Rejuvenated Tigers Surprise Almost All but Themselves : Baseball: Those who picked them to finish last in the American League East are “brainless,” Anderson says.

In the middle of the cramped Tigers clubhouse while preparing for his pitching start Wednesday afternoon, flighty find David Wells was whipping his limbs to the deafening beat of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.” On this typical Tiger day, there would be no sandman. No rest. No peace. This club, known for its wall-banging, is just as much into head-banging.

The first-place Tigers’ new rallying cry? Winnin’ noisily. If this city has yet to notice their early racket--even though the Pistons and Red Wings are playoff dust, the Tigers averaged less than 14,000 for the midweek Kansas City Royals matchup--that isn’t spoiling the fun. There is a new Motown sound here. Loud and loose, these burly men carry heavy bats and prefer heavy metal.

Overshadowing the rejuvenated and occasionally juvenile Kirk Gibson’s booming voice on Wednesday was Guns ‘N Roses, a more dominating clubhouse presence than even garrulous Manager Sparky Anderson. “Listen to that string,” Kirk Gibson implored. “That is swe-e-e-e-et. Very motivational.”

Gibson, described lovingly by Anderson as “ornery as sin,” once again is the undisputed leader. He is a force and a .394 hitter who’s viewed as the brainiest of this brawny crew, though he prefers screaming to conversing. Gibson, still running hard on creaky knees, best exemplifies the club’s all-out, all-or-nothing spirit. On this team filled with comeback tales, nobody’s story inspires more. Retired to elegant Grosse Pointe Shores, Mich., until February, Gibson said he missed the competition. The guys, too.

“It’s a bunch of crazy nuts, psychotic fools,” reliever Mike Henneman said, explaining everyone’s attraction.

As intriguing a case as ever is Anderson, who claims no surprise over the 16-10 start, or the well-balanced efforts. Anderson, chiding the legions who picked the pitching-questionable Tigers to finish last in the American League East, said, “I wasn’t worried. You’d have to be brainless if you look at us and say we’re the worst team.”

Unquestionably, the Tigers, who face the Yankees this weekend, remain the most dangerous. They don’t defeat, they devastate. Here, the wild-hacking Gibson is considered the lineup middle’s finesse among home-run threats Cecil Fielder, Mickey Tettleton and Rob Deer. Even though the imposing Fielder has hit only three homers--none in 20 games before his 459-foot center-field drive Tuesday--the Tigers are ahead of the record-setting, run-scoring pace of the 1931 Yankees.

With their lineup top of Tony Phillips, Lou Whitaker and Travis Fryman all hitting at least .328, the Tigers lead the league in runs, batting average, total bases, home runs, and slugging percentage. Only the decibel level approaches the .471 slugging average, though they’ve slipped slightly lately with a mundane 39-run output the past nine games.

All this bulk is hardly fair in cozy, creepy Tiger Stadium. Henneman noted that this lineup and this park, “make for a tight fit . . . just like Cecil’s uniform.”

So, on this just-as-tightknit club, where Wells is often called “Wacko,” to his face, even Fielder is fair game. Henneman, seizing upon Fielder’s rare home run drought, was shouting “Punch and Judy,” at him before Tuesday’s blast. “Shoot, he ain’t God,” Henneman explained. “He ain’t nothin’ special. We understand what he’s done. Still, he puts his underwear on the same way as everybody else.” It’s just bigger.

More stunning than the offensive explosions is the decent starting pitching. More impressive than the twin 20-run outbursts is the earned-run average of 3.58, which is fourth best in the league. In defense of the previously indefensible pitching, Phillips bellowed, “Get off our . . . pitching staff. These guys are quality pitchers. It’s not the same pitching staff as two years ago, or three years ago.”

The volume was turned up and everyone’s mood brightened soon after Owner Mike Ilitch took over last Aug. 26. In a trade of pizza kings, Tigers supporters got the best deal when the Little Caesars founder and Red Wings owner paid $80 million to Domino’s Tom Monaghan. Ilitch’s right-hand man, Gary Vitto, said they want to make “coming to Tiger Stadium a pleasant experience again.” Their $8-million facelift, with a color scoreboard, food court, padded seats, and waitress service, is a nice start.

Even if Ilitch moves from this popular but outdated and odoriferous park, already he has scored major publicity points by retrieving some traditions; just as warming as Gibson’s stunning comeback was 33-year Tigers radio broadcaster Ernie Harwell’s return. Anyway, the owner’s previous act was easily followed. Monaghan, who once spent $33 million to purchase and renovate an island and quickly sold it for $3 million, ran the club with similar acumen. Like the difference in the pizzas, the new Tigers are saucier and deeper.

More important are the personnel moves, such as signing pitcher Mike Moore for $10 million and giving Fielder $36 million. Phillips said, “The last two years, this team hadn’t improved. That was the most frustrating thing. Here I am working my butt off in the winter, and we weren’t going after free agents. . . . Mr. Ilitch gave this team a shot in the arm.”

While Gibson threatens to wrap up the Comeback award, two more emerging candidates are Wells and catcher Chad Kreuter, rejects of the Blue Jays and Rangers, respectively. Wells, 4-1 with a 1.86 ERA after losing 4-3 Wednesday, didn’t fit with the milder Jays. Here, he provides tapes of the Doors, AC/DC, and Aerosmith. “As long as it’s loud, these guys are going to listen,” said Wells, the early leader of a ragtag rotation of Moore, John Doherty, Bill Krueger, and Tom Bolton, until Bill Gullickson returns.

Wells chose the Tigers’ $900,000 guarantee over 15 other inquiries. Though he had to give up his earring and goatee, he is thrilled. Wells said, “Last year I was unhappy. The guys are loose here. They’re outgoing. There’s no one certain group.”

An even more unlikely story is Kreuter, a .205 career hitter batting .462. As much as the 15 pounds he added, Kreuter credits beefed-up confidence. After homering into the upper deck Tuesday, Kreuter said, “When I was with the Rangers, I started to believe people who said I couldn’t hit. They’d say, ‘Just catch.’ Knowing I didn’t have the burden of their labels helped me.”

Kreuter’s drive was mammoth, but the night belonged to the boisterous Gibson, who drowned out the rock music during the one-hour, 54-minute rain delay by running through the clubhouse, bellowing, “Come on. Let’s go. We’re going to win this game.” Down 3-2 at the time of Gibson’s outburst, they did win, 5-3.

The noise continued. Pink Floyd was blasting afterward, at 12:30 a.m. The volume resumed the following morning when Wells spinned psych-up tunes. If earplugs were needed anywhere in baseball, this is it.