He’s Got Pop : Mom Also Among Those Watching Power-Hitting Ashley Get Chance

Dad desperately scans the channels for the latest baseball news, subscribes to the Sporting News and Baseball Weekly and keeps his baseball reference material within arm’s reach.

Mom, recognizing that ESPN must now become part of her life, is having her Glendale, Ariz., home wired for cable Monday.

The lifestyles of Bill Ashley Sr. and Kathleen Civk are about to change.

The boys at Montgomery Ward in Livonia, Mich., have been advised that Bill will be gone the weekend of June 16-18 to see his son in Chicago. Kathleen told the local Federal Express branch that she will be at Dodger Stadium at least one weekend a month.

Ashley and Civk will be visiting their son, the big guy wearing No. 7 on his back, standing in left field or right field and perhaps becoming the first Dodger outfielder since 1977 to hit 30 home runs in a season.

Only they can tell you just how much this means to their son, remembering all too vividly that he has been talking about this opportunity since he was 4.

“It’s all he ever wanted to do,” Bill Ashley Sr. said. “We tried to get him interested in other things, even other sports, but he always came back to baseball.

“I’m so proud of my son right now, it’s pathetic.”

Said Kathleen Civk: “He always tells me, ‘Mom, you never thought I’d make the major leagues. You never thought I’d be here.’

“I always encouraged my kids, but I just never, ever, thought this day would come. I mean, one in a million kids make the major leagues. Who’d ever thought you’d have the son who’d be the one?

“Of course, now I credit it to all those trips I drove him to Little League.”

It has been 20 years since Billy Ashley fibbed about his age, got on a tee-ball team and boasted that one day he would be a baseball star.

He grew up in suburban Detroit, a die-hard Tiger fan, idolizing Willie Horton, then Kirk Gibson and Lance Parrish. He loved the home run hitters and rooted for Reggie Jackson and the Yankees to beat the Dodgers in the World Series.

“Now, it’s hard to believe that I’m here,” Ashley, 24, said. “I just never planned on doing anything else but playing baseball.

“Since I was 5, there was no doubt in my mind that I’d be a major league ballplayer. Even when I grew up and got to be this size (6 feet 7, 235 pounds), the high school coaches wanted me to play football or basketball.

“It wasn’t that I was afraid to play, but I was always conscientious about protecting myself. I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize my baseball career.”

Said childhood friend Eric Lawson: “I remember one day we were doing drills during football practice. I accidentally rolled on his elbow and hyper-extended it. It was only three games into the season, but Billy quit. He didn’t want to take any chances.

“Remember, we’re talking about a guy who lived, ate and breathed baseball, and he wasn’t going to let football or anything else get in the way.”

He had such a powerful swing that his coach at Belleville High, John Bertz, remembers positioning three players behind the outfield fence when Ashley was batting to keep from losing so many baseballs. Ashley, who also was a pitcher with a nasty 92 m.p.h. fastball, signed a national letter of intent with Eastern Michigan so he could stay close to home.

Then the Dodgers called. They selected him in the third round of the 1988 draft--three rounds ahead of Eric Karros and 59 ahead of Mike Piazza. And when they offered a $60,000 signing bonus, he was gone.

“I was disappointed because I wanted him to go to school,” Civk said. “I thought he was making a mistake. Now, look at him.”

There were times, of course, when everyone had doubts that Ashley would reach the big leagues. He flopped his first three years, never batting higher than .252. He hit only 17 home runs, had a bad back, a worse temper and stayed in Class A.

“I was absolutely miserable,” Ashley said. “I got so frustrated one night--I struck out with the bases loaded--I punched the cinder-block wall in the runway.

“I didn’t even know I broke my hand until I was standing in the outfield, looked at my glove and it was covered in blood. I was out two weeks.”

The Dodgers immediately instituted a rule. Any player inflicting bodily harm upon himself in anger would be fined $500. It’s known as the Ashley rule.

Just when Ashley thought life couldn’t be worse, when he feared he was on the verge of being released, along came shooting pains in his back that immobilized him for the first half of the 1991 season.

He never thought then that those pains would revive his career.

Ashley’s problem was found to be a degenerative lower disk. He was told by team physicians and a chiropractor that unless he controlled his wild swing, his career would be over.

“It was the greatest advice I ever received,” he said. “I started swinging easier, and I was in a lot more control. They sent me to their (six-week) instructional league. I hit seven homers and batted about .500, and my whole life changed.

“I went from almost being released to going on the 40-man roster, and everything took off from there.”

Ashley hit .279 with 24 homers and drove in 66 runs in 101 games in 1992 at double-A San Antonio, was promoted to triple-A Albuquerque and made his Dodger debut Sept. 1 of that year. It consisted of being announced as a pinch-hitter. Then he sat down again when the Chicago Cubs changed pitchers.

That was symbolic of his opportunity to make the Dodgers the next two seasons. He had no chance of breaking into an outfield that featured Eric Davis, Brett Butler and Darryl Strawberry in 1993, and even when Strawberry went AWOL in 1994, there was Raul Mondesi.

“He could have run his mouth or gotten upset,” said Karros, Ashley’s roommate. “But instead, he went down and proved that he should be in the big leagues.”

Said Fred Claire, executive vice president: “Certainly, he left no doubt in our minds. What more is there for him to prove? For a guy who has the potential to hit the way he does, they haven’t invented a league he can’t play in.”

Ashley made toast of the Pacific Coast League the last two seasons, hitting 63 home runs and driving in 205 runs. He was honored as the league’s most valuable player in 1994, hitting .345 with 37 homers and 105 RBIs in only 107 games.

“His power is so incredible that players from both teams stop to watch his batting practice,” teammate Ron Coomer said. “The greatest thing I’ve ever seen was the ball he hit into orbit in Phoenix. I was standing at second, but instead of running, I just stood there and watched.

“I turned around, and everyone was doing the same thing. Nobody could move.”

Said Karros: “Mike (Piazza) may hit the ball harder, but I’ve never seen anybody hit the ball farther. I mean, he’s the only guy I’ve seen who has hit the ball out of the stadium. He did it twice (during batting practice) at Dodger Stadium. You just don’t see that done.”

The Dodgers’ primary concern with Ashley is his strikeout habit. He struck out 259 times his last two minor league seasons, and considering his defensive flaws, there are those who compare him to, well. . . .

“I know, I know,” Ashley said wincing. “Rob Deer, Dave Kingman or Frank Howard. They always had me compared to those guys who hit a lot of homers but strike out and hit about .220. The more I hear that, the more it (ticks) me off. I’m going to prove them wrong.”

Dodger hitting coach Reggie Smith is aware of the anxiety but believes that everything will be fine.

“When you can change the game with one swing of the bat, you can’t be afraid to strike out,” Smith said. “Look at Cecil Fielder. He hits 40 homers and drives in 110 every year, and you don’t hear people talk about his 140 strikeouts.”

Now, if a certain man in the Dodger organization can only forget a little accident last year at Scottsdale Stadium during the major league strike, everything should be fine.

“Everybody came down to watch us play,” said Ashley, suddenly not sure if he should recount the story. “There’s Tommy (Lasorda), Fred Claire and Peter O’Malley sitting behind the dugout, and the bat slipped out of my hands.

“Well, guess where it went.

“It flew right over the head of Mr. O’Malley.

“I could see the headlines: ‘Minor League Ballplayer Throws Bat at Owner.’

“Needless to say, Mr. O’Malley wasn’t sitting there my next time up.”

Ashley, who will not be eligible for rookie awards because he has too many major league at-bats, says he’s not as upset about that as his family. He even stayed composed during the strike, although it cost him the chance to be called up in September, if not in August.

He has waited too long to concern himself with the past. It’s why he and Karros took a red-eye flight here from Los Angeles the night the strike ended, and why they’re among the first players in the clubhouse each morning.

“Oh good,” said his mother. “That means he’s going to bed at a decent hour. I can’t check on him like before. My husband and I used to be able to pick up all his games on the Albuquerque station. We’d spend every evening sitting on the patio and listening to the radio.

“Now, we won’t be able to listen to all the games, but at least with cable, we’ll get to watch him a few times.

“By the way, do you know what time the season opener starts?”