BASEBALL 1992 PREVIEW : Country Boys, City Slickers : Padres: Bruce Hurst, Andy Benes and Greg Harris go from heartland to heart of San Diego’s rotation.

They grew up in farming and ranching communities, fearful of the big city and reluctant to venture outside their own worlds. Life was good in Silk Hope, N.C., St. George, Utah, and Evansville, Ind.

The three country boys were perfectly content to stay home in their quaint towns, find a job at the local store, and raise their families. No one ever thought about leaving.

Baseball had other ideas.

When you can throw a changeup like Bruce Hurst, a fastball like Andy Benes and a curveball like Greg Harris, you can make a lot more money than you could standing behind the counter at the local hardware store.

Who would have thought that three pitchers who grew up in different parts of the country not only would have the same ideals and morals, but would be the core of the Padre rotation?

They range in age from 24 to 34, from Mormon to Catholic, from a heartthrob to happily married, but each day the trio finds out just how much alike it really is in this changing world.

You can find the three of them together at some point, virtually every day. If they’re not debating issues in the clubhouse, they’re trying to beat one another in golf. Or outplay one another on the basketball court. Or hustle one another at the pool table.

“I can’t believe how competitive they are,” teammate Larry Andersen said. “Every day, one of them is bragging about something they did better than the other. All you hear them doing is arguing. I’m surprised they even have time to pitch.”

OK, basketball?

“Everyone knows I’m the best,” said Hurst, who played collegiately, as did Benes. “That kills both of them, especially because of the age difference.” Harris: “Did he really say that? That’s so far from the truth. His age must have really caught up with him, because now his memory is gone.”

Golf?

Hurst: “Andy’s the best player, but he won’t admit it, because then he’d have to give strokes each time we play.”

Said Harris, who’s just learning the game: “I still haven’t played golf with Bruce, and I won’t until I know I can beat him. And believe me, I will be a better golfer.”

Pool?

Hurst: “Harry’s the best, and after watching him shoot, it’s obvious he didn’t go to too many classes.”

Harris: “All I know is I have a degree. Bruce doesn’t.”

The three of them are so alike in their competitive nature, but so different. Hurst can’t even look anyone in the face, much less talk, on the day he pitches. Benes chats away with reporters and fans alike, wondering why everyone ignores him on those days. Harris is sociable, but stays quiet.

When they have bad days, Benes can become nasty. Hurst is just as loud without the cursing, telling everyone how he stinks. Harris fumes quietly.

These are the pitchers the Padres will depend on to carry them throughout the season. Hurst, 34, a former first-round pick of the Boston Red Sox, is the veteran of the group. He has 11 years of major-league experience, with more victories and innings pitched than the combined total of the entire Padre rotation. Benes, the No. 1 pick in the country in 1988, is just emerging into one of the finest pitchers in the game. Harris, a 10th-round pick, is a converted reliever who went into the rotation for the first time last season and is the envy of every organization.

The three of them realize the burden that lies ahead. They know the demands. They’re aware of the pressure.

They can’t wait.

And when the season ends, they’ll pack their belongings and go back to their roots. The three of them lived in San Diego during the off-season, but soon, that will change. Benes is having a home built in Evansville. Harris bought a house in Siler City. And Hurst already has land in St. George, where he will permanently move after he retires.

“I think we all want to go home and live near people we grew up with,” Harris said. “There’s something special about small towns, and it’s something we can’t let go.

“But first, we have some business to take care of.”

Bruce Vee Hurst grew up in a town of 5,000, nestled in the mountains. It has its own beliefs, own rituals, and certainly own lifestyle. Most everyone around St. George belongs to the Mormon Church.

He was scared to death when he first left home for his first training camp with the Boston Red Sox. He cried driving to camp, and pleaded with his brother to go back home and forget this baseball nonsense.

No one in St. George would have imagined that Hurst would be starting his 12th year in the major leagues this season.

The game’s always been about consistency to Hurst. He never has been a 20-game winner. It has been six years since he’s been a loser. Always, he is consistent, joining Mike Boddicker of the Kansas City Royals as the only pitchers who have won at least 10 games in each of the last nine years.

Hurst is a bit different from the rest. He concedes that he’s probably the most unsocial player on the team, failing to attend the annual team party since he joined the Padres. But he doesn’t feel he owes any apologies.

“I’m sorry, but parties are just not my idea of fun,” Hurst said. “I’d rather just stay home with the family.”

Hurst also never has been heard to utter a profanity in his three years in San Diego. The words he spouts may have the same meaning when he spouts in anger, but they are not the magical words.

“I still remember the time,” Padre right fielder Tony Gwynn said, “when a fan was getting on us real good. Bruce got out of the dugout, and yelled, ‘Hey, buddy, go wash your car.’

“We all looked at each other like, ‘What?’ ”

There’s nothing that Hurst revers more in his career than the 10 days he spent during the 1986 World Series. There’s only four other players on the Padres who have been in the World Series, and Hurst genuinely feels sorry for those who have never shared the experience.

“I could talk to those guys about it for the next six years, telling them what it was like,” Hurst said, “but until you’re there, you don’t know. It was the greatest experience of my career.”

Gregory Wade Harris, 28, grew up in a tiny community called Silk Hope, N.C., near Siler City. It has a fire station and a grocery store. Population? Maybe 500 people.

“It’s a special feeling each time I go home,” Harris said. “I’m the only professional baseball player from the area, and when I go home, it’s almost like I bring the world to my small town.”

Harris, whose career 2.34 ERA is the lowest of any Padre pitcher in history, is the quietest of the three pitchers. Certainly, when he has a bad day on the mound, he goes about it much differently than Hurst and Benes. He doesn’t utter a sound. He simply puts on his tennis shoes and starts running.

“I see a lot of the same personality traits between him and Roger Clemens,” Hurst said. “When they’re frustrated, they just go run. They’ll put on their running shoes after a game, and go on the streets, and run all night if they have to, working out the frustration.”

Harris wants badly to be perfect on the mound. He refuses to accept imperfection. He’ll stand in front a mirror for half an hour at a time, examining his pitching motion, looking for flaws.

“Harry wants to be a perfectionist,” Andersen said, “that sets him aside from the other two.”

Andrew Charles Benes, 24, was raised in Evansville, the largest of the three communities, but still 100 miles from a major city.

He was the town jock. He played on the football, basketball and baseball teams, and eventually took a scholarship at the University of Evansville.

Baseball might have been only his third-best sport. He wasn’t even the best pitcher on his high school team, and was fortunate to receive a baseball scholarship.

Three years later, Benes was the most sought after amateur player in the country, and signed with the Padres. He spent a mere five months in the minor leagues, was called up to San Diego on Aug. 9, 1989, and never looked back.

His talent blossomed in the second half of last season when he went 11-1 with a 1.77 ERA in his final 15 starts. He was selected the Padres’ pitcher of the year with a 15-11 record, and suddenly, the expectations of a 20-victory season already is upon him.

It doesn’t bother him in the least. Benes has the most confidence among the starters, and believes the worst is behind him.

“It’s a cockiness,” Hurst said, “but that’s good. It’s a character trait, not a character flaw. Even in his demeanor, he’s a whole lot more vocal than I ever was, or even now.”

None of the three will make predictions about how they’ll pitch this season. No one’s guaranteeing a 20-victory season, or even boasting of pitching 200 innings.

Instead, they have an air of quiet confidence, and will let others judge their performance.

“We’re not going to brag, or make crazy predictions,” Benes said. “Just watch, and you’ll see the competition between the three of us will bring out the best in us.

“In fact, I guarantee it.”

1991 in Review

Andy Benes Innings: 223.0 Hits: 194 Walks: 59 Strikeouts: 167 Won-Loss: 15-11 ERA: 3.03

Greg Harris Innings: 133.0 Hits: 116 Walks: 27 Strikeouts: 95 Won-Loss: 9-5 ERA: 2.23

Bruce Hurst Innings: 221.2 Hits: 201 Walks: 59 Strikeouts: 141 Won-Loss: 15-8 ERA: 3.29