FOR GIANTS' REED, SON SHINES BRIGHTLY.

Byline: KAREN CROUSE

There are worse trials in life than pitching at Coors Field and Candlestick Point night in and night out. Former Chatsworth High standout Steve Reed, who has called both places home during a seven-year major-league career, used to immerse himself in children's charities, the better to remember that the altitude of Denver and the gales that whip through the San Francisco Bay are nothing next to some other adversaries.

The reliever remains a regular visitor to children's hospital wards. Lately, knock on wood, it hasn't been to look in on his own flesh and blood. The second son of Reed and his wife Terry was born in September of 1996 with Achondroplasia, a form of dwarfism that afflicts roughly 1 out of every 25,000 babies born in the United States. Over the past 21 months Logan Reed has made more trips to the emergency room than his dad has to the mound.

The Reeds' youngest child had trouble breathing for the longest time, the result of an underdeveloped rib cage that limited how much his lungs were able to expand. In the first year of Logan Reed's life, Steve's days were one continuous loop, from the ballpark to the hospital to home.

Compared to the rest of his day, pitching was a relief. Reed was exhausted most of the time but his statistics were nothing to yawn at. In 1997, he was one of only two pitchers on the Rockies staff who managed more innings pitched than hits allowed. He finished with a 4.04 ERA in 63 appearances which, while not as impressive as his statistics each of the three previous years, wasn't half bad considering 31 of his 62 innings came in the cinder box of oxygen-deprived Coors Field, where hitters routinely catch fire.

To Reed's surprise, the Rockies let him become a free agent over the winter rather than offer him arbitration at some $1.8 million. To someone whose life already was fraught with complications, the prospect of having to either uproot Logan from his doctors or extricate himself from his wife and two children for half the year was daunting indeed to Reed.

It helped that shortly after Reed's agents put out feelers, they found themselves fielding four concrete offers. Having options was a godsend to Reed, who said, ``Without a doubt, my son's situation was one of the most important considerations in where I went.''

He wasted little time making a decision, signing with the Giants, with whom he had started his major-league career in 1992, four days into his free agency. Being only an hour's plane ride from his parents in Chatsworth was a plus, as was the easy availability of top-notch medical care. Reed also felt an affinity for manager Dusty Baker.

And besides, the Dodgers never called.

It's funny what happens when you let yourself lean into life's blind curves instead of stubbornly trying to straighten the road. The move, which at first seemed an onerous proposition, has proved providential. Logan has responded wonderfully to the climate in the Bay Area, to the point where he now requires his tank of liquid oxygen only at night instead of being dependent on it at all times.

As for the mutant gene that causes dwarfism, Reed never would have wished it upon his son but now can honestly say it has been a blessing.

``He's changed our lives in the most amazing ways,'' Reed said Wednesday before the Giants' interleague game against the Angels. ``He has brought us closer together as a family.''

Logan's presence has driven home to Reed what really matters and it's not striking out the clean-up hitter in the ninth to preserve a win, not even if it's the seventh game of the World Series.

``Two years ago, I thought I was a pretty good guy,'' Reed said. ``I was involved in charities and I spent time at the children's hospitals and I thought my eyes were opened to what really is important. Then Logan was born and my priorities changed. Baseball takes a back seat somewhat. I'm not going to live and die over the game. In the grand scheme of things, I know that hanging a few sliders, even though it bothers me, is not a life-and-death thing. I don't bring it home with me anymore.''

It's funny, too, how the minute you stop bleeding over the results, there doesn't seem to be much cause for hemorrhaging. Reed went into Wednesday's game with a 1.93 ERA over 42 innings in 38 games. Set-up men generally get little support when the time comes to fill out the All-Star rosters. But you won't find Reed reeling from his exclusion from Tuesday's midseason classic at Coors Field.

Truth be told, it's a blessing that he's getting a few days off when he is, during the Little People of America Conference in Woodland Hills. All the best doctors in the field of dwarfism will be there, and so, too, will Reed, his wife and their sons. Baker, sympathetic to Reed's situation, has given the pitcher permission to miss the Giants' exhibition game in Fresno two days after the All-Star game to take care of this vital piece of family business.

When Baker broke into the majors, in Atlanta in 1968, the traveling secretary was a dwarf. He was one of the finest men Baker has known. One day, Baker will tell Reed all about how the late Donald Davidson enriched the lives of everyone he met.

Baker was reminded of Davidson the other day when he saw Reed's 4-year-old son Dylan and Logan at the ballpark. ``A lovable little man,'' is how Baker described Logan.

Reed prefers ``a little miracle.''

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PHOTO (Color) ``I thought my eyes were opened to what is really important. Then Logan was born and my priorities changed. I'm not going to live and die over the game.''

--- Giants pitcher Steve Reed

referring to his son Logan, who has been afflicted by a form of dwarfism