An Unconditioned Response?

“Who knows?” replied Lou Piniella, knowing there is no real answer.

The Seattle Mariners’ manager was sitting in his clubhouse office at Edison Field on a midweek afternoon, thinking about what once was, who Ken Griffey Jr. once was. He said he is pulling for his former center fielder to regain his incomparable form but wonders if the injuries that have impaired Griffey’s talent--and dimmed his infectious persona--in each of the last two years might have been avoided if Griffey had been more conscientious about his conditioning in those Seattle years when he was Roy Hobbs come to life.

In those years, of course, the hard, synthetic surface of the Kingdome was Griffey’s personal trampoline, and the black leather lounge chair that sat in front of his locker seemed to symbolize his approach to conditioning.

Weightlifting? Stretching?

Junior got his exercise playing the game as no one else played it, even as Piniella tried to tell him that he needed to work at his conditioning, if only to compensate for the pounding he absorbed on that hard surface.

“I told him he might pay for it as he got older, but it all came so natural to him that he probably didn’t see the need,” Piniella said. “I told him that he needed to work harder as he got older, but it’s hard to convince a young man who is at the top of his game and on top of the world.

“Junior played every day, played hard, played to win. He could have [conditioned] as hard as possible with us and suffered the same fate that he has. At the same time, by preparing a little better, he might have remained as healthy and productive. He was the best player in the game, and I’d like nothing more than to see him get totally healthy again and put together the numbers he did when he was with us. I think he’s fully capable, and I think he will.”

It has been only three years since Griffey ignored Thomas Wolfe and forged his return to the hometown Cincinnati Reds, but what has happened to that once indelible image?

Who can recall the magical vision of an irrepressible Griffey, his cap turned backward, jauntily bouncing around the batting cage, joking with his Seattle teammates--and the opposition?

Do we remember the dazzling talent that inspired all those All-Star votes, that prompted Henry Aaron to predict Griffey was the hitter most likely to break Aaron’s home run record of 755, and that in 1999 landed Griffey on an All-Century team so rich in talent that Barry Bonds wasn’t even first string.

Griffey is 32 now, and it is hard to reconstruct that once-vivid portrait, hard to remember when that talent and laugh last lit up a TV screen or magazine cover.

He was criticized by former Red teammates in the spring, accused of being a divisive clubhouse influence and failing to provide leadership, and his pursuit of Aaron’s record has been slowed--if not permanently damaged--by the injuries.

He missed almost two months last season because of a torn hamstring and now is out at least three weeks because of a partially torn tendon and a dislocated right knee.

There have even been reports that Griffey is so unhappy at home, friends have been trying to influence a trade that would return him to the Mariners, a scenario strongly denied by his lawyer and both teams.

“We have three plans for Junior,” Cincinnati General Manager Jim Bowden said. “One is to finish his career with the Reds, two is to surpass Henry Aaron and three is to get a World Series ring.”

All of that, of course, hinges on the Reds’ ability to get Griffey into the lineup and keep him there over the final six years of his contract.

It’s not impossible, perhaps, but Bowden concedes that Griffey undoubtedly came to the Reds on a weakened foundation, his knees and hamstrings affected by all those years on the artificial surface.

“I can’t comment because I wasn’t there to observe what he did or didn’t do from a conditioning standpoint,” Bowden said. “All I can tell you is that I’ve never been a fan of AstroTurf, I’m glad we’re on grass now, and since he’s been here he’s worked on his conditioning very hard and very diligently on a daily basis.”

There may be differing opinions about that, as there are about Griffey’s clubhouse role, but the largest issue for the Reds concerns his ability to perform at or close to his previous peaks.

The home run pursuit is one measure of how far and fast the younger Griffey had ascended.

Despite having spent parts of four seasons on the disabled list with injuries suffered most often through his exuberant play--a broken wrist in 1995 limited him to 72 games--Griffey joined the Reds in 2000 with 398 home runs. He was 30, had hit 48 or more homers for five consecutive seasons, and would pass Aaron before turning 39 by averaging 40 a year, a realistic pace he met on the nose in his first season with the Reds.

Last year, however, never totally sound because of the hamstring, he hit only 22 homers, his lowest total since 1995. Now, sidelined again, he’ll need time to regain his rhythm and stroke, even if the injury allows him to play after only three weeks.

Now too, Bonds has moved into Aaron’s shadow as Griffey struggles on those same slippery rungs that knocked Mark McGwire and others off the ladder.

In Griffey’s case, however, it is not just the pursuit of a record that we miss.

It is the joy and enthusiasm he displayed, that indelible image.

If the perception began to change when he forced the Mariners to trade him--and doesn’t Seattle’s recent success compound his frustration?--the injuries have continued to sap his joy.

As Griffey said in spring training, no one maintains a constant smile when he’s hurt and losing all the time.

Then again, if he had absorbed what Piniella was trying to tell him in another time and place, he might have avoided some of the hurts and gone on smiling.