Where There’s a Wills, There’s a Way : Dodgers Give Former Star Player Some Help and Get Some in Return

VERO BEACH, Fla. — Any jokes about last season’s Dodger offense are not in order. Even for Tom Lasorda’s pal, Don Rickles, they would be in bad taste.

So let us, with straight face, recite the sorry facts:

--The Dodgers were shut out 15 times, more than any other team in the majors.

--Their .244 team batting average tied Cincinnati’s for lowest in the majors.

--Their 580 runs scored were the fewest in the National League, as well as their worst total since 1968.

--No Dodger hit more than 21 home runs, had more than 72 runs batted in or stole more than 34 bases.

If this arsenal were the equivalent of the national defense, Caspar Weinberger would have quadrupled the budget--and maybe saved the Dodgers an MX missile or two for their lineup.

The Dodger had a different solution to this lack of power. They hired Jim Bush, a former track coach, and Maury Wills, a former base thief.

The Dodgers apparently are taking the approach that there’s more than one way to win a war. It’s an old philosophy they have revived from their past. It’s Dodger baseball, ‘60s style.

In those glory days, the Dodgers won pennants by turning the one-run victory into an art form. There was pitching by Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, and the counterpunching by Wills, who in 14 seasons stole 586 bases, 104 of them in 1962.

No one expects Steve Sax or Dave Anderson to become a modern-day Wills, but he Sultan of Swipe has been recruited to teach the 1985 Dodgers to run with a purpose, instead of out of terror.

So while Bush, the former UCLA track coach, takes players on conditioning excursions up the now notorious Hill, it also has become part of the daily routine here for Wills to work with the team on burnting, base-running and stealing.

“In essence, I’m trying to get them to play the way Maury Wills played,” Wills said the other day.

So far, he has been drawing rave reviews, although one of his sliding drills was cut short when Ralph Bryant, a prized outfield prospect, pulled a groin muscle.

“It’s not like he’s telling us something we didn’t already know, but he’s refreshing us,” said Bill Russell, who succeeded Wills as Dodger shortstop. “We have to score a few more runs, and to do that we’re obviously going to have to manufacture some.”

Sax and Anderson, Wills’ prize pupils, say they already see a difference.

“Maury is one of the best instructors I’ve ever worked with,” said Sax, whose stolen-base production declined by 22 last season. “He gets his message across very easily. He doesn’t pressure you.

“He’s working a lot with me on pitchers’ pickoff moves, knowing what to look for.”

The ways in which a base-runner can gain an edge on a pitcher are masked in subtlety. The slightest difference in the way a pitcher kicks his front leg, shifts the weight to his back leg, moves his hip, turns his shoulder, twists his head--all are clues for the discerning base-runner. for Wills, they often were an invitation to steal.

Anderson, who stole 15 bases in 20 attempts last season and is one of the fastest Dodgers, says the Dodgers can benefit from more aggressiveness.

“I don’t think we have as much power as we’ve had in the past, so we’ve got to find other ways to score runs,” he said. “Last season, we waited around for home runs, and the guys didn’t hit them. We didn’t steal, we didn’t sacrifice, we didn’t move the runner over from second base with nobody out. And we were in a lot of one-run games.”

For the record, the Dodgers were in 60 one-run games, more than any other National League team. Their record was 34-26, a .567 percentage that was bettered by only the Mets and Padres.

For Wills, his return to Vero Beach as an instructor represents more than an opportunity to share his expertise. Hie is himself a reclamation project, having developed a cocaine habit that led him at one point to consider suicide. Wills, a flop as manager of the Seattle Mariners--he was fired in 1981 after lasting 82 games--said he went into a deep depression afterward.

“I don’t know where the bottom is, but I was in the depths of darkness,” he said.

The Dodgers offered a way out. As Wills tells it, Fred Claire, the team’s executive vice president, and Don Newcombe, the team’s director of community relations, came to his house and bodily took him to a drug-rehabilitation clinic.

“The Dodgers have spent about $25,000 or $30,000 on my recovery,” he said. “And that was a time I wasn’t even with them. They didn’t owe me a thing, but they reached out and helped me. It was a long time before I accepted their help.”

Eventually, the Dodgers gave Wills, 52, a position in their community relations department. Then they asked him to be an instructor during winter workouts at Dodger Stadium. The invitation to come here followed.

“They didn’t have me back until long after I proved myself, that X amount of credibility was restored,” Wills said. “And it’s a test every day. They’ve made no commitments. If things work out well here, then I’ll work with the club in the regular season.

“But I’ll tell you this: It feels good to be productive again.”

It is the Dodgers’ hope that a productive Wills will help produce a more productive offense. The flag is up.