L.A. Waited in Pain for Gibson to Get That Healing Feeling

When the royal hamstring was found to be torn last July, Kirk Gibson departed the active forces of the Los Angeles Dodgers for a medical patchup.

At the time, Mr. Gibson was hitting .213, meaning he left behind a bat not exactly labeled white-hot.

Soon, staggering suspense would follow, society asking nervously when the royal hamstring would heal, permitting this entertainer to return to the game.

In 1988, Gibson was voted the National League’s Most Valuable Player, ending the season with a bad knee rendering him mostly inoperative, but remaining mobile enough for him to bash dramatic home runs in the league playoff and the World Series.

By midseason last year, he was out of commission again, leading to the hamstring surgery and continuing speculation on when conditions would allow his return.

“Day-to-day,” the Dodgers called it, until they ran out of days in 1989.

Appearing at spring camp in Florida, Gibson was working up to a return, testing the hamstring scientifically.

But when it failed to meet specifications he outlined, he was placed on the 15-day disabled list, after which he was removed for 21 days more.

How long would it take for this malfunctioning part to heal? And how could the Dodgers get an accurate line on the healing process?

You don’t take a hamstring into the shop and run it up, checking it for RPMs. You go by the judgment of the person owning the hamstring, and this one claimed it wasn’t right.

It next would develop that the Dodgers would send Gibson to Albuquerque, not to visit an Indian healer, but to test the hamstring in the employ of the Albuquerque Dukes, a Dodger farm branch.

Just as easily, the Dodgers could have sent him to the Yakima Bears, another affiliate, but New Mexico was chosen presumably with another thought in mind.

When Sandy Koufax suffered from an arthritic elbow, remedies by the hundreds were tendered, one of which suggested that Koufax be lowered into an abandoned mine in New Mexico and left there for three days.

Radiation from the mine, it was guaranteed, would cure the arthritis.

Sandy never availed himself of this golden opportunity to get well, but there was no reason to believe Gibson wouldn’t try it.

Kirk played five games at Albuquerque and returned to Los Angeles, where he was supposed to start against Cincinnati last Thursday.

“Kirk made a great deal of progress during his rehab period at Albuquerque,” announced Fred Clare, Dodger executive vice president. “We will continue to evaluate his progress on a daily basis.”

Well, on the first daily basis, Kirk checked the hamstring that worked in Albuquerque and decided it wasn’t working in Los Angeles. He missed Thursday’s game.

Nor was the hamstring functioning to his satisfaction Friday. He missed that game, too.

It wasn’t until Saturday that the hamstring informed him it was ready to go.

Throughout the City of Angels, church bells ring. A grateful populace rejoices. Gibson moves into the lineup against the Reds.

He also goes 0 for 4, as he does Sunday, but this is incidental to the fact his evaluation on a daily basis leads, at last, to a start.

Could things be worse? Indeed. The Dodgers could have been evaluating him on a weekly basis, if not semiannually.

Rising 6 feet 3, at 225 pounds, Gibson isn’t what you would call a frail specimen. Macho is his trademark, this image dramatized by the fact he often doesn’t shave. He also cusses out photographers.

He is a tough hombre, leading to two schools of thought on his infirmities. One holds that for all his muscle and rugged demeanor, he has less than exceptional pain tolerance.

And the other school contends he simply has fragile parts, subject to breakdown.

In his time, Gibson has bowed out with an injury to the right knee, then the left. His ankle has failed him, along with his calf, his rib cage and his wrist.

On one occasion, his stomach muscles went bad.

If all the foregoing benched him, he survived, amazingly, a pitch that hit him in the mouth. He required 17 stitches. He was back the next day.

Circumstances didn’t permit his coming back with a smile. But he came back.

Tom Lasorda, field commander of the Dodgers, often has described Gibson as a “leader.”

“Do you say that figuratively,” Lasorda is asked, “or do you honestly believe one guy can lead a team?”

“Hustle and determination are contagious,” he answers, “just as loafing and malingering are. When a guy is out there, giving it his best shot, I feel this is a leadership quality, and I feel Gibson has it when he is able to play.”

Last year, he was able to play in 71 games, not as many as the Dodgers envisioned when they gave Kirk a three-year contract worth roughly $4.5 million.

He seems to want to play, and the Dodgers hope he can, because if they continue to evaluate him on a daily basis, they continue to pay him by the year.