San Diego’s Santiago Is at Peace With Himself : Baseball: With the help of a friend, the Padre catcher is learning to forgive, even if he can’t always forget.

Benito Santiago sorts through the videos atop his TV set, finds one to his liking, grabs a beer, sits back on his couch and relaxes in his hotel room.

The curtains remain open in his room as he watches “The Shrimp on the Barbie.” Hotel guests, knowing this room belongs to the Padres’ star catcher, peek in with no inhibitions about invading his privacy.

They are astonished to see Santiago smiling and waving.

Need an autograph?

Come on in.

Just want to talk?

Have a seat.

You want a picture?

Let me comb my hair.

Benito Rivera Santiago, 26, apparently has found peace. The torment and rage that burned within him have vanished.

Gone are the days of screaming at his manager. Gone are his chastisements of the pitching staff. Gone are his desires to beat someone’s face to a pulp.

“You know, it sounds crazy because of the stuff I went through during the winter,” Santiago says softly. “But I tell you what, I’ve never been happier, more calm in my life.

“What do you think?

“Crazy, huh?”

Two years ago, Scott Boras, Santiago’s newly hired agent, went to visit him in Jauca, Puerto Rico. Boras barely knew Santiago, but after spending 10 days on the island, he knew something was terribly wrong.

This was a catcher on the verge of greatness. A Gold Glove winner after only two years, he had established himself as the league’s best-hitting catcher.

But Boras left knowing that, although Santiago might be a Hall of Fame catcher in the making, his career also could end any day.

“I was scared to death,” Boras said. “Just seeing what Benito had to deal with every day, I wondered how he survived. The Puerto Rican culture is very different anyway, but to see the area where he lived, oh, my God.”

In Santiago’s neighborhood, Boras said, were mobsters and drug traffickers. Dope and guns were everywhere. And everyone knew where he lived.

“I know it was a bad neighborhood,” Santiago said. “But my family lived there. So did my friends.”

Few friends remained. His older cousin is in prison for life for murdering four people. One of his best friends, also a catcher, was killed in a bar, shot while drinking a beer.

“Most of my friends are either dead or in jail,” Santiago said.

Boras persuaded Santiago to leave Puerto Rico. Live in San Diego, he said. Learn the culture. Learn the language. Get away from your troubles.

Santiago listened and bought a house in Chula Vista, with a view of downtown and the Coronado Bridge. So taken with the view, Santiago simply stood in the back yard for 30 minutes, then bought the house without stepping inside.

“Crazy, huh?” Santiago said.

Santiago’s wife took English classes. He began making public speaking appearances.

Even with the environmental change, however, Boras could see that his hostility still raged.

Full of machismo and braggadocio when surrounded by friends, Santiago was quite different when alone. Blanca, his wife, and Boras knew that Santiago was as insecure as a high school freshman.

His anguish goes back to the day he learned that the couple he thought were his parents were actually friends of the family. He was 10.

His father died when Benito was 3 months old.

His mother was on the other side of the island, in Ponce. She had six children when her husband died. She gave Benito to friends.

“I still think about that,” Santiago says. “I wonder why she did that. Why didn’t she keep me? Why didn’t she at least stay close to me? I don’t like thinking about that, but it’s always on my mind.”

Santiago’s mother never visited when he was growing up. She did call once, after he was selected rookie of the year in 1987.

“She started talking about how she’s my real mother,” Santiago said. “But I told her my mother is the one who lives in my house who takes care of me. I haven’t talked to her in two or three years now.”

Boras, perceiving that Santiago’s suffering was much more complex than he imagined, decided Santiago needed help. He wanted Santiago to see a psychologist, Celia Falicov, an Argentine who practices in La Jolla.

The problem was telling Santiago that he needed help.

“I was very afraid,” Boras said. “I sat around for two days thinking how I was going to say it and what I was going to say.”

Santiago listened, and much to Boras’ surprise, did not even wince. He wanted help.

“At first, I wondered how I was going to do that,” Santiago said. “Before, I never open up to my friends, so I wonder what am I going to explain to a lady I’ve never met in my life? But he told me to give it a chance, that it would do me good.

“Now, I’ll never forget what Scott’s done for me. He’s part of my family now. He’ll be with me always.”

Santiago listens to the accolades. His pitchers rave about his arm, the one that prevents baserunners from even tempting a lead. Umpires say he’s the best they have seen since Johnny Bench. Bench predicts that Santiago will be joining him in the Hall of Fame.

Santiago already is acclaimed as the best in the business. He has won three Gold Gloves and three Silver Slugger awards. He has been selected to the All-Star team. And for the past two years, he has led National League catchers in home runs and runs batted in, despite having missed two months last season with a broken arm.

“The way I’m going now, I don’t think I’ll have a problem getting in the Hall of Fame,” Santiago says. “If I play another 10 to 14 years, believe me, I’ll be there.”

Yet, if Santiago is the greatest catcher in baseball, he wants to know why the Padres are not treating him as such.

He wants to know why they gave first baseman Fred McGriff and right fielder Tony Gwynn lucrative four-year contracts and pitcher Bruce Hurst a two-year extension, but left him fending for himself in arbitration.

“Believe me, they’re making a big, big mistake,” Santiago says. “They could have me for the next 10 years. Look at me. It’s not like I’m 38 or 40 years old. I’m 26. Look at my body.”

The Padres did offer a four-year contract for about $11 million, but Santiago quickly rejected it, saying instead he was seeking a contract similar to Will Clark’s--four years for about $17.5 million. Joe McIlvaine, Padre general manager, didn’t budge, and Santiago’s 1990 contract was resolved in an arbitration hearing. He lost and was awarded $1.65 million.

“They say I’m not a slugger like Will Clark, so I don’t deserve that kind of money,” he says. “Hey, I don’t care if Will Clark hits 50 home runs, he can’t play defense like me. He’s not behind the plate. Show me another catcher who does what I do.

“Really, I don’t understand what that guy is talking about. I don’t have to prove anything to anybody. I have three Gold Gloves. Three Silver Sluggers. I’m an All-Star. What more do they want?

“I know people say, ‘How can you turn down $11 million?’ How can a guy from my background turn down that kind of money? One writer, he make me look like a pig in the damn paper because I turn down $11 million.

“I just want to be paid what I deserve. If I deserve to be paid one penny, pay me one penny. If I deserve $20 million, pay me $20 million.

“But I know I’m worth more than $11 million, come on.”

The old Benito Santiago would have allowed his contract frustrations to tear him apart this spring. He would have been moody and rebellious.

But the new Benito Santiago is as calm and even-tempered as if he were the richest man on earth. He’s out early, catching pitchers. He stays late working on drills. Whatever he is asked, he’s there to accommodate.

“I’m here to play baseball,” Santiago says. “I’m upset at the club. I don’t like what they did. But it’s a business. That’s all. I understand that.

“I hope they understand, too, when I become a free agent in two years. No hard feelings. It’s just business. I like the city of San Diego, and we feel comfortable there, but there are other places I like too.”

Santiago sits back and laughs. Life is good again. Maybe he doesn’t make the money he thinks he deserves. So he bought a used Porsche instead of a new one.

It was the same white Porsche that aroused police suspicions on Christmas Eve when he stopped to help his sister, Eneida, who was pulled over for erratic driving. Santiago says he intended to explain to police that his sister does not speak English. The next thing he knew, he says, he was lying on the ground with a knee in his back.

His sister was released but he was jailed until 5:30 Christmas morning for suspicion of drunk driving and obstructing an officer. No charges were filed, but it was all over the news in San Diego.

“Here’s Benito, a Puerto Rican in a three-quarter-length leather coat and a white Porsche,” Boras said. “So you know what the police were thinking.”

Santiago’s daughter, 5-year-old Bennybeth, who witnessed the incident, still is receiving counseling for the trauma. It wasn’t until recently that she could get into a car without crying.

“That’s not right,” Santiago says. “It’s not fair what happened. But you know what? I’m not angry. I forgive them.

“I did a lot of things that were wrong too. Just like Jack McKeon (former manager). I was wrong about that guy. I said a lot of bad things to him, right to his face.

“He should have slapped my face. He should have thrown me out of baseball. But he didn’t do that. And I appreciate that.

“I’m big enough to apologize. I’ll apologize to anyone who I made mistakes with before. I’m not afraid of that.

“What do you think?

“Crazy, huh?”