Gibson Return Sparks No Miracles : Dodgers: 1988 MVP is robbed of a homer in his first at-bat in almost a year, but he fails to get a hit.

Kirk Gibson strode back into action Saturday night. He drew several standing ovations and, on the first big league pitch he’d seen in 10 months, hit a towering fly toward the right field seats.

Oh no, it couldn’t be. . . .

Not this time.

The ball came down in Paul O’Neill’s glove, a foot in front of the fence. Kirk Gibson went 0 for 4 in the Dodgers’ 8-3 loss to the Reds. If there was hope that he’d limp back out and turn the season around like it was the ninth inning of the ’88 World Series opener, that hope did a serious fade. With the Dodger pitching, the job may be too big for Gibson--or Babe Ruth. The ’27 Yankees might be about right.

Besides, how many miracles can one expect on one leg?

Gibson’s surgically repaired left hamstring, which had sidelined him since last July 22, may still be bothering him. His remarks before Saturday suggested something less than perfect confidence in it.

The Dodgers seemed anxious for his return, to say the least. There was much talk about his Albuquerque batting average in his rehabilitation stint--6 for 14--and that long home run he hit. Five hundred feet or so, and it may be still rising, according to legend.

They pencilled him back in the lineup in center field, which will give him a lot of area to cover on which he can stretch out his legs.

With his debut set for Saturday, Gibson put his game face on early.

Asked at 5:30 p.m. in the Dodger dugout if he’d take a question, he snarled:

“Are you . . . kidding? It’s game time!”

At about 10:40 p.m., with his debut and a Dodger semi-debacle behind him, a more-relaxed Gibson sauntered out of the trainer’s room.

He still didn’t want to hear The Question, though. To some people, “How are you?” suggests concern and sympathy. To Gibson, it’s an intolerable drag.

“I know this question’s coming,” Gibson said, pre-empting it. “Just so you guys know, when I’m in the lineup, I’m in the lineup. It doesn’t matter how I feel. If I don’t feel good, I still have to compete against people who do.

“If I’m playing, I’m playing. It doesn’t matter how my leg feels. I’ve decided to compete with these guys and we’re all equal. I don’t want to be asked that question about how I’m feeling any more. It just doesn’t matter.

“I either do the job or I don’t. And tonight I didn’t do the job. You guys, do me a favor and don’t ask me about it any more. OK?

“(Grinning) I guess that pretty much covers it, huh?”

Pretty much. Let’s see, what else was there. . . .

How did he feel at the plate? That’s pretty close to “How do you feel?” but let’s see if he’ll hold still for it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gibson said. “It’s going to take me some time, yeah. I tried my best. It just wasn’t good enough.”

Uh, glad to be back?

“I like to compete. I’m doing what I like to do. I like to win, also.

“The bottom line’s winning and we didn’t win the game, so anything else doesn’t matter. We made some mistakes. If we can learn from them and apply what we learned, we’ll win tomorrow.”

Would he be back tomorrow?

“Look in the lineup tomorrow.”

Did he want to be in it?

“That’s an insult. Don’t you know me any better than that? I just got through telling you I love to compete. If I can, I’ll be there. If I can’t, I can’t.

“It’s not like I did a lot of hard running tonight.”

Figure he’ll be back in there today.

So as entrances go, it was more like grim reality than Superman coming to the rescue. Gibson returned to the Dodgers and the Dodgers dropped to third place in the National League West.

Today is another day. Beyond that, don’t bother to ask.