Baseball Gifts There for Taking : All-Star Game: No one is asking, but Garvey would like to work with young players.

The last time there was an All-Star game here, Steve Garvey walked into San Diego Jack Murphy Stadium with 22 stitches in his chin.

Five hours later, he walked out with a trophy as most valuable player.

The last time there were postseason games here, Garvey walked in carrying the San Diego Padres’ fading hopes on shoulders that had not hit a home run in a month and a half.

Five hours later, he walked out after a hitting a home run that will be remembered here forever.

There was a time when Steve Garvey ran this ballpark. His uniform is painted on the outfield wall. Memories linger for those in the seats.

Yet for the beginning of festivities surrounding the 63rd All-Star game Tuesday, Garvey is little more than a visitor.

Baseball is holding a big game in San Diego for the first time since Garvey’s playoff heroics of 1984, but he is no longer part of baseball.

He briefly will wear a uniform in today’s old-timers’ game. Then he will pick up the microphone he uses for conducting interviews and analyzing games for Prime Ticket Network.

But his best question will go unasked: Why don’t the Dodgers or Padres, teams for whom he played a total of 18 1/2 seasons, employ him?

With the exception of a speaking engagement or fantasy baseball camp, his relationship with the two front offices has never matched his relationship with their fans.

“I would always entertain any opportunity to work for them . . . but all I can do is offer,” Garvey said recently. “It is purely up to them. The way I look at it, if nobody responds to me, well, fine.”

Garvey said he is “extremely happy” in his job as the executive producer for Garvey Communications, a television production company. He said he also enjoys working as a commentator for Prime Ticket and running a baseball camp for youngsters.

But he sounds as if something is missing.

“My philosophy is, I have played baseball since I was eight, and so I have knowledge and experience,” Garvey said. “I could work in the front office with a team’s young talent. I could help them both physically and mentally. . . .”

He added: “All I care about is giving back to the game. If I can’t, well, fine.”

Garvey’s agenda could contain a trip to Cooperstown, because he will be eligible for the Hall of Fame for the first time next year.

But the Dodgers and Padres had better refrain from planning a celebration.

“If I am fortunate enough to make it, I don’t know what cap I would be wearing,” Garvey said, referring to the busts of inductees. “If I had to tell you now, I couldn’t.”

He paused, then laughed. “Maybe I would go in with no cap, but with that plaster of Paris hair that Jay Johnstone always joked about.”

This man without a team has not found much funny since retiring in early 1988 after 13 1/2 years with the Dodgers and five with the Padres.

One year later, he made national news by acknowledging that he had gotten two women pregnant before marrying a third.

Within days, he went from a hero to the kind of joke you stick on an automobile fender.

Nearly as memorable as his home run against Chicago Cubs during Game 4 of the 1984 championship series was this bumper sticker printed five years later: “Steve Garvey is Not My Padre.”

Garvey had done nothing illegal or life-threatening, yet his many of his hopes for his post-baseball career were finished.

He never ran for political office. His attempt at hosting radio shows failed. His marketing company disbanded.

Garvey moved back to Los Angeles from San Diego two years ago to start again in the television business.

“Looking back on (it), something doesn’t fit,” said a local marketing executive. “He doesn’t do anything worse than Magic Johnson, yet Magic is a hero and Steve Garvey was an outcast.”

Garvey still possesses the eternal smile and warmth. As evidenced by the lines in front of him during a recent autograph session at All-Star FanFest, he is still one of baseball’s most popular former players.

He does few extensive interviews.

“I have vowed to my family that I will not do interviews about anything in my personal past,” Garvey said. “This is the way it has to be.”

Does he think that personal past has hurt him with the Dodgers and Padres?

“I have no idea,” he said. “I guess everybody has their own agenda.”

Others are surprised that Garvey is not affiliated with an organization.

“It’s a mystery to me,” said Don Corsini, executive vice president of programming and production at Prime Ticket. “You would think that a man of Steve’s caliber, one of those teams would call. Everything Steve has done here has been positive.”

Executives from both clubs claim Garvey has never specifically asked for work.

“I’ve never had the feeling that Steve has had interest in full-time work,” said Fred Claire, Dodger vice president. “Frankly, I don’t recall a conversation with Steve where he said, ‘I can come in and do ‘X.’ ”

But the Dodgers, whose organization is loaded with former players, do not always require applications.

They approached top managerial prospect Jerry Royster three times before Royster agreed to leave the golf course and run a minor league team. He is now at double-A San Antonio.

“If Steve has an interest, he should come to me,” Claire said. “We listen to all the people who come here. It doesn’t mean that we always have an appropriate opening. But he should come in.”

Claire referred to the case of Reggie Smith, a minor league batting instructor.

“Reggie called me, said he wanted to stay in the game and we had a joint interest,” Claire said.

Dick Freeman, the Padres’ president, sounded as surprised as Claire.

“I’ve never had a discussion with Steve about this,” he said. “His name has not come up around here, but only because there was no reason for it. We just haven’t increased the size of our staff.”

John Boggs, a player agent and former Garvey associate, can’t understand any reason that would keep Garvey out.

“If you look at the amount of retired players employed by clubs, there is obviously some value derived from that,” Boggs said. “So why not Steve? I don’t know how you could pinpoint one reason. I’m sure a lot of excuses will be given.”

Tony Gwynn of the Padres has one idea.

“You have to keep in mind baseball is an image game,” Gwynn said. “Things that have happened to Steve the last couple of years haven’t done a lot for his image.

“If he was working somewhere and those things happened, are most organizations going to let him continue to work there? I doubt it.”

Boggs said many of those excuses could disappear if Garvey is voted into the Hall of Fame.

“That could finally refocus where the focus should be--on Steve’s baseball ability,” Boggs said.

That ability is highlighted this time of the year. Garvey played on teams that were 10-0 in All-Star games. He was a two-time game MVP, the first to make the starting lineup as a write-in candidate and the first to get more than 4 million votes.

“I always considered that a special game--the best against the best,” Garvey said. “It was always very important to me to win.”

It was so important that when he won his first MVP award in 1974, he played the game with the mumps.

“You look back at films, I look like a chipmunk,” Garvey said. “Five days before the game, I came down with the mumps, but I was going to play anyway.”

He got a little luck.

“I’m leading off the second inning against Luis Tiant, with that weird delivery . . . and I swing at the first pitch and almost fall on my face,” Garvey said. “I said, ‘God, please just let me hit the ball.’ ”

He singled.

Yogi Berra, the National League manager, used all of his reserve first basemen in the first five innings.

“I was only supposed to play three innings because of the mumps,” Garvey said. “But Yogi uses Tony Perez as a pinch-hitter then says, ‘Oops. Oh well, Steve, you’ve got to play nine.’ ”

His heroics in the 1978 All-Star game in San Diego--two hits, two runs batted in--also nearly didn’t happen.

Three days before the game, Garvey was hit in the chin by a pickoff throw from Bob Welch in the Houston Astrodome, and required 22 stitches.

“I’m lucky there was a plastic surgeon at Houston Memorial that night--he had just put somebody’s fingers back on,” Garvey said. “He sewed me up and I played the next day. You don’t need the chin to run.”

His chin still required the bandage for the game. But appropriately, somebody affixed it with a star.

“I’ve been through so much on the field,” Garvey said. “I think it would be a waste not to share it.”