It’s Working Out for Vandeweghe : Clippers: Not many thought he would last in the NBA, but his leadership and exercise ethic have made him a valuable resource.

Ernest Maurice Vandeweghe III, a month into his 13th NBA season and four months into his 34th year, climbs aboard a stationary bicycle in the Clippers’ exercise room at the Sports Arena and begins to crank away, quickly accelerating to the desired speed.

He stays there 35 minutes, never breaking the rhythmic pace even as he talks. It’s a consistent churning, the pedaling as circular as the career that started at Palisades High and UCLA and carried him to Denver, then Portland, then New York and now back to Los Angeles. He can take pride in unexpected longevity.

The first sweat doesn’t appear for 20 minutes. The man they have called Kiki since he was about a year old--the name is German for “curly-haired boy” and he picked it up while his father was stationed at an Air Force base in Weisbaden--is a self-described workout-a-holic. So he talks while he cranks.

“The people who are not surprised I made it are the people who saw how much I practiced,” he says.

And then Vandeweghe himself acknowledges he is a little surprised at what has happened.

“I thought I would be in the pros, but I was about the only one,” he says. “I don’t think anyone else had any particular confidence in me making it. I didn’t have overwhelming talent, but I kept working and said to myself, ‘You’ll make it somehow.’ I thought I’d play a few years in the league. Play a few years and then go to law school.”

He’s 40 minutes into the workout, and about a decade late for the bar exam. Perspiration covers Vandeweghe’s face as he gets off the bike and walks a few steps to the limber, a contraption that simulates going up the 90-degree face of a mountain.

“I never really thought in these terms,” he says of playing nearly 800 games despite sitting out significant parts of three seasons because of a back injury.

“I had started to develop a lot of confidence in myself, though. The first year, I thought I could play in this league. The second year, I figured out the ways to play in this league.”

That was in Denver, after a contract holdout had forced Dallas, the team that drafted him 11th in 1980, to trade him. He had considered cashing in a postgraduate scholarship in England and was even back working out with Larry Brown’s UCLA team when Brown persuaded best friend Doug Moe, the Nuggets’ coach, that Vandeweghe was worth acquiring.

Denver was an ideal spot. Moe’s motion offense brought out the best of Vandeweghe’s talents--passing, moving without the ball and shooting. Vandeweghe averaged 11.5 points as a rookie in 1980-81 and followed that with three at 21.5 or better. He had a coach most everyone loved playing for, found friends in the most prominent of Nuggets, Dan Issel and Alex English, and fell in place with a close-knit group.

Vandeweghe was happy and comfortable and his scoring average climbed to 26.7 in 1982-83 to 29.4 the next season. So when Moe called him the morning of June 7, 1984, to tell him he had been traded to Portland for three players and two draft picks, it was a shock. A playoff analyst for KABC-TV at the time, he called the station and told them the news, then went on the air to announce his own deal.

There were more good years for the Trail Blazers, highlighted by the 26.9-point average in 1986-87, but it was no Denver. There was the Mike Schuler controversy that cost Schuler his job and overshadowed the opening signs of success Portland now enjoys, with Vandeweghe in the anti-Schuler camp. There were the back spasms and pain that dogged him for years and forced him to lie on his back on the sideline instead of sitting on the bench. He didn’t see a movie for two years because even that required too much sitting.

Vandeweghe played only 37 games in 1987-88, 45 the next season and 22 the next. He thought the problems would never go away and battled frustration along with the pain and stiffness. In February of 1989, he was traded to New York for a first-round pick.

He spent 3 1/2 seasons in New York and shook the back problems, to the point that he played 75 games for John MacLeod in 1990-91. But when Pat Riley came in last season, Vandeweghe dropped from 32.3 minutes to 14.3 and had long stretches where he did not play at all.

The Knicks said publicly they wanted him back for this season, but Vandeweghe was skeptical. He met with team President David Checketts, who reinforced that notion, but acknowledged it would remain a reduced role. They agreed that it would be best for Vandeweghe to go elsewhere, and the final year of the contract, worth about $1 million, was waived.

He passed on seven-figure offers from Greece and Italy, other more-lucrative deals with NBA teams and, lured by the opportunity to return to Los Angeles and be reunited with Brown, signed with the Clippers. For the league minimum $140,000.

“Some people may think it was a real stupid thing to do,” Vandeweghe says now. “Maybe it was. (He smiles.) But I thought it was the right thing to do in a lot of aspects. If they didn’t want me there, they could use my salary for other things and make themselves a better team. At the same time, all the money in the world is not going to make me happy.”

He is happy with the Clippers. At this moment, he is also dripping with sweat, jackhammering his legs and pushing and pulling with his arms in rapid-fire repetition on the climber. He hops off after 10 minutes and asks trainer Keith Jones if he can get in some running on the court, but Jones, being protective of the sprained ankle that eventually sidelined Vandeweghe for five games, says no.

Vandeweghe heads to the weights instead, the one part of the working out he has never gained an affinity for. He picks a dumbbell off the rack, sits on a bench and pounds out a couple of sets of 15 repetitions at 35 pounds. He moves to the pulldown, a machine that strengthens the shoulders and upper back, then to the bench press.

“He’s got more years in the league than two or three guys here combined,” said Carl W. Horne Jr., the Clippers’ strength and conditioning coach. “And he works out more than all of them.”

Vandeweghe doesn’t attack the weights with the same urgency as the bicycle or climber, but workouts and basketball have been a cherished cornerstone of his daily routine for years, so he doesn’t duck any portion. During an average day this summer, for example, he was up at 7:30 or 8 to do some back exercises, make the five-minute drive from his home to UCLA to shoot around for an hour or two, then head to Drake Stadium to run sprints and distances and the stairs. A business lunch would usually follow, then an afternoon pickup game back at UCLA, then 30 minutes or so in the weight room.

“I’m kind of a workout-a-holic,” Vandeweghe says. “I think I have to be because I don’t have the natural skills some of these other guys in the league have, so I think I have to compensate for it.”

Brown chuckles at the notion of Vandeweghe not having the talent.

“Obviously if he didn’t, he’s fooled a lot of people, hasn’t he?”

Vandeweghe has fooled them all the way to seven 20-point seasons, two All-Star game appearances and a career 51.1% shooting mark. This season, as the backup small forward and the Clippers’ best outside shooter, he is averaging 11.2 points and 2.5 rebounds in 18.1 minutes.

“He’s a pro,” Brown said. “A class guy. When you’re trying to build something and you want to do it the right way, you want guys like him on the club.

“When we got him, I didn’t think about what he could do on the court. I just thought what he would do for us in the clubhouse and as a leader. But for him to come out as quickly as he did has been a pleasant surprise.”

A set of 15 at 135 pounds on the bench press. Rest. The sweat is dripping off his face and through his shirt.

“There’s still more things for me to do in the game,” Vandeweghe says. “If I thought I had learned all there is to learn, I wouldn’t play anymore. But there’s still a lot to go.”

He feels he has a few more productive seasons left and would like to stay with the Clippers and be part of his first championship team. He would eventually like to work with younger players when his minutes decline. More immediately, he would like to do 10 more repetitions at 135 pounds on the bench press.

“When I think about it, I consider how lucky I am,” Vandeweghe says. “When I first started playing, in high school, people laughed at me and said I’d never make it in college. In college, they said I’d never make it in the pros. Then they said I’d never last this long. Hopefully, I can continue to surprise people.”

No sweat. But first, sit-ups.