‘They’re Going to Go’ : Padres: Jack Clark has the feeling he might be ready to send a lot of baseballs out of sight this season. If he’s right, his team’s competition in the NL West likely will disappear, too.

Jack Clark has been in this game 13 seasons, played for 10 different managers and four different organizations.

He has been an All-Star; he has been a bum.

He has been the town hero; he has been ridiculed by entire cities.

“I figured there was nothing left, you know,” Clark said, “that I already hadn’t been through before.”

He never imagined something like this.

It terrified him, frightened his family and closest friends and left him wondering for the first time if he still wanted to play this silly game.

Few ever knew the pain and torment that Clark endured daily last season. Never did he publicly reveal his fears. Even his teammates were unaware of his anguish.

“I never let on what I was going through,” said Clark, the Padre first baseman, “and until now, I never really was able to discuss it. I mean, people knew I wasn’t happy, but no one knew just how miserable I was.

“The pain was just too much. I just couldn’t talk about it. But I’m telling you right now, I’ve never gone through a more miserable time in my life.”

Clark has gone through plenty of slumps in his career, and his portfolio is littered with injuries, but to go through six weeks of spring training and three months of the regular season without having a clue as to what he was doing at the plate was driving him absolutely wacky.

Tammy Clark remembers waking up in the middle of the night, taking a glance at her husband and seeing him wide awake, staring at the ceiling. The kids remember seeing their dad standing in front of a mirror, practicing his weight-shift with an imaginary bat. His parents remember the constant phone calls from friends and acquaintances, all offering suggestions on how Jack could end this slump.

“I was scraping the bottom of the barrel, and had such a bad taste in my mouth, that there were days when I just dreaded coming to the ballpark,” he said. “I was questioning myself. I was doubting myself. Really, I was just totally, utterly, disgusted with myself.

“I was even having friends calling me from high school, offering suggestions, that’s how bad it was. I totally had no concept of what I was doing at the plate, and even when I got a hit, I had no idea how it happened. I literally forgot how to hit. Eventually, I just started looking for a walk every time I came up, because I knew I wasn’t going to hit my way on.”

The situation was deteriorating to the point that he was convinced he’d be traded, maybe even given away. But then he thought, who in their right mind would pay $2 million a year to a guy who was hitting .219 with just nine homers through June, having already accumulated 90 strikeouts?

“They probably had no choice but to keep me,” Clark said, “with the way I was going. I’m sure my market value had hit the bottom of the barrel.

“I felt so bad because (Padre Manager) Jack (McKeon) did so much to bring me over from New York, and here I was, letting everyone down.”

The Padres were floundering. He was being booed the moment he left the on-deck circle for the walk to home plate. And instead of becoming infuriated, Clark was wondering if he was finished.

“I think we contributed to his problems, too,” McKeon said. “We put all the pressure on him. We just sat around waiting for him to hit a homer, and when he didn’t, we had absolutely nothing left to fall back on.”

Then one day, maybe it was on June 26, an idea suddenly struck. It seemed crazy, almost absurd. “But with the way I was hitting,” Clark said, “how much worse could I look?”

Clark reverted to the batting stance he had abandoned almost 10 years ago in San Francisco. He squared his shoulders. He stood a little closer to the plate. He held the bat higher.

“I knew I was giving up on what got me my most success,” Clark said, “but I had to give this a fair chance. Really, that’s how desperate I was.”

Slowly, it came along. He got two hits the night of June 27, and before he knew it, he had a 14-game hitting streak. He knew he had something special going, but the home runs had yet to become a part of his arsenal.

Beginning the night of July 18, they started coming. He launched 17 homers the remainder of the season, driving in 55 runs with a .269 batting average.

Jack the Ripper--the nickname bestowed upon him nine years ago by Vida Blue--was back.

The Padres haven’t been the same since.

They finished the 1989 season as the hottest team in baseball, winning 29 of their final 39 games.

They entered Saturday night’s game against the Seattle Mariners as the hottest team in all of spring training, winning 10 of their 12 games, including eight in a row.

They will enter the season Monday against the Dodgers as the prohibitive favorite to win the National League West for only the second time in their 21-year history.

Oh, this team has plenty of superstars. They have six All-Star players, one former MVP and eight who have played on World Series teams.

But this, all of a sudden, has become Clark’s team. There is no title, and there are plenty of veterans to shoulder the burden, but Clark has emerged as the team leader, the man to whom everyone must answer.

“I think that’s why it was eating him up so much last year,” said Padre catcher Mark Parent. “More than anything, he wanted to be the team leader. But when you’re struggling, you can’t do that. Nobody is going to listen.

“You should see him now. He’s not afraid to get on anybody. He’ll get on Eric Show, (Bruce) Hurst, Benny, (Benito Santiago), it doesn’t matter who they are.

“He’s our enforcer is what he is.”

It’s no coincidence this spring that Santiago is much more relaxed and has become outgoing in the clubhouse. It’s no coincidence that second baseman Roberto Alomar is keeping quiet about his talents, refusing to predict stardom as he has did a year ago. And it’s no coincidence that Mike Pagliarulo, Darrin Jackson, Phil Stephenson, Jerald Clark and Parent have accepted their backup roles this season without so much as hinting at disgust.

“Jack’s done a lot for me and for a whole lot of guys in here,” Santiago said. “I think the reason everything’s going so well now is because of him. He makes you understand things better.

“That’s why I think we’re such a better team.”

Clark’s influence on this team comes as no surprise to St. Louis Cardinal Manager Whitey Herzog. During Clark’s three-year stay in St. Louis, the Cardinals twice were in the World Series, and Clark twice was an All-Star.

“I don’t think there’s much doubt what he did for us,” Herzog said. “We haven’t been back to the World Series since, have we?”

Clark, who hit 26 homers and drove in 94 runs last year and has averaged 29 homers and 98 RBIs the past three seasons, remains perhaps the National League’s best-kept secret.

He’s not a glory seeker, starving for media coverage. You won’t see him hawking goods on the airwaves, and he actually refused to pursue endorsements after his pennant-winning home run against the Dodgers in 1985. He never involves himself in clubhouse pranks and likely would cold-cock anyone who dared put shaving cream in his cap.

Jack Anthony Clark was raised in the old school of baseball. Sweat, dirt and an honest day’s effort is Clark’s calling card. He’s not particularly smooth or diplomatic when it comes to interviews, but whoever said that was supposed to be a prerequisite for big league players, anyway?

When reporters clamor around him after games, wanting some fancy, concocted answers on how he was able to hit a ball 475 feet for a homer, the reply is simple:

“When I hit ‘em right, they’re going to go,” he says.

When his right ankle begins throbbing--caused by torn ligaments that never healed properly in 1987--and the pain is unbearable, Clark just tells Padre trainer Dick Dent to wrap the ankle a little tighter. There hasn’t been a day he hasn’t played in pain since being with the Padres, he said. But if the ankle is the reason he didn’t get over and make a play that should have been made, you’ll never hear it as an alibi.

When he learned that McKeon decided to use him in the cleanup spot and bat Joe Carter fifth, he wanted to talk to McKeon himself, not rejoice. He was making sure it was not a gesture to satisfy his ego. He couldn’t care less where he’s batting as long as he’s in the lineup.

People learn quickly about Clark: It’s not wise to mess with the man. Don’t come downstairs, wearing your suit and suspenders, trying to tell him how to act so that your corporate sponsors are happy. Don’t tell him what to say, because he’ll say whatever he damn well pleases. And don’t dare try to change the way he plays on the field.

Just give him a bat and glove, surround him with teammates whose main objective is winning and don’t care about their own statistics, weed out the prima donnas, and Clark will bring you home a winner.

In the past five years, Clark has played with three different teams, in two different leagues, in three regions of the country, but there has been one common denominator--winning.

Clark’s teams have averaged a 90-72 record during that time, and only once did one fail to have a winning record. It was in 1986 with the Cardinals. That also happens to be year Clark tore ligaments in his right hand, limiting him to 65 games.

“The guy is a winner,” McKeon said, “and in this game that’s about the highest compliment you can make about someone. He’s a born leader, and no matter what he does on that field, he’s going to make your team better.

“Of course, I just so happen to believe he’s going to have one hell of a season anyway.”

Clark and his wife have spent the past three years decorating their Bay Area home in Danville with every conceivable luxury. There’s a fountain in the back yard, complete with a view of undeveloped green slopes and a golf course. There’s a saltwater aquarium built into the wall. There’s a billiard room. There are key pads in every room, allowing anyone to listen to the music of their choice from the stereo, cassette deck or compact-disc player. He has everything you can possibly imagine, and then some.

Now he wants to move.

Clark is waiting for the Padres to approach him with a contract extension. He’d like a four-year deal--five would be better. The minute the contract is signed, he said, the “For Sale” sign will be up on his home, and he’ll be combing the San Diego community for a new one. Maybe Rancho Santa Fe, perhaps Del Mar, possibly Coronado. Who knows?

“I want to stay right here, finish out my playing career and live here the rest of my life,” Clark said. “I really love where I am. San Diego is as good a place as there is in the world; sometimes I feel like I’m in Europe or Maui or something. Really, I just love California, especially Southern California. I love the mountains. I love the beaches. I love the weather. I even like the smog.

“This is where I want to be, and I sure don’t ever want to go back to the American League. I hate that damn league. This is the real game. That stuff is make-believe. Every game of theirs lasts 3 1/2, four hours. No wonder the fans are bored over there, because so are the players.”

But even though Clark says he longs for the Utopia of continuing to play for the Padres and living in San Diego, he refuses to be the one to initiate contract talks. He has been through this so many times before, and it’s about time, he says, that he’s finally shown respect.

“For once,” he said, “I’m going to try to test the system and believe that it’ll be fair to both sides. For once, I’d like them to come to me. I’m not going to go begging and pleading for a job. I just want them to be fair to me, too.”

Clark’s bitterness toward baseball’s establishment stems largely from the past few years. When he became a free agent after the 1987 season with the Cardinals, they refused to give him a raise, offering him a two-year, $2.6 million contract. Not only would it be their only offer, Cardinal General Manager Dal Maxvill said, but no other teams would even submit one.

Say hello to Collusion III.

“They bad-mouthed me and told me to take it or leave it,” Clark said. “I said, ‘Leave it.’ They said, ‘Well, you’ve got two options then. Go drive a truck or go play for Cleveland.’ ”

George Steinbrenner, the Yankee principal owner who never has been one to go along with the rest of the owners, signed Clark to a three-year, $6-million contract.

Say goodby to collusion.

Clark played a year for the Yankees, but like most everyone else who puts on the pinstripes, he felt more like he belonged in a prison instead of a ballpark. He privately requested a trade at the end of the season, and for awhile, it appeared he would be heading to the Dodgers.

But as Clark will tell you, “George hates the Dodgers.” Clark was traded to San Diego.

The bitterness of being forced to leave St. Louis still burns deep inside him, and the way he figures it, he wasted 1 1/2 years of his career because of collusion.

Now, he’s ready for a pay-back.

“It tees me off whenever I think about it,” Clark said. “One day, I’d just like to get ahold of one of those . . . owners and let them know what I really think of them. I was the one who paved the way for a lot of these guys, and they’re the ones getting rewarded.

“I look at Will Clark’s contract (four years, $15 million), and I’m thinking, ‘Give me a break.’ How long has the guy been around, four years? And they’re just giving away money just because the guy’s eligible for arbitration. I worked my whole life for something like that, and when my turn comes for free agency, there’s collusion. I didn’t get a damn offer until Steinbrenner’s.

“And now they’re paying a guy like Will Clark like he’s in the Hall of Fame. People in San Francisco say that he’s the best player to ever play for them. The Thrill, he’s better than Willie McCovey? Right. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Then I hear them say, ‘Well, he got a hit to get them into the World Series.’ Hey, he gets a hit in a (series) they were running away with, anyway. I hit a home run to get us into the World Series. And you know what I got, a big fat zero.

“Look at Kent Hrbek (of Minnesota) and see what he’s done. Compare our numbers. His numbers are lower than mine, and he plays in that little, dinky ballpark. And they’re paying him (five years, $14 million) like he’s Mickey . . . Mantle. You tell me how Kent Hrbek should be making more than I do.

“That’s why this whole thing gets to me. A lot of guys like myself have had to go to war or battle just to get an offer. And now they’re giving it away.

“When my day in court comes this winter (for collusion damages), I want some pay-back, and I want it good. There’s going to be stuff that comes out that they never heard before. They keep trying to bust our union, and it’s just not going to work.

“That’s why I’d love to stay here and forget about all this bull. I want this to be my last contract. I paid my dues, now I’d like to get rewarded.

“I want to play under one more contract and then enjoy life to the fullest.

“Is that so much to ask?”

The Padres, of course, have the prerogative to do as they wish, particularly because Clark is eligible for arbitration and not free agency. But if this spring is any indication of what might happen this season, Clark will be smiling all of the way to the bank.

He enters today’s final exhibition with the Mariners at or near the top of the majors in home runs (four), RBIs (11) and slugging percentage (.808).

Clark isn’t predicting what he might accomplish this season, but considering that he feels just as good at the plate as he did at the end of last season, he provided a hint of what to expect.

“When I hit them,” he said, “they’re going to go. They’re going to go high. They’re going to go far. They’re going to go low. And they’re going to go long.

“And when I have that feeling, you have the feeling that you’re invincible. You feel nothing is impossible.

“And you know something? That’s the feeling I have right now.”