Pendulum Swings for Juan Samuel

It is not uncommon for successful pitchers to suddenly and inexplicably lose their ability to throw strikes. The affliction set back the Phillies’ Bruce Ruffin; prompted the release of Steve Gasser, a Mets farmhand who was once a top prospect, and seems now to be striking the Royals’ Mark Davis.

It is much rarer for a proven player to suddenly lose his ability to hit. And yet that is what has happened to Juan Samuel, a two-time All-Star who--though only 29 and in good health--can no longer hit a baseball consistently.

“It’s an elusive mystery,” Mets Vice President Joe McIlvaine said. “People talk about rotisserie leagues and statistics. But we’re dealing with human beings, not computers or machines. Things happen that are unexpected. Sammy’s situation is virtually unexplainable.”

The Mets gave up Lenny Dykstra and Roger McDowell last year to get Samuel, only to trade him six months later to the Dodgers for Mike Marshall and Alejandro Pena.

The Mets traded for Samuel largely because of what he had done prior to 1988. He was the first player in history to record double figures in doubles, triples, homers and stolen bases in his first four seasons. He hit 28 homers and drove in 100 runs in 1987.

“We were aware that his level of play had declined (since then),” McIlvaine said. “Naturally, we expected the guy to get a little better. But he seemed to go the other way. He doesn’t have any eyesight problems or what have you. Samuel is a hard one to explain.”

Since batting .272 in 1987, Samuel has hit .246, .235 and now .214 with the Dodgers this year. He has been so awful that Manager Tommy Lasorda once benched him for five days so that hitting Coach Manny Mota could throw him nothing but curve balls every day in the batting cage.

Samuel will swing at just about any pitch within the local area code. But that always has been his style. Even in his first four seasons, he averaged just 37 walks.

Said McIlvaine, “My guess is it would have to be mental.”

Samuel concurred. He is a sensitive man who was convinced that he had to get out of New York when he saw two cab drivers start a fistfight after a minor accident at one of the Manhattan tunnels. He was nervous about playing center field when the Phillies moved him there in 1988. And he reacted with angst when the Mets introduced him as the impact player to rescue a sluggish offense last year.

“At times,” Samuel said, “I think I should care less about the game. I think I care too much. I care so much that I begin to press because I don’t want to let people down. I wish I could be like all the guys who just leave it when they have a bad game. I can’t. That’s not me. So I’ve just got to keep plugging away.”

So Samuel has allowed his sensitivities and his anxieties to imprison his marvelous athletic skills. It is a perplexing case of mind over batter.

He tapped his head with his finger and said, “I think it’s all up here. My swing’s not bad. I’ve been thinking too much. I have not been able to block negative thoughts out. I can’t take one at-bat into another. It’s hard to relax. I’ve got to keep trying things.”