Taking Root

Gregg Jefferies stands wearing his “Goldberg” T-shirt, which has the sleeves cut off and makes Jefferies smile whenever he lowers his head to look at the glowering image of the immensely popular pro wrestler.

Goldberg, after all, loves nothing more than throwing around his opponents, which, in Goldberg’s case, means quickly overpowering them with his signature moves--the spear and jackhammer. Jefferies, too, has been known to throw around some of the tools of his trade--bats and helmets most particularly.

This didn’t get Jefferies’ picture on T-shirts, although once he almost decapitated one of his own pitchers. Instead, Jefferies found his picture too often on the back pages of New York tabloid newspapers. And for the last 10 years or so, he has heard whispers about what kind of a disagreeable guy he is.

But this can’t be true anymore.

For on an afternoon before the Angels would beat Minnesota, 10-8, and maintain their two-game lead over the Texas Rangers; on an afternoon when Jefferies would spend time in the trainer’s room because he hurt his ankle by swinging, and missing, too hard on a pitch the night before, an episode that might make a jerky guy cranky. But Jefferies explained, in an emotional way, what he would do to return to the Angels next season.

“I would take less money to stay here, absolutely,” Jefferies said, and you half expected to hear the groans of star athletes and their agents across the country.

“I’ve made enough money,” Jefferies continued. “What I’m looking at now is being happy and at my family’s being happy.”

What a concept.

When the Angels got Jefferies from the Philadelphia Phillies Aug. 28 for a player to be named, Jefferies considered it a triumph, even though as recently as spring training he had said he wanted nothing more than to finish his career in Philadelphia.

But that was before Jefferies was offered a chance to return to California. He is, it turns out, a California kid, born and raised in the Bay Area. His home and his heart are in Pleasanton, where his wife, Melanie, and children Jacob, 5, and Madison, 3, live, where his parents still live, where his brother and family live.

“My dad’s flown down to a game, my brother’s flown down to a game, my best friend is flying down to a game,” Jefferies said. “That’s never happened before. The one thing I didn’t want to be is a rent-a-player, but when this opportunity came up and the Phillies asked if I would waive my no-trade clause, I couldn’t not come. Whatever happens next happens, but I’d really like to be back here next year.”

Next year is the option year at the end of a four-year, $20-million contract that Jefferies had signed with the Phillies when they were coming off their 1993 National League pennant and thought that Lenny Dykstra, Darren Daulton, John Kruk, Curt Schilling, et al., were one Jefferies away from a dynasty. Instead, that dynasty turned out to have brittle bones, bad backs, bad eating habits, and only Schilling is left. The Phillies are rebuilding. Jefferies is not a building block. Not anymore.

Once he was.

“When I was 19 I was called the next Mickey Mantle,” Jefferies said. “No pressure there.”

After being named minor league player of the decade of the 1980s, he was called up by the Mets in 1988. At 21, he was in a title race and eventually Jefferies became the youngest non-pitcher to start a National League playoff game. He had nine hits in the series against the Dodgers, most by a rookie. He also had something of an attitude.

Equipment was thrown, walls were punched, expletives were used whenever Jefferies didn’t get a hit he thought he deserved.

His aggressive reactions were a delight to tabloid reporters, less so to teammates who would privately criticize Jefferies as caring more about his personal performance than about the team’s. From the Mets, Jefferies went to Kansas City, to St. Louis, to Philadelphia. And while with the Phillies there were private grumblings about how Jefferies was all smiles if he went three for three in an 8-2 loss and all glum if he was 0 for 4 in an 8-2 victory.

But Jefferies has argued all along that he is all about wanting to win and about wanting to do well so the team can win. Angel Manager Terry Collins says that he appreciates Jefferies’ intensity.

“And if I hadn’t started in New York and gotten the bad rap doing stuff every player did, there would be no reputation,” Jefferies says.

Jefferies never did turn into the next Mickey Mantle, either. His best days were his last two seasons in St. Louis, where he batted .335 with 28 home runs, 138 RBIs and 58 stolen bases. Those numbers got him his big contract. In four years in Philadelphia, Jefferies averaged .287, had 37 home runs and 203 RBIs. In 1995, ’96 and ‘97, he spent time on the disabled list, missing 52 games in 1996.

Just what the Angels need, a player who is injury-prone.

There is no talk from the Angels about keeping, or not keeping, Jefferies for longer than the rest of this season. Still, he has batted .455 (15 for 33). He got the 1,500th hit of his career Saturday, the same night he drove in the winning run.

And Jefferies wants to be here. He says he’ll sacrifice to do it. Could this be a trend? Could Mike Piazza hear Jefferies say that where he lives, where he loves to live, is worth a few million less, that $20 million already earned is quite a substantial nest egg? Could Piazza hit himself in the head and say, “Hey, I could exist in Manhattan Beach quite well on $75 million or $50 million, so let’s give the Angels a call”?

Now that would be living in a Disney world, wouldn’t it?

Diane Pucin is a columnist for the Orange County edition of The Times.