games.

Beathard has heard the whispers. He has listened to the warnings. He has received all of the advice.

Don’t take the Charger job, they told him. You don’t want to work for that meddlesome Charger owner, Alex Spanos. It’s a dead-end job that ultimately results in a firing, usually around the Christmas holidays.

“I’m going into this thing with my eyes wide open,” Beathard said, “but you know something, I have a real good feeling about Spanos.

“I know there has been a lot of stuff written and a lot of shots taken at him. But I’ve met him, and personally, I think he’s a hell of a guy. I’m not just saying that so it looks good. I’ve been with him enough to know that he can laugh at himself, he has a great sense of humor, and there’s genuinely a nice part of this guy.

“I think things are going to be fun again.”

Beathard has already moved to improve a strained relationship between the Charger front office and the media. Practices will again be open, after Coach Dan Henning closed them for the season last fall.

And Beathard’s arrival also has caused visions of grandeur in San Diego.

After all, didn’t Cooke offer Beathard a huge raise to prevent him from leaving the Redskins last May? And didn’t the New York Jets and Detroit Lions offer him lucrative contracts to take over their struggling programs? And, hey, didn’t NBC even step forward and try their best to convince Beathard to stay with the network?

“Everyone knows what Bobby Beathard will mean to San Diego,” said George Young, general manager of the New York Giants. “This is a guy who’s 52 going on 22. He’s got more energy than anyone in the business.

“I thought all along that San Diego was a sleeping giant anyway, but now with Bobby there, well, let’s just say I’m glad we don’t play the AFC West for another three years.

“It won’t surprise me one bit to see that team in the playoffs this year.”

Beathard has been sought by Spanos since 1986, but when Beathard informed him that he was going to remain with the Redskins, Spanos tried the next-best thing: He asked for Beathard’s recommendation.

Beathard recommended Steve Ortmayer of the Raiders. Spanos hired him on Jan. 27, 1987. He fired him on Dec. 18, 1989.

Actually, sources close to Spanos said, the decision to fire Ortmayer was made before the season. When Beathard quit the Redskins on May 5, after a growing rift between him and Coach Joe Gibbs had become intolerable, Spanos immediately called. They had several telephone conversations, and sources said that Spanos even sent him a contract proposal.

Beathard felt awkward because of his relationship with Ortmayer, and besides, he wanted to step away from the game for a few months. NBC called Beathard in July to work on pregame and halftime features, and Beathard figured this was the perfect opportunity to stay close to the game without being directly involved.

Oh, he always knew that he would be back in the NFL for the 1990 season--why else was he gone three days every week scouting?--but he wasn’t sure where.

By early December, offers starting rolling in, according to sources close to Beathard. The Jets offered him a job. So did the Lions. Each wanted him before the end of the season.

Now it was time to see if Spanos’ interest still remained. Spanos assured him that it was. Beathard also was told he’d have a free hand running the team.

Meanwhile, Ortmayer heard the rumors that Beathard was coming in, and after the Chargers’ victory over the Kansas City Chiefs, he decided to travel to Stockton to find out the truth from Spanos. Ortmayer left that afternoon unemployed.

“It’s an awkward situation because Steve and I are friends,” Beathard said, “well, I hope we’re still friends. I’ve left a couple messages on his answering machine, but he hasn’t called back.

“This game is all based on performance. Who knows? Someday someone might come in here and take my place.”

The muddy parking lot at Stanford Stadium is filled with a crowd of hundreds waiting for players to arrive for practice of the East-West Shrine game. There are scouts, coaches, friends and agents. Lots of agents.

Beathard glares at the agents in their dark Italian suits, acting like piranhas in an aquarium filled with guppies. It makes Beathard sick. Oh, some of his dear friends happen to be agents. But too many, he says, are ruining this precious game of football.

What happened to the days when guys just wanted to play good, old-fashioned football and didn’t worry about their contracts until they established themselves in the league. It has gotten to a point now, he says, that he has to act as an amateur psychologist when talking to players and determining their motivation.

Sometimes, Beathard just makes it simple on himself. There are four agents whose clients Beathard will not draft, no matter how talented they are.

“So much goes into the equation nowadays,” Beathard says. “Who’s the guy who represents him? What kind of influence will his agent have on him? What influence is money going to have? Is he going to be satisfied, once he gets his large signing bonus, thinking, ‘I got my money, I got my new car,’ and not bust his butt to make the team.’

“If you find out how a player is going to think, you’re a step ahead. It’s too bad the system is the way it is, it’s upside down. The untested people get the money, and the other ones, the guys who have done it, are sitting there wondering why the untested guys are making more.

“Why should Deion Sanders (of Atlanta) be the highest-paid defensive back in football. That’s totally unfair. And when they see the way he’s playing, it really affects people. Because this guy does not play the game like his ability would enable him to play the game.

“You can’t compare Barry Sanders (of Detroit) and Deion Sanders. Barry Sanders is going out there and laying it on the line. He’s playing harder than anybody, and that rubs off on his teammates.

“Deion hasn’t done that. I don’t know if he’ll ever do it.”

Beathard’s ability to judge people always has separated him from the rest of the pack. How else was he able to have 26 free agents, and 11 players drafted in the fifth round or lower, on his 1983 Super Bowl team?

“He’s totally unafraid of taking chances,” said Dick Steinberg, the Jets’ general manager. “The typical approach in the NFL is go slow, be conservative, be careful when you make trades. If your trades go bad, you look bad.

“Bobby could care less. He goes full speed and never looks back. I don’t think he looks back on anything he does.”

Well, except for that one little incident this past summer.

Beathard, spending the summer at his three-year-old Leucadia home that overlooks the beach, decided to compete in the World Body Surfing Championships at the Oceanside Pier. He never before had participated in a body-surfing contest and figured this was as good a time as any.

Well, Beathard breezed through the preliminaries and suddenly found himself in the finals of his age group. The top two qualifiers advanced to the World Finals.

This is great, Beathard thought, and he mapped out a strategy to guarantee a top-two finish. The rules are that you must catch at least four waves in a 12-minute period, and judges will score your best four rides.

What transpired still irritates Beathard every time he thinks about it.

Let him tell the story:

“There’s one guy who had more points than me going to the finals, a guy named ‘Boom-Boom Beach.’ I thought this is the guy I have to beat, and I knew I could compete with him.

“But what happens is that because there were a few big swells coming in, Boom-Boom goes way outside. I’m thinking that’s what I should do, too. So I go the exact opposite of my strategy of catching my four quick waves and go out to the big sets with Boom-Boom.

“This is unbelievable. Oh, God was I mad. We’re out there for seven minutes five seconds, and not one set comes. We’re the only two guys in the heat who hadn’t caught a wave yet.

“Now, we start swimming in and swimming in, and finally get some medium waves. We didn’t get our fourth wave until there were 11 seconds left, and we bombed out completely.

“We should have finished one-two in our heat and gone to the (world) finals, but instead I finish fifth and he finishes sixth. How embarrassing. I realize now the most important thing is to catch your four waves and then go out and gamble.”

So, uh, Bobby, you don’t go around and spread this story to your buddies in the NFL, do you?

“Hey, we’ve heard it all,” Young said. “We know all about his surfing, marathon running, and all those granola bars and sardines he eats.”

Pretty crazy stuff, huh? You imagine the people around the league get a pretty big kick out of telling Bobby Beathard stories around the office.

“No, to tell you the truth,” Young said, “I think we’re all pretty envious.”