He’s Still Hungry : Kirk Gibson Says He Is Back in Baseball With Tigers Because He Wants a Third World Series Ring

The heavy-metal music pierces the air, making ordinary conversation impossible in the Detroit Tiger clubhouse, but the noise directly below the stereo rises a few decibels.

It is the voice of Kirk Gibson, and on this day, he is in one of his animated, vivacious moods.

He has seen highlights of an Angel-Toronto Blue Jay brawl, and he wants to know every detail. Who punched whom? How did it start? Did former Tiger Darnell Coles really punch a cop?

Gibson’s eyes glisten as he listens, and he actually is envious that he wasn’t involved. He reminisces about the night the Tigers won the 1984 World Series, fans pouring onto the field to celebrate the team’s first championship in 16 years. Gibson was scared as he ran off the field, remembering a fan blocking his path while trying to steal his cap and Gibson laying him out with a forearm shiver.

“I remember people got upset over that,” Gibson says. “But, hey, man, I didn’t have a choice. It was either him or me, and you know it wasn’t going to be me.”

Gibson leans back in his chair and shuts his eyes momentarily, allowing himself to envision invincibility, the knowledge that you have accomplished the ultimate: winning the World Series while the entire world is watching.

Around the noisy Tiger clubhouse, Cecil Fielder is starting on his second helping of ribs, David Wells is eating a pizza, Tony Phillips is watching television, and there is Gibson, mesmerized by memories.

“There’s nothing in the world like it, nothing at all,” he says. “I still remember that night in ’84 like it happened yesterday. Ooh, did we party after that one, and that was after partying pretty damn good after winning the division and the pennant, too.

“I was up until 8:30 in the morning. The sun was up, and there I was just sitting in my hot tub with a mimosa in my hand.”

Gibson pauses, his face contorted with a look of anxiety, and says in a hoarse whisper: “Those were the days, man, and I’d give anything to get that feeling back one more time.

“That’s why I’m here now. It’s the only damn reason I’m here. This ain’t about no comebacks, or to prove I’m not washed up.

“I’m here because I want one more of those World Series rings, plain and simple.”

Gibson, 35, who grew up in Detroit, helped to revitalize baseball optimism here and has the city dreaming about a World Series.

The Tigers, who have had only two winning seasons since Gibson left in 1988 as a free agent to join the Dodgers, had emerged as one of baseball’s greatest surprises until a 10-game losing streak sent them from first to third in the American League East.

Still, for the first time since Gibson’s departure, Tiger Manager Sparky Anderson believes his club has a chance to win this thing.

“I’ll tell you what Kirk Gibson has done for this team,” said Anderson, pacing in his cramped office. “He has done so much already that he doesn’t have to do another thing all year. He could hit .210, for all I care.

“All I wanted the boy to do was to show these guys how to win, and he’s done that. We didn’t sign Kirk Gibson for statistics, we signed him for what he could do to a ballclub, and the change is incredible.

“He’s one of the special ones in this business. Really, he reminds me a lot of (Pete) Rose. They’re different people, but that makeup is just the same.”

Gibson’s career was presumed over three years ago when the Dodgers didn’t re-sign him, and he did little to disprove that theory in stints with the Kansas City Royals and Pittsburgh Pirates. Now he has folks wondering if this can really be the same guy.

He was supposed to be nothing more than a part-time player when he signed with the Tigers a week before spring training. Gibson played only 16 games last season before being released in May by the Pirates, and really, the Tigers had no idea if he had anything left. If nothing else, they figured, he would sell a few tickets and signing him would be a good public-relations gesture.

Who figured Gibson would emerge as their designated hitter, batting .245 with seven homers and 34 runs batted in, even after a slump that has coincided with that of the Tigers?

“Gibby kept telling us all spring, ‘I’m just going to play a little bit, take on a part-time role,’ ” said Alan Trammell, who is one of only two holdovers--the other is Lou Whitaker--from the previous Gibson regime. “I mean, he was telling everyone that.

“Finally, one day I went up to him and said, ‘Don’t give me that crap. You know you want to play all the time, and you know you’re going to do it.’

“He just laughed, but he knew I was right. . . .

“You ask me, and he’s the best thing that’s happened to this team in a long time. We needed a little fire, we really did, and he provided us with that.”

Gibson contends that he’s much more mellow these days and says he has learned to channel his aggression. Perhaps no one in the game has had as many blowups, he said, but at least he’s more discreet when he unleashes his tirades.

“I’ve matured a lot. but I still get ornery out there,” he said. “Hey, when I’m on the field, I’m not there to make friends. I don’t give a damn what they think of me.”

His teammates say they have had to adjust to Gibson’s personality, learning when to stay away, how far to go with verbal jabs and knowing never, ever, to put eye-black on his baseball cap.

“I think we all read about what happened when the Dodgers tried that with him,” Tony Phillips said. “You can joke around with him, but only so far. Pretty soon, you see that look in his eye, and you know you better back off.

“I mean, the man’s not playing with a full deck, we all know that. But then, the longer you’re around him, you get the same way. It’s like everybody feeds off his energy, and that’s rubbed off on all of us since spring training.”

Said outfielder Gary Thurman, who also played with Gibson in Kansas City: “With Gibby around, there’s no relaxing. I mean, you better not coast or he’ll jump down your throat. He’s not afraid to let you know it, either.

“I’m not saying he’s an ass or anything like that, but let’s just say there aren’t too many Gibbys around, either.”

Most of the Tigers never met Gibson until he arrived in camp, but he had their respect the moment he walked through the clubhouse door. They remembered he had once been the National League’s most valuable player, and were vaguely familiar with his two homers and five RBIs the night the Tigers won the 1984 World Series, but they knew all about the evening of Oct. 15, 1988.

It was the night Gibson was immortalized. He hit one of the most dramatic home runs in World Series history, a two-run, two-out shot off Oakland’s Dennis Eckersley in the ninth inning, giving the Dodgers the victory in Game 1 and starting them toward the World Series championship.

“The first day I saw him this spring,” said Phillips, who played on that Oakland team, “I told him, ‘You SOB, you took 30 grand from my pocket with that home run.’

“That homer changed everything for them. That gave them the momentum, and the feeling that they were going to win it.”

Gibson, constantly reminded of the feat--the Tiger Stadium scoreboard even shows the replay--says he still has difficulty believing it happened.

“What would the odds have been that I would be able to do that?” Gibson said. “I mean, Eckersley was the hottest guy in baseball. I was crippled. I had no business being up there against him.

“I was overmatched, but I just fought him with everything I had.”

Now, when everyone again said he would be overmatched, Gibson is fooling them once more, and the music is getting louder by the day.

“I can’t stand that noise,” said Anderson, shutting his office door. “You know I love the boy, but I sure wish he’d turn that stuff down.

“That’s Gibby. Sometimes you just can’t pay him no attention.”