Impossible Dreamer

The image is burned into World Series lore, way up there with Carlton Fisk’s home run, Don Larsen’s perfect game and Willie Mays’ wondrous catch.

It is Kirk Gibson, limping to the plate on two bum legs, carrying a bat he called “Thumper,” then yanking Dennis Eckersley’s full-count slider into Dodger Stadium’s right-field pavilion, pumping his fists as he hobbles around the bases to complete the Dodgers’ stunning victory over the Oakland A’s in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series.

“We all wish we could be young again, to have a chance of something like that happening again,” Gibson said recently in Comerica Park, more than 14 years after striking the unforgettable, almost unfathomable blow that catapulted the Dodgers to their last World Series championship.

“But at this point in my life, all that’s left is to try to motivate, to try to teach the next generation what it takes to create that kind of moment. That’s what we’re after, to excite, to rewrite history and celebrate a championship.”

No, Gibson, 46, is not loopy from all those pain killers and cortisone injections, the hallmarks of a 17-year career in which he often played hurt. It was with a clear head that he spoke these words, even though he was sitting in the clubhouse of the Detroit Tigers, baseball’s worst team.

When Gibson, in his first year as Detroit Manager Alan Trammell’s bench coach, looks at his young and inexperienced Tigers, a team that takes a major league-worst 16-44 record into a three-game series against the Dodgers today in Comerica Park, he can’t help but hark back to Oct. 15, 1988, when, in the words of broadcaster Vin Scully, “the impossible” happened.

Gibson had a sprained ligament in his right knee, a strained left hamstring, and had taken a cortisone injection in his right knee an hour before Game 1 of that World Series. Nobody, not even Gibson, thought he would play.

Gibson advised his wife, JoAnn, to leave after the seventh inning. He wasn’t going to play, so why risk getting caught in traffic? Gibson was in the training room during pregame introductions.

But in the ninth inning, with the Dodgers trailing, 4-3, Gibson got dressed, hit 10 balls off a tee and had a batboy tell manager Tom Lasorda he was available.

Mike Davis drew a two-out walk, and out of the dugout came the gritty Gibson, whose determination was such a motivating force in his first year with the Dodgers that he was voted National League most valuable player, despite 1988 season numbers that were less than eye-popping: .290 batting average, 25 home runs, 76 runs batted in.

The thunderous roar of the Dodger Stadium crowd pushed adrenaline ahead of pain in Gibson’s mind, and after working the count full, he stepped out of the box. He recalled a scouting report from Mel Didier, who’d said Eckersley favored the backdoor slider on full counts.

Here came the slider, and there it went, deep to right field, deep into the night, driving a dagger deep into the hearts of the A’s, who never recovered from a 5-4 Game 1 loss. The underdog Dodgers won the series in five games, even though Gibson had only the one at-bat.

“The whole lesson of that is to keep fighting and fighting and fighting, and don’t predetermine your outcome, because that’s proof crazy things can happen,” Gibson said. “ ... We’re not very good, but we do compete. As bad as our record is, that’s the most encouraging thing I see.

“When we were playing Seattle [in May], I went through all nine positions, and we were overmatched at every one. But we competed our [rear ends] off. That’s the first step. In May there were maybe three games where we didn’t compete. That’s gonna happen, but that’s the part that is just unacceptable to me.”

Few had as much passion for the game as Gibson, who could not stomach losing; who, in his own words, “treated every game like a war,” and who played every night with a football player’s mentality.

“He was a hard-nosed player who ran out every ground ball,” said Dodger first-base coach John Shelby, a teammate on the 1988 Dodgers. “Every time he had a chance to break up a double play, we’d wait and see how far he would knock the shortstop or second baseman into the outfield.”

This is what Trammell, who teamed with Gibson to help the Tigers win the 1984 World Series, was looking for when he assembled his staff.

“We need toughness around here; we’re trying to find guys who are men, who will fight and grind,” said Trammell, who lured Gibson out of the Tigers’ television booth. “We’re not there yet, but we’re trying to plant some seeds.”

Gibson, however, is more iron fist than green thumb.

“He’s a motivator, to put it lightly,” Tiger catcher Brandon Inge said. “Not a day goes by where he doesn’t have 20 cups of coffee. He’s really energetic about the game, and he’s trying to give us the same feel he had when he played.

“If you miss a steal or a bunt sign or don’t hustle out a ball, he will let you know the second you get to the dugout, that that’s not the way the game should be played. There’s not a person on the team he hasn’t jumped on yet.”

It’s an odd juxtaposition in Detroit -- Gibson, one of baseball’s worst losers, a hothead who would often hurl his helmet after a strikeout, next to a group of Tigers who have virtually no chance of winning this season.

“I know there was a perception that I’d come here and be in eight fights by now,” Gibson said. “Look, I’m not trying to alienate these guys. We’re trying to make them grow, to get them to see how good they can be, individually and collectively.”

Patience, a word he knew nothing of as a player, has helped Gibson and losing coexist, for the time being.

“This is long range,” Gibson said, when asked how he handles losing. “Think of when you were 18 or 20 and how you’d react to adversity. You could be pretty brash, vocal, maybe act without thinking. Well, I’m 46 now, and if I just snap on somebody, you think that’s going to get it done? No. That’s where maturity and wisdom come in.”

One of Gibson’s first acts as a Dodger was to snap, and it added some crackle and pop to the 1988 season. The Dodgers, coming off two 73-89 seasons, signed Gibson as a free agent and some players thought they’d welcome the new guy with a prank, smearing eye-black on the inside of Gibson’s cap before the first Grapefruit League game.

“Even though it was our first exhibition game, that was like the World Series to me,” Gibson recalled. “They didn’t know that. That’s just the way I was. I was always on the field 35 minutes before the game, guys would be in [the clubhouse] screwing around and talking -- that bothered me. I was out there, ran and stretched, pulled my hat off and had eye-black all over me. I just snapped.”

Gibson screamed at Lasorda, insisting the manager “get the SOB who did this,” and stormed out of the park. Lasorda went to Gibson the next morning, trying to smooth things over.

“He said the Dodgers were very media conscious and they didn’t want this to blow up in their face, so they’d like to say a personal matter came up, I was excused and would be in the lineup today,” Gibson said. “He talked for about 20 minutes, I didn’t say a word, and at the end he said, ‘What do you think?’ I said, ‘No.’

“I told Tommy, ‘I’m gonna tell the truth,’ and that I wanted a team meeting that day. I can remember the way everyone was walking around thinking, ‘Man, this guy is crazy.’ [Reliever Jesse] Orosco finally came up and admitted he did it, and I explained to him that that won’t fly with me.

“When I talked to the team, I said, ‘You might have the wrong impression of me. I came here to be a world champion. I understand this might have been done because you wanted to have fun, but winning is fun to me. We’ve got to have more pride in what we do. Let’s get together, tighten the ship, get intense while we’re on the field and see how far we go.’ That was the start of it.”

Some felt the incident ignited a fire under the Dodgers, though the intensity of that flame is open to debate.

“We didn’t know Kirk -- the incident put into perspective what Kirk was about more than what that club was about,” said Angel Manager Mike Scioscia, the Dodger catcher in 1988. “It was almost a wake-up call -- ‘We’re good, but we have some things we need to focus on.’

“The incident brought that to our attention, but I don’t subscribe to the thought that Kirk came over and made our club play hard. We had played hard and experienced success before Kirk got there.”

The Dodgers experienced a lot more success after Gibson got there, winning the NL West, knocking off the heavily favored New York Mets in the league championship series and winning the World Series with a roster devoid of superstars, save for, perhaps, pitcher Orel Hershiser.

“We had Mickey Hatcher, John Shelby, Alfredo Griffin, Steve Sax, Franklin Stubbs ... all these names are great in my book, but if you threw them around, you could say we weren’t a world championship team,” Gibson said. “So why is it we were?

“We didn’t have overwhelming talent, but we were a team. We played together, had a lot of heart and determination, we were very motivated, a lot of guys sacrificed. That’s what we have to get these guys to understand [in Detroit].”

Despite the numbers, Gibson sees progress. Though the Tigers have a major league-low .218 batting average, they have a respectable 4.38 earned-run average and some promising young pitchers. Of their 44 losses, 21 were by two runs or fewer.

“Our strides are not really visible right now,” Gibson said, “but we are making strides.”

And what about Gibson? What is he striving for? His first goal is to help his good friend Trammell return the Tigers to respectability, and after that, he has his eye on a manager’s job, preferably in a place he is very familiar with: Los Angeles.

“When I thought about doing this job, you have to think, ‘Why am I doing it? What would be the next step?’ ” said Gibson, who remains close to former Dodger owner Peter O’Malley. “That’s the logical thing. If you were just playing fantasy, five or 10 years from now, what team would you want to manage? The Dodgers.

“Alan will be here forever; I hope he is. I have a lot to learn with what I’m doing now, and we’re learning together. It’s just another great challenge, one that energizes you. And I’m sure in five or 10 years, [Dodger Manager] Jim Tracy will probably be general manager by then.”

Staff writer Bill Shaikin contributed to this story.