He’s Just Plain, Old Wally Now

Wally Joyner turns 31 next month, which means his birth certificate has finally caught up with his hairline.

For the first time in his major league career, Joyner looks the part. No more “Hey, isn’t that Steve Balboni’s little brother?” No more “What’s a rookie like you doing with a bald spot like that?” The recession hit Wally long before the rest of us, but at 31, the back of his head now blends comfortably into the scenery, so you no longer have to ask.

Officially, he is Wally Joyner, Just Another Grizzled Veteran.

Already, the Anaheim Stadium audience has picked up on the theme. A few throats cheer his name when it is announced over the P.A. system now. A few boo. But the overall reaction is one of indifference, a gentle rumbling through the stands that rendered Joyner indistinguishable from Mike Macfarlane or Phil Hiatt or any other faceless Kansas City Royal who made his way to the plate this weekend.

“I’m just another player,” Joyner said Sunday after his current team defeated his old team, 4-2. “I’m glad, too.

“I’ve still got my friends here, who come out to see me whenever I play here, but to the rest of the crowd, I’m just another opposing player now. That’s good. That’s good to see.”

Maybe. That’s one man’s opinion. Joyner never did covet the hot glare of the spotlight--given the choice of roles, he’d opt for Robin ahead of Batman every time--but it is nothing less than bizarre to watch Joyner grind his cleats into the batter’s box, the same way he did 3,000 times as an Angel, and draw less of a response than the daily Jumbotron Guess-The-Attendance quiz.

Anaheim was never ambivalent about Wally Joyner. For one year, the Roy Hobbs rerun of 1986, the city swooned at the sound of two syllables: WALL-EE. For the next five, he was accorded platinum-card status, applauded as he sniped at management, revered even as the superhero greasepaint washed away. Joyner was seen as the 1980s heir to Jim Fregosi--an all-star Angel who wasn’t bought, leased or stolen--and membership has its privileges.

Then, he left Anaheim, jumping across the division to Kansas City, and Anaheim let him have it. Joyner was heckled in his initial visits with the Royals in 1992, with two different syllables occupying air space: TRAIT-OR.

“It was difficult,” Joyner says, remembering that first trip to the visitors dugout. “A lot of people were upset that I left. This year, the reaction has been more ‘Oh, he’s just an opponent now,’ instead of the harshness of last year.”

Even the dark shadow Joyner cast over first base is gone. It swallowed one successor whole, chewing up and spitting out Lee Stevens, before J.T. Snow could vaporize it with an April performance that has been described on 837 different occasions as “Joyneresque.”

Stevens “didn’t have a chance,” according to Joyner. “I was talking to J.T. at first base the other night and told him that the situation with Lee Stevens last year was no-win. No matter what he did, it wasn’t going to be enough.

“The fans were hoping he wouldn’t do anything, to get back at the Angels (for failing to re-sign Joyner). The fans didn’t want him to succeed. They used Lee Stevens to take out their frustrations at the California Angels.”

Stevens, in Joyner’s mind, was the lamb that was sacrificed so Snow could settle in hassle-free.

“Now the fans want somebody to do well,” Joyner says. “They’ve vented their frustrations, they’ve done their yelling. Now they’re looking for somebody’s coattails to ride.”

Nine home runs and 26 RBIs in 32 games make awfully attractive coattails. Snow did all the tailoring himself, and until last week, Joyner was looking naked by comparison.

After 29 games this season, Joyner had no home runs and six RBIs. His numbers now read two and 10--tacked on to a .250 batting average--but on the second Sunday of May, a nation had to ask: Wonder where Wally went?

“I was wondering the same thing,” Joyner says. “I’ve had some bad luck and I had some bad games. But I’m coming around. I think, maybe, I’ve corrected some things.”

There is also a dark theory, first raised on the bar stools of Kansas City, that Joyner has taken the Royals’ money and taken a seat. Joyner entered last June hitting .324 with four home runs, then signed a four-year, $18.8-million contract, then hit .226 with five home runs over the final four months, a predicament compounded by this season’s lurching start.

“It’s very true, I did struggle after signing the contract,” Joyner says, though he will contest any and all fat-cat accusations.

“I also was hurt (he missed 12 games with back spasms) and I put a little too much pressure on myself once I signed the contract. Remember, I’d never signed a multi-year contract before. “I was pressing too much, for two reasons. Being a first-year player (with the Royals) was one. And two was trying to prove to them that signing that contract wasn’t a mistake.”

Royal eyebrows are still arched, although Joyner has rallied for seven RBIs in his last 10 games and had another stolen Sunday when umpire Durwood Merrill nullified Joyner’s third-inning sacrifice fly by waving an all-too-clearly safe Felix Jose out at the plate.

Joyner figures he has some time to play with, unlike, say, fellow ex-Angel Jim Abbott, whose 2-5 start with the Yankees has incurred the wrath of the tabloids’ dread glare.

“There’s a big difference,” Joyner notes, “between Kansas City and New York.”

He sounded relieved. Eight years in the eye of the hurricane can do that to a man.

Look at the hair he’s lost.