Murray Has the Numbers, but the Not Reward : Baseball: His statistics match those of best in the game, but he doewn’t get the attention they merit.

Who are the only two players in major league history with 3,000 hits, 500 home runs and 2,000 RBI?

Hint: One is Hank Aaron.

Here are a few clues to the other fellow:

--He’s never led his league in a full season in any offensive category. Not homers, RBI, batting, hits, doubles, runs, walks, steals--nothing.

But he has won three Gold Gloves.

--Not only has our man never won the most valuable player award, but he’s only been voted an all-star starter by the fans once. He’s never written a book, nor been the subject of one. He has no national commercials. He hates attention.

--The year he got his 3,000th hit, he was having a monster season (batting .323) for the team with baseball’s best record. But he was left off the 28-man all-star team. The manager said, “I just decided not to take him.”

--Seven seasons after he left the Baltimore Orioles, Cal Ripken still hasn’t caught this guy for the No. 1 spot on the franchise’s all-time home run list.

This season Ripken is awash in publicity and praise--all deserved. However, what Eddie Murray is accomplishing in his liquid, laconic way will probably--in about two years--be appreciated as equally amazing.

Get ready to learn to love Steady Eddie again. There’ll be no choice.

Oh, you say I lied. Murray has 3,000 hits, but not 500 homers or 2,000 RBI. Picky, picky. He will.

Murray has 470 homers and last month, in his only interview of any kind this year, said that he wanted to join the 3,000-500 club, which includes only Aaron and Willie Mays. By the time Murray gets to 500 homers, probably late next season, he’ll be past 1,900 RBI. Right now, Murray has 1,783 RBI and has not shown any statistical erosion in his RBI rate during the past six years. Instead of No. 33, he should wear “95”--his annual RBI total.

To reach 2,000, Murray doesn’t have to do anything unusual. At 39, he started this season needing 262 RBI to get there. All Murray has to do is look down his own Cleveland Indians bench to see Dave Winfield, who has picked up 316 since he turned 39. Carl Yastrzemski had more than that. Winfield had 108 RBI at 40.

All Murray has to do to get to 2,000 is want it. And a year from now, he will, because by then he’ll realize the stature that number could bring him. Let’s make a distinction: Murray hates the irritation of publicity and fame, but he’s enormously proud and loves to be praised as much as anybody.

What we have here is a switch-hitter on a powerful team in a league with the designated hitter who’s playing in a town that loves him. He even has a new baby. Eddie’s shy, but he ain’t retirin’. Not soon. Not with that pat hand.

Pretty soon, as Murray probably helps the Indians to a World Series, we’ll hear that Eddie’s an enormous enigma. Not to the people who were around him as an Oriole. Here’s what you need to know to make sense of Eddie: He’s a complete, spoiled baby. And he’s very smart--one of the game’s best students.

This season baseball has needed every shred of good publicity it could get. Only Ripken and Murray were close to milestones. Ripken’s tied himself in knots obliging everybody. Murray has told the world to go jump in Lake Erie. Why? Because it’s inconvenient. Good for baseball? Sure. Good for Eddie? Maybe not.

Naturally, Murray ends up the loser. Few in baseball doubt that Buck Showalter left Murray off the all-star team this year because of his petulant attitude during his pursuit of 3,000 hits. The game gave Eddie some payback. Try to imagine any other 3,000-hit man being dealt such a slap. But Murray built the rep that made it possible.

It is said Murray is a prince of a teammate. It’s also said he’s a team cancer. Which is true? Both. On a good team, Murray is happy--surrounded by winners like himself whom he respects. He’s funny, focused, mischievous and a mentor. Ripken will always revere him. On a bad team, Murray wants a ticket on the next train.

Murray may have been a Dodger, Met and Indian since he left Baltimore, but he is still an Oriole of the Weaver era to the bone. No team studied the sport more obsessively than those teams with Jim Palmer, Ken Singleton, Lee May and Weaver’s staff, full of future managers such as George Bamberger, Jim Frey and Ray Miller.

Murray soaked it all up. Nobody studies pitchers’ mannerisms or guesses pitches or understands strategies and situations better than Murray.

As Murray turns 40 and finds himself back in the spotlight, everybody will want to get a handle on him. For a starting point, try this: Think of Murray as a poor man’s Hank Aaron.

Though they may end up alone in that 3,000-500-2,000 club, Murray has never been quite as good as Aaron at anything. The power gap between them--of 10 homers a year--is substantial. Murray never had the speed to play the outfield or steal bases.

And, of course, as Aaron pursued Babe Ruth’s home run record, Hammerin’ Hank did it with a sense of forbearance toward fools and responsibility toward the game that Murray has never shown.