Working for a Living

Rex Hudler tried his best to be miserable. He set aside a day, devoted it to contemplation, to feeling bad, to crying if that’s what it took to cleanse himself of the awful memories of 1995.

Didn’t work.

The longer he rehashed the Angels’ just-completed season one day last October, the happier he got. His mind wandered and he kept smiling, kept feeling good. So many good times, so many incredible memories.

“What a beautiful year we had,” he said.

After a few hours, he gave up. In a few days he would begin preparing for ‘96, determined to whip himself into the best shape of his life. At 35, he would pump iron, climb a stairstepper, run, jump, dive through flames if it would make him a better ballplayer.

The failures of ’95 would be Hudler’s motivation. He would use it to his advantage rather than dwell on the Angels’ late-season collapse, their last-week resurrection and the one-game playoff loss to Seattle for the American League West title.

Hudler couldn’t change the past, but he could do his part to make sure he and the Angels wouldn’t repeat it. He failed often before and bounced back so much stronger, so much more determined. Yes, he could do it again.

It would be easy to fall back on his role as team mascot. You know, “Rex the Wonder Dog” and all that. But Hudler decided he needed to do more in ’96 than lead cheers and crack up the Angels with his dugout and clubhouse antics.

“I’m not here just to wave pompoms,” Hudler said. “I have to bring some skills to the table. I think [the Angels] need some leadership and I think I can do that.”

Hudler batted .265 with six homers, 16 doubles and 27 runs batted in in 84 games last season, fair numbers for a utility player. He hit better than his .257 career average, but he believes he can do better, believes he must do better.

“I’m looking to help off the bench more this year,” he said. “I think we only had one pinch-hit home run all year. I certainly could do more. That’s why I worked so hard in the off-season.”

Hard work has always been the great equalizer for Hudler. Oh, he was fast enough and played the field well enough, but hard work and an upbeat attitude enabled him to become a major leaguer after 10 seasons in the minors. He has been in the majors eight years now and he’s not about to alter his method of operation.

For all his wackiness, Hudler’s game boils down to busting his rear to stay in the majors. Win or lose, Hudler figures the worst day at the ballpark beats the best day in another job.

The real world is calling, though, and he keeps fighting, hoping to delay his departure from the big leagues as long as possible.

“The word I use is joy,” he said. “It’s a joy to be here.”

Indeed.

“I’ve never seen a guy like that,” right fielder Tim Salmon said. “I feel honored to play with him. I’ve never seen anyone like that before. Now that I’ve seen it, I feel honored to have played with him.”

Hudler was a marvel in ’95.

There he was in Baltimore last June, slamming a home run into the upper deck at Camden Yards, the first to do so. Cal Ripken Jr. sidled up to him later and said, “Hud, you’re in a league all your own.” At game’s end, Hudler cried.

In Seattle later that month, he ripped a two-run double off the Kingdome fence off Randy Johnson, tipped his cap at his former roommate in the Montreal organization, bellowed at him to “get back on the mound.”

Back at Camden Yards in September to witness Ripken passing Gehrig, Hudler went to pieces when Ripken somehow found time to send over an autographed ball and bat. Can you imagine? With all he had on his mind, Ripken thought of Hudler, recalling a long-ago promise to sign a ball and bat.

“I look back on that year and it seems like a dream to me,” Hudler said. “I’ll pick up that bat Cal Ripken signed for me. And that ball. Man, those are the positive things. It’s why you go out there each day and be thankful to have the life you have.

“Mays, Clemente, Aaron . . . they’re all gone, man. My time is coming quick. I’ve got to be ready. I want to be able to say I gave it my all. Then I can go on to something else and take the same approach. This game taught me a lot. You don’t know it all. I’m still learning at this age.”

Be a fountain not a drain, Hudler likes to say.

He learned that from his mother, Ann Mueller, growing up in Fresno. It means be uplifting, don’t drag others down. Be constructive, not destructive. She raised three boys and if the strain got to her, it never showed.

“I don’t think I deserve that much credit,” Mueller said, laughing. “It’s always good to set a good example and I tried to never be negative.”

That same attitude carried Hudler through some tough times. After all, he was a first-round draft pick by the New York Yankees, selected ahead of Ripken in 1978, but soon seemed doomed to be a career minor leaguer. Ten years passed, but Hudler never gave up, finally landing in the big leagues with the Montreal Expos.

“It does make me proud,” Mueller said of her son’s perseverance. His runaway optimism makes her laugh sometimes, though.

“The other day, he called me and said, ‘I’m sure this is the year we make it all the way to the World Series. I bet you never thought you’d hear me say that,’ ” Mueller said. “I said, ‘Yes, I do. You say it every year.’ ”

Even Mueller wondered whether he might give up and turn to something else. She knew he was determined, stubborn, but she wondered all the same.

Hudler pressed on, seemingly unfazed by setbacks.

“I fail every day,” Hudler said. “I’m just a guy who’s had lots of failure. A lot of people told me, ‘Maybe you should find something else.’ I was a No. 1 pick and I didn’t want to wash out. I heard the critics and that motivated me.”

He turned down a scholarship to play football with Joe Montana at Notre Dame. Imagine that. Montana would have thrown passes to Hudler, a standout wide receiver at Bullard High in Fresno.

“When I turned that down, I said, ‘Hud, you better make it,’ ” Hudler said.

After several seasons in Class-A ball, Fresno State football Coach Jim Sweeney figured it was time for Hudler to come home. “He said, ‘Let’s go, you need to come back and catch passes for me. Come back and be a Bulldog,’ ” Hudler said.

“I wasn’t going to quit this thing until I made it. That drove me. I got my foot in the door and I said, ‘Keep your foot in the door until you see a crack, then a little light.’ Each year the light was getting brighter until I finally broke the whole wall down.

“When Buck Rodgers gave me a job in Montreal in ‘88, I went through that door. But you can’t sit back and say, ‘Wow, I finally made it.’

“I used Mike Easler as an example. He played 10 years in the minors and 10 in the majors. I said, ‘Dang, you can do it, too.’ I used him as my motivation. I’m at eight now [in the majors]. I can still do it.”

It’s a wonderful life, a ballplayer’s life.