Son of a Gun: First a Flame, Now a Flicker : Baseball: Reid Ryan is strikingly similar to his famous father in many ways, both on and off the mound.

Son of a gun, he throws just like his dad.

Well, not quite.

But, then again, who in the world can throw a fastball like Nolan Ryan?

“I’ll never throw as hard as he does,” Reid Ryan says without apology.

Reid, a sophomore righthander at Texas Christian University, is strikingly similar to his father in many ways, both on and off the mound.

But even with a delivery and mechanics nearly identical to those of his father, Reid’s fastest pitch has been clocked at 88 mph, about the speed of Nolan’s curveball.

If Nolan is the flame, 20-year-old Reid is the flicker.

A transfer from the University of Texas, where he got little playing time last year, Reid started four of the Frogs’ first nine games this year, going 1-1 with eight walks and six strikeouts.

That’s the first thing they all want to know about, the strikeouts. That, and how many no-hitters has he thrown.

“Not even a No. 1 draft pick could live up to the pressure of trying to be another Nolan Ryan,” Reid says. “To ever compare anybody to him is unfair. There will never be another pitcher like my father. Are they going to compare the next hard-throwing lefthander to Steve Carlton?”

Opponents’ fans forever try to rattle Reid, to remind him he’s no Nolan when things are going good and to question his parenthood when things go bad.

“I’ve had ragging my whole life, from Little League on,” says Reid. “I get a big kick out of it, but I don’t let it bother me.”

He’s too busy looking for control--much like Nolan was at this age--and trying to develop a consistent curveball, says TCU coach Lance Brown, a good friend of Nolan’s who used to coach at Rice and pitch batting practice for the Astros while Nolan played in Houston.

Those are big reasons Reid chose TCU. While Reid hones his craft here, Nolan will be selling out Arlington Stadium 15 miles up the road in his 26th major league season, his fourth with the Texas Rangers.

“Realistically, this is probably my last year,” Nolan says. “It’ll be nice to be close enough to see Reid pitch.”

Father and son have rarely been closer.

“Here, the next couple of years will decide if I play ball beyond college,” Reid says. “So now is when I need his help the most.”

Nolan and Ruth Ryan recently bought a summer home in Arlington, and Reid is looking forward to seeing more of them, of getting a good home cooked meal now and then.

“It’ll be nice to see my parents,” Reid says, smiling. “Since I was a kid, they’ve always had a hectic schedule with baseball. . . . It’s just hard.

“I always wish my dad could have come out and see me.”

But while Reid was toiling in Little League, Nolan was building his legend. This Christmas, Nolan worked with Reid on his curveball.

He went out to the ballpark to see his son pitch against Louisiana Tech earlier this month, but was hounded for autographs by hundreds of fans during the four innings Reid threw. After 25 minutes, Nolan took refuge in the announcer’s box, windows shut. Reid chatted with him after the game.

“His wisdom comes not so much in baseball knowledge, but in life,” Reid says. “He always taught me to be honest to myself. To work hard. To have values.

“I remember one time when I was a kid and acting up,” recalls Reid, “and he told me just because I’m his son, just because my father plays major league baseball and makes $1 million a year, that doesn’t make me any better than the kid whose father works construction.”

Reid has the same work ethic as his father, says Brown. “And they’re both practical jokers, too.”

Reid, majoring in radio, TV and film, would like to be a sportscaster if he doesn’t sign a major league contract.

His answering machine contains no “Hello, this is Reid, please leave a message” stuff. It’s the major league baseball television broadcast disclaimer.

When he’s not pitching, Reid does play-by-play at the end of the dugout, mostly to an audience of one, fellow pitcher Tim Grieve, son of Rangers general manager Tom Grieve. Tim handles the color commentary.

“I’d like to be the guy who goes out to high school football games: ‘Hello, folks. . . . “ Reid says in his best broadcast voice.

“I’m going to play baseball as long as I can,” he quickly adds. “I’d love to play in the minor leagues, even if I never make the majors. Playing college baseball has been great, making these friends.”

Reid only started concentrating on pitching as a senior at Alvin High School, where his father went to school. Like Nolan, Reid wanted to play college basketball.

Before his senior year though, Nolan talked him into concentrating on baseball and he traveled with the Rangers that summer, working with Texas pitching coach Tom House.

He signed with the Texas Longhorns, but only made three appearances last year, including an exhibition against his father.

He left Texas to get more playing time, and had a successful season last summer in the prestigious Alaskan league with 16 appearances, mostly in long relief.

At TCU, he’s become the No. 3 starter.

“I didn’t want to wait two years to get to start at Texas,” Reid says. “I have to improve with game time now. I don’t have the natural ability my dad has.

“If I had stayed there, I think I would have graduated not knowing if I had met my potential. Here, if I play my best and I get to play in the minors, great. If I don’t play beyond that, that’s fine, too. I’ll know I did my best.

“And I’ll have gotten to see more of my dad.”