Quite a Retro-Fit

Fans near the visitor’s bullpen at Seattle’s Safeco Field were on a roll. They easily spotted Angel relief pitcher Ben Weber, with his shoulder-length hair and Rasputin-esque beard, and the heavy metal hair-band jokes rained down.

“Escape the ‘80s!”

“Hey, Def Leppard!”

“Yo, Van Halen!”

Only one problem: Weber wasn’t the least bit insulted.

“I liked it because I’m a total ‘80s person,” Weber said. “I love the ‘80s. They were complimenting me.”

Such attention isn’t surprising, because there is little about Weber that can be considered ordinary.

While most pitchers wind up and come right at batters, Weber’s delivery is different. Peering through Buddy Holly-style glasses, he uncoils like a snake and delivers the ball with a herky-jerky pitching motion that batters find, to say the least, annoying.

And while most players travel through minor league backwater towns on their way to the majors, Weber’s trip included a detour to Taiwan, where he spent a couple of seasons reviving his career. It’s in fine shape at the moment as he has become a vital member of the Angel bullpen with a 3-1 record and 3.00 earned-run average in 26 games.

Even Weber is amazed by his unusual career path, one that took him nine seasons before he reached Anaheim.

“I would definitely say I didn’t take a conventional route here,” Weber said. “But then, look at me. I’m pretty nonconventional. I don’t really conform to anything.”

Something Angel Manager Mike Scioscia knew at a glance.

“He has that Hanson Brothers-look going for him,” Scioscia said, smiling. “You know, those guys from the movie ‘Slap Shot.’ ”

But Scioscia also sees a pitcher vital to the success of his bullpen. Weber has helped fill in as the set-up man since Shigetoshi Hasegawa went on the disabled list May 24 because of a shoulder injury.

“He’s certainly taken the opportunity we’ve given him and made the most of it,” Scioscia said.

Weber, 31, may be just another member of the Angel bullpen at Edison Field, but on the road he is singled out by taunting fans. If he had a dollar for every time he’s heard, “Get a haircut,” Weber would be making Alex Rodriguez-type cash.

Weber also gets noticed for his pitching, especially with his peculiar delivery to the plate. And Angel third base coach Ron Roenicke, who was Weber’s manager at triple-A Fresno in 1999, has heard the belly-aching from opposing batters first hand.

“I’d go out to coach third base and the other team’s third baseman would go, ‘What’d you bring him in for? I don’t like facing that guy,’ ” Roenicke said. “I started hearing that from some really good hitters.”

So when the Angels looked at Weber after he was put on waivers last August having pitched in only eight games for the Giants, Roenicke made his opinion known.

“I said, ‘Heck yeah, go get him,’ ” Roenicke said.

The Angels claimed him Aug. 30, and soon found out what they had on their hands.

“He’s a character,” Scioscia said.

That could be a byproduct of his long, strange trip through various levels of baseball.

Weber, a 20th-round draft pick by Toronto in 1991, was released by the Blue Jays three days before the end of spring training in 1996.

He spent the 1996 season with Salinas in the independent Western Baseball League.

That winter Weber and his wife, Marisa, went to Florida for a vacation and ended up in Taiwan.

“A buddy called me and said that there was a tryout for Taiwan that was only four hours from me,” Weber said. “I hadn’t picked up a ball in a month, but thought, what the heck. I asked, ‘When is it?’ My friend said, ‘Tomorrow.’ ”

Weber left at 4 a.m. and drove from West Palm Beach to Clearwater, arriving as the tryout began.

“I faced six batters and struck out five,” Weber said. “They signed me right on the spot. I told my wife, ‘Give it a year and then we’ll come back.’ ”

A year turned into two. Way-bo, as Weber was called, went 7-3 for Taipei in 1997 and was rewarded with a bigger contract for the next season. He went 12-7 with seven saves while appearing in 56 of Taipei’s 100 games.

“They don’t always have large crowds, but every game is televised,” Weber said. “I would go out on the street and people started calling to me, ‘Way-bo, Way-bo.’ ”

The seasons dragged on because the league spreads its 100-game schedule over 10 months. The ballparks ranged from cathedral-like to sandlot-ready. And the food . . . well, Weber stuck to home cooking.

“My wife cooked every meal for me,” he said. “I couldn’t swallow any of [the Taiwanese food]. Taiwan was an adventure and it was culture shock. We had three days off a week and there was really nothing for me to do but sleep.”

When Weber awoke, he had a major league future.

Mike Hart, who was a hitting instructor in the San Francisco organization and working in Taiwan at the time, spotted Weber and sent home glowing reports.

Weber signed with the Giants and in 1999 was sent to Fresno, where he dominated triple-A hitters.

“Any time I wanted to win a ball game that season, Ben was in there,” Roenicke said.

Albuquerque’s manager noticed.

“He was pretty much the same then as he is now,” said Scioscia, who was the Dukes’ manager in 1999. “His hair was probably a little shorter.”