To Go or Not to Go? First Welch, Stewart, Sax--Now Gibson?

It happens often with a baseball club that it comes to the crossroad with a player, asked to decide on his deployment.

Should he go, should he stay? And, in either case, will there be regrets?

Asked to make a decision on Bob Welch, the Dodgers reached the conclusion he was a performer who underachieved. He had fought a bout with whiskey, and won, which was a lot to be said in his behalf, but, at 31, he was pictured by management as just about to flame out.

He was traded to Oakland, a serious misjudgment on the part of Los Angeles, but not as serious as the misjudgment in letting Dave Stewart escape.

Dave had yet to settle into rhythm with the Dodgers, and he was dispatched.

Pedro Guerrero, a standout hitter, but a pain in the hip? Adios, Pedro.

Mike Marshall, a power batsman, but chronic medical case? Bon voyage, Mike.

Mariano Duncan, hot, cold, temperamental? Arrivederci, Mariano.

The Dodgers could make a case for parting with Guerrero, Marshall and Duncan. But they could muster no defense for losing Steve Sax.

Sax had a contract to be negotiated. Engaging in psychological warfare with Steve, attempting to play it cool, the club made the guy mad and it blew the whole package, quite without cause that made sense.

Now the Dodgers come to another decision, one dramatically easier than the matter involving Sax. They must come to grips with Kirk Gibson who, giving the team two bum years, is making up for it by asking to be traded.

In such circumstance, a team never knocks the performer, indicating he may be trouble. Knocking him could dilute his value in the market.

So the Dodgers proceed quietly, checking what they can bag for Gibson, a mystery of the industry.

Rising 6 feet 3, a strapping 225, Gibson played baseball and football at Michigan State, proficient at both, but more experienced at football.

A flanker, offering size and speed, he would have been taken on the first or, at worst, the second round of the NFL draft had he elected to play pro football.

But he yielded to the blandishments of baseball, accepting the bank notes of the Detroit Tigers, for whom he performed off and on, as he has with the Dodgers.

When he was on with the Tigers, they were happy to have made his acquaintance. But his penchant for being off led, in the end, to their making little effort to retain him.

That’s when the Dodgers took him to their bosom, for better or for worse. He contributed big to their pennant run of 1988, falling injured in late season, but hitting dramatic home runs in both the playoff and the World Series.

What he has done since isn’t worth recounting, able to work only sporadically with a succession of health problems frustrating not only to him, but to the club that pays him and counts on him.

No one questions the gameness of Gibson. He is a tough, physical creature. Mike Marshall is, too.

But whatever compassion is conjured up for those kinds of players, clubs aren’t able to survive them.

So if Gibson asks for his discharge papers, the Dodgers are happy to accommodate, hoping, in the process, to land something at least reasonably useful.

Gibson is neither a troublemaker nor a clubhouse barrister. But he isn’t the easiest individual to get along with, either.

That’s because his responses aren’t always trustworthy. Often he is cold, even rude, trying to establish he doesn’t want outsiders to know the real Kirk Gibson.

His attitudes can turn ugly, snarling, cursing, generally inappropriate for one of his education. His crude attacks on cameramen are a matter of record.

But he also has what is known as a television face, appearing on TV with a warm, boyish smile and charming listeners out of their moccasins.

They will ask, “How can vultures in the press put the knock on someone as sweet as this?”

And they will be advised to see him in all of his manifestations before drawing their conclusions.

But the mystique he creates seems to be his aim, and this is all right for those with a tolerance for such immaturity.

And the rest of society? It is partial to guys whose comportment is more even.

Baseball, of course, doesn’t pay off on personality, which is to say, that irrespective of how Gibson chooses to come off, he is wholly acceptable if he can play.

He hasn’t proved to the Dodgers the last two years he is a major asset. He has lifted a lot of their money.

And now he is teaching them a lesson for their ingratitude. He is telling them to stuff their job, claiming he must move for family reasons.

Kirk prefers a place with greater appreciation for hamstring, knee, groin, ankle and wrist malfunctions.