FIRE EXTINGUISHER

Troy Percival had no desire to follow in the footsteps of his father, Richard Percival, who was a Riverside City Fire Department captain for 31 years before retiring in 1995. “All he ever did was live and breathe baseball,” the father said of the son.

It’s funny how life works out, though. Troy never pulled a child from a burning house or an accident victim from a mangled car, but he is known now as a “fireman” and has almost the same job description his father had: to protect and save.

Like his dad, Troy has a stressful, demanding job, one in which the success of his department--the Angel bullpen, in this case--depends heavily on his performance.

“And Troy probably has more pressure on a day-to-day basis than I had,” Richard Percival said. “But the pressure never seems to bother him.”

That’s why Percival, an Angel right-hander, has firmly established himself this season as one of baseball’s best closers, with 26 saves in 29 opportunities, a 2-3 record and 2.77 earned-run average, 44 strikeouts in 39 innings, and a spot on the American League All-Star team.

Sure, it doesn’t hurt to have a 96-mph fastball with some movement that he can spot and a curve he can throw for strikes.

But what makes Percival so dominant, so dependable--so fearsome, really--is his mental toughness, what Angel Manager Terry Collins calls “intestinal fortitude,” a trait Percival began developing as early as the age of 8 on the ball fields and in the martial arts rooms of Moreno Valley.

“If we got into trouble, whenever we came to a tough situation, he could always throw strikes when other kids couldn’t,” said Richard Percival, who coached Troy for about 10 years. “We’d bring him in with the bases loaded and no outs in the last inning. . . . He thrived on the pressure.”

Percival has often thanked his father for putting him in those situations as a youngster, because he believes they began preparing him for his job today. And though he wasn’t thrilled about karate--”I always wanted to be playing baseball,” Percival said--he still derives benefits from seven years of lessons.

“It helped shape me for what I do now,” Percival, 28, said. “You learn to be very self-controlled. I can’t even imagine being where I’m at now without that.”

Opposing batters who are buzzed with a high-and-tight Percival fastball should take note. Percival is already built like an offensive lineman, a sturdy 6-foot-3 and 230 pounds with a thick trunk.

So before you charge the mound--and no one has in Percival’s four major league seasons--you should know Percival rose to brown belt, one level below black.

“I don’t know what would come out of it,” Percival said of a possible mound altercation, “but I wouldn’t be running.”

If there’s one thing Percival loves, it’s a challenge.

“There’s no better thrill than being out there with the game on the line,” he said. “The games after I’ve thrown three days in a row and I know I’m not going to pitch, those are the hardest because I know someone else will be out there if the game is on the line.”

Percival was drafted as a catcher from UC Riverside in 1991, but when minor league instructors Bob Clear and Frank Reberger took one look at Percival’s cannon-like arm and popgun-like bat, they moved him to the mound, not the most difficult personnel move in franchise history but one that may go down as one of the Angels’ best.

The closer role has evolved into one of the most important in baseball, and almost everywhere you find a contending team, you’ll find a reliever managers can rely on to hold ninth-inning leads.

San Diego Manager Bruce Bochy has Trevor Hoffman, who is 27 for 27 in save opportunities and has a 1.82 ERA for the first-place Padres. New York Yankees Manager Joe Torre has Mariano Rivera, who is 24 for 27 in save opportunities and has a 1.07 ERA for the first-place Yankees.

And Collins has Percival, who has been the team’s best reliever since he first donned a big league uniform as Lee Smith’s rookie set-up man in 1995, when he went 3-2 with a 1.95 ERA and 94 strikeouts in 74 innings before becoming the team’s closer in 1996.

“They are put in tough, tough situations, and that’s why the mental makeup of your closer is as important as any player on the team,” Collins said. “You’ve got to be really thick-skinned, because when you walk off the field your team has either won or lost because of you, and fans will either boo you or cheer you.

“You have to be aggressive and have no fear of failure, because if you lose today, you may have to go out the next day and face the same three guys who beat you the day before.”

That’s probably the toughest task for a closer, knowing how to purge a blown save from your system. Percival learned from the best, serving a 1995 apprenticeship under Smith, the game’s all-time save leader who could rinse away a loss like shampoo in the shower.

But Percival acknowledges he’s still learning how to deal with failure.

“I take a lot of it home with me, but by the next day, I just want the ball again,” he said. “That’s the only thing that makes it better. Some guys need a day off to get [a bad game] out of their mind. Me? Just give me the ball again.”

So Collins does. After giving up three runs against Toronto for his first blown save of the season on May 5, Percival struck out two in a scoreless ninth the next night.

After his second blown save, against Oakland on May 19, Percival struck out A’s first baseman Jason Giambi with a runner on third in the bottom of the ninth to save a 5-4 Angel victory the next night.

That began a string in which Percival went 15 consecutive appearances, a span covering 14 innings from May 20-June 21, without giving up a run. He gave up only two hits, struck out 16, walked three, and recorded 12 saves in that 33-day stretch.

“The way the game is played today, you look at all the successful bullpens, they all have a go-to guy, someone who can quiet things down,” said Seattle Manager Lou Piniella, a habitual smoker who would probably give up cigarettes to have a guy like Percival.

“That’s why closers make a lot of money. When you have a revolving door in the closer role and things don’t go well, things have a way of getting worse, and we’ve encountered that here.”

He didn’t toward the end of his playing career with the Yankees, who had a stopper in the late 1970s and early ‘80s in Goose Gossage who regularly banged the radar gun at 97-mph.

“Percival reminds me of him a little bit,” Piniella said. “The intensity, the demeanor and the fastball. They’re both power guys who come after you.”

Night after night after night.

“He can give up four runs, blow a save, and the next day it’s forgotten,” Angel reliever Rich DeLucia said. “One thing you learn as a reliever is to forget things, and the way he does it is amazing. No matter what the outcome, he’s the same every day.”

It helps for Percival to stick to the same routine. He’s usually up by 7 a.m.--yes, even after night games--and is almost always at the park by 1 p.m. for a 7 p.m. game.

“He gets here before everyone else, so I couldn’t even tell you when he gets here,” DeLucia said. “One day [reliever Mike] James got to the park before him, and Troy just gave him a death stare.”

Percival said he was joking with James, but the implication was there: Percival is the leader, the bullpen boss, and he should be the first to the office.

Percival likes to work out early to give his body enough time before the game to recover, and when he’s done running or lifting weights, he spends the rest of the afternoon playing cards, relaxing in the clubhouse.

“I don’t like to feel rushed,” Percival said. “If I got to the park at 3:30 and tried to get everything done, I just wouldn’t be able to do it.”

After batting practice, Percival will watch the first three innings of the game from the bullpen, then return to the clubhouse to stretch and have another cup of coffee or two. By the seventh, he’s back to the bullpen.

If Percival blows a save and the Angels lose, he is always at his locker, ready to answer reporters’ questions and take the blame. Even if Percival doesn’t pitch and the Angels lose, he’s as disappointed as any other player in the clubhouse.

“For a guy who pitches one inning,” Collins said, “he takes a huge chunk of the loss.”

That’s because Percival has been on teams that came close to winning the division title in 1995 and ’97 and finished last in ‘96, and he’s tired of watching the playoffs on television in October.

“Numbers don’t mean anything--it’s getting to the playoffs and winning that matter,” he said. “What determines my role is the team I’m on. I’m not capable of bunting a guy over or hitting a double in the gap. These guys aren’t going to do that every night, just like I’m not going to go 50 for 50 in save opportunities. What’s important is to have the respect of your teammates, for them to know that when I go out there, I am going to give it all I’ve got, and when I walk off the field, I’ll have nothing left.”

Respect is important to Percival, but not just for himself. “I take pride in the whole bullpen,” he said. “I want to have one of the best bullpens in the league, and to do that we have to be a tight-knit unit.”

Percival has become more than just a leader this season--he’s the patriarch of the ‘pen, deflecting criticism from other relievers when necessary and heaping praise upon them when he feels they’ve been overlooked.

“I know in the role I’m in I’m going to take a lot of heat and get a lot of credit, but the guys in the other roles don’t get a lot of positive press--they’re usually only mentioned when they mess up,” Percival said.

Write something negative about a fellow reliever, and you might as well be ripping Percival.

“If I see a guy getting torn apart, either by the coaches or the media, I have to stand by him,” Percival said. “These are my guys. If they get down a bit, I’ve got to bring them back up.”

The other Angel relievers appreciate it.

“He doesn’t like to see any of us get slighted,” left-hander Mike Holtz said. “He’s a little protective, kind of like a parent.”

Yeah, like a father.

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Fighting Fire With Fire

Most career strikeouts per nine innings for active closers:

Billy Wagner, Houston: 13.35

Armando Benitez, Baltimore: 12.22

Troy Percival, Angels: 11.67

Mark Wohlers, Atlanta: 10.29

Trevor Hoffman, San Diego: 10.23

John Wetteland, Texas: 9.76

Robb Nen, San Francisco: 9.48

Randy Myers, Toronto: 9.05