BIT PLAYERS; ROLES DON'T ALWAYS MEASURE UP TO AN ATHLETE'S REVERIES.

Byline: Steve Dilbeck Staff Writer

These aren't the guys who grab the headlines. They don't pull down the millions, bask in constant adulation, know the easy road anywhere.

They hang on by fingernails. They learn to get back up, to persevere, to believe in themselves when no one else will.

They're the last guys on the roster, carving out a role, adjusting their dream. And playing major-league baseball into their 30s.

Every baseball team has one, maybe more. Guys who have spent seeming lifetimes in the minors, might have played in Japan or Mexico, been with more organizations than they should have to remember.

They aren't the glory boys but the supporting players. They play in the shadows, their tenuous careers always one unwanted phone call away from another setback.

``A lot of people say, `This guy's been in the minor leagues all these years,' '' Angels outfielder Reggie Williams said. ``You know what? I have been, but I've been playing baseball.

``It would be the same if I was playing up here the whole time. The only difference is financial. Otherwise, I've had a great career - I've been playing.''

As youngsters they dreamed of becoming superstars, or at least starters in the majors. They emulated Reggie Jackson, Steve Garvey, Nolan Ryan, Frank Robinson. Kids don't dream of one day becoming Reggie Williams, but the major-league landscape is dotted with career role players.

``I'm the guy who had the dream,'' Dodgers outfielder Trenidad Hubbard said. ``When I was growing up in Chicago, I was Rick Monday and Jose Cardenal and Ernie Banks. I knew that's what I wanted to do, play baseball in a big stadium. I didn't know that for the most part, it's a struggle to get up here. Sometimes an even harder struggle to stay there.''

Hubbard, 33, has been released, waived and traded. He's spent almost 12 of his 14 years in professional baseball in the minor leagues. It took him 8-1/2 years before he got his first call to the big leagues. In one three-year stretch, he was with four different organizations.

``I never once considered giving it up, because the dream was still alive,'' Hubbard said. ``I've rehearsed for these days for 8-1/2 years. I try to enjoy every second I'm up here. I come out here with a sense of awe from playing in the major leagues. My dream in essence has come true. But I'm still dreaming it's going to get better.''

THE CONSTANT DREAD

Wendy Huson can laugh at it now. She had been at this a long time to have been caught so off guard. The wife of Angels infielder Jeff Huson can tell more hard-luck stories than she'd like to admit. Jeff, 34, has been with seven different organizations, five in the past four years.

But last season he had won a job in camp with the Mariners and Wendy started making summer plans in the Northwest and Canada with their three children.

``We kind of had our lives planned for a change, but I should have known better,'' Wendy said. ``Then he called and said, `I've been released.'

``No matter how many times it happens, your heart still kind of drops. You get that pit in your stomach, because it's disappointing. He's just worked so hard to stay in the big leagues. For the last three spring trainings, he's gone as a nonroster player, had to go out every single day and be at his peak.

``Guys that have been in the majors a long time or have long-term contracts, they don't really understand that. Basically, they're going to spring training to work out. But Jeff is having to compete for a job, every single year. There's so much pressure on him, I can feel that pressure, too. I try to keep things calm, but sometimes it's very difficult. It's that uncertainty thing. That is the hardest part. It's just not knowing what's going to happen with our lives from year to year to year.''

Their wives never know what the next phone call might bring. They have to bounce around the country, too, suffer through the constant highs and lows.

Baseball's fringe players have been knocked around throughout their careers. Security just isn't part of the package. A summons to the manager's office could be innocuous or life-changing.

``You want a manager to talk to you at your locker, not in the office,'' Hubbard said.

Jeff Huson has had his share of unwanted summons. And more than once he has considered calling it a career.

``I can't count on one hand the times I said I'm not playing anymore,'' he said. ``What really aggravates me is, people think everyone is a millionaire. And that's not the case. They don't realize how hard it is sometimes.''

For much of four seasons in the early '90s, Huson was the starting shortstop with the Rangers. Then came a series of injuries. He spent all of 1993 in the minors.

``Finally in '94, after a series of injuries - rotator-cuff tear, knee surgery, toe surgery, you-name-it surgery - I got released,'' he said.

He signed with the Orioles in the offseason but couldn't make their roster out of spring.

``He ended up spending about three months in the minor leagues and was really starting to get frustrated,'' Wendy said. ``Then he got the phone call - he got called up again.

``That really turned things around. It gave him hope that, `Yes, I can still do this. Somebody still has faith in me.' I can remember very distinctly that phone call, where he's like, `I got called up again. We're going to be fine.' ''

A DIFFERENT ROAD

Every player who has made a career out of being one of the last guys on the roster can look back and remember a moment in their careers with unwanted clarity. Whether it then felt like a slight detour or a momentous career turn, it now feels very fresh.

Texas infielder Jon Shave made it to the majors in his fourth season. He was hitting .319 when invited into the manager's office.

``I remember the first time I was sent down,'' Shave said. ``I had come up and done a very good job. It just so happens, somebody comes off the DL and there goes my spot. At that time I was 24, and it was a lot easier to accept, because you think you're going to come back. It took me probably five years to come back.'' When Shave finally made it back last season, it was with Minnesota. Then the Twins waived him in the offseason. He was claimed by the Rangers and has been with them all this season, though he knows it could all change in an instant.

``That's always in the back of your mind a little bit,'' Shave said. ``But at the same time, I've had a lot of things happen in my life, where that wouldn't be do or die. I mean, this game is great, it's my livelihood, but believe me, life would go on. ``I've had a number of injuries, I've been through a divorce, I've had family members die. Things like that make you realize, and as you get older, that this game is not the most important thing in the world and it makes it easier to deal with.''

A SUCCESS STORY

A tiny percentage of players spend an eternity in the minors and then become regulars in the majors. Maury Wills did it with the Dodgers in the '60s. Reliever Billy Taylor spent 14 years in the minor leagues with 11 different organizations before making it to the majors and becoming the closer for the A's.

Lee Stevens had taken his own circuitous route to success. Stevens was once a No. 1 draft pick of the Angels, but by 1996 he had been released by three different teams, spent two years playing in Japan and seemed far from achieving major-league success when he agreed to play for the Rangers' Triple-A team in Oklahoma City.

``It never got me down,'' Stevens said. ``I was still playing the game. That's all I ever wanted to do, was to play.

``Never once did it cross my mind to stop playing. I knew if I kept playing, eventually it would come together. And that's basically what happened.''

The first baseman hit 32 home runs for Oklahoma City and in 1997 became the Rangers' regular first baseman. He hit more than 20 homers in each of the past two seasons for Texas.

``I've been lucky, in a roundabout, up-and-down way,'' Stevens said. ``I think that makes it more rewarding. I've been through every emotional roadblock, physical roadblock. I've been to the bottom and everywhere in between. Everywhere from playing absolutely terrible baseball, to last year being in the clubhouse with these guys celebrating the Western championship.''

THE LIMELIGHT'S CALL

Williams was never anyone's No. 1 draft pick. He was taken on the 25th round by the Giants. He's played in an independent league in Idaho and for Monterey in the Mexican League.

``I slept in a hotel where the room didn't have a window,'' Williams said.

Huson had to walk on to his JC team in Arizona. He never was drafted. He was first signed by Montreal out of a semipro league. He worked one offseason for the Expos' Single-A team in West Palm Beach, Fla., answering the phones and selling tickets.

Williams, Huson, Hubbard, Shave, and countless more like them have had to fight for every small opportunity. Their adulthood has been a constant battle to keep their careers alive.

They could have chosen a career path with a more traditional lifestyle - two of Huson's brothers and a sister-in-law are accountants - but none has any second thoughts. No matter if they're not household names and millionaires.

``I'm not going to let anyone upset my joy at being blessed to play in the major leagues,'' Williams said. ``A lot of people would give their left arm to be in the major leagues.

``Hey, everybody can't be a star, everybody can't be a home run hitter, everybody can't be a base stealer. You have to find the happiness in being here, which I find all the time. It's easy for me - I love to play.

``You want to belong somewhere. You're not looking for money. You just kind of want a home.'''

These players make adjustments. They downsize their ambition. If they still believe they could be effective everyday players, they learn to fill a role - a switch hitter off the bench, defensive replacement, spot starter. Maybe it's not the original dream, but it's still playing at a rare level.

``I can't look at my career as disappointing,'' Shave said. ``There are a lot of people who had to settle for this. In our situation, I obviously feel very good being part of a team. And I do have a role. It might not be called upon a lot, but I do have a role, and that's fine with me.

``This is something I grew up my whole life wanting to do. I'm playing baseball in the major leagues. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

``It is a good life and I'm sure it's said all the time, but I honestly, sincerely mean it when I say, I don't play this for the money. I swear I don't. I'd play for no money.''

CAPTION(S):

3 Photos

PHOTO (1--Color) The Dodgers' Trenidad Hubbard has spent almost 12 of his 14 years in pro baseball in the minors.

Kent Horner/Associated Press

(2--Color) Angel Jeff Huson, 34, has been with seven different baseball organizations in his career.

Eric Risberg/Associated Press

(3) Jeff Huson of the Angels admits he has thought about quitting many times. The ups and downs of his baseball career have been tough on his wife, too.

Michael Caulfield/Associated Press