FOUR YEARS MAKE A WORLD OF DIFFERENCE FOR BUSTOS.

Byline: STEVE DILBECK

It was a dusty road that appeared to lead nowhere, a winding asphalt trail that seemed destined for some obscure border crossing into Mexico.

The sun beat down hard on the remote training camp that summer afternoon four years ago, and a couple of hours later when I turned the car around to head home, I thought what a miserable long drive it had been for the worst sports interview of my life.

Crystl Bustos could stare down the fiercest softball pitchers in the world, but wilted at the sight of pen and notepad.

A lion on the field, a church mouse off it, Bustos seemed pained to put a couple sentences together, uncomfortable anywhere but with bat in hand.

A person who four years later has absolutely vanished from the face of the Earth.

Who has evolved into a relaxed, pleasant, confident young woman. Who enjoys interacting with people, not shying away from them.

The Crystl Bustos of 2004 is actually talkative. She has morphed into this delightful personality. Almost bubbles as her words run together.

It's an amazing transformation. It began almost unnoticeably at first. She spoke to youth groups, and to her great surprise, gradually discovered she enjoyed it. She matured naturally, and sometimes out of need, growing as she learned to accept the death of her grandparents.

Four years later, she is out of her shell and very much at ease with people, and pens and notepads.

``I've opened up a little more,'' she said. ``I just started talking. I was a lot younger back then. I was shy, really didn't like to talk. Now I've been doing a lot of speaking engagements in front of kids, in front of big groups, which has made it easier to talk to reporters.

``It's actually helped me in that I don't hold a whole lot in anymore. I just release it all and it comes out.

``I feel so much better. I'm 10 times happier now than I was before. Everything seems to be going well. I don't have any worries.''

Suddenly oratory comes as easily as crushing softballs, which never has been a problem for Canyon Country's Bustos.

The third baseman has become the most feared offensive weapon on the most feared team in the world. Last year the powerfully-built Bustos led USA softball with 44 RBI and added 11 home runs.

In 2000 she was 22 and a relatively new member on a veteran team. Her roommate was the effusive Dot Richardson, whose outgoing personality only seemed to underscore Bustos' reticence.

Yet Bustos said that was as much who she was then, as the openness is real today.

``One thing I've always been is me,'' she said. ``I've been straight up with everyone. Everyone here is true. We don't have to put up a front for anyone.

``When Dot was around with all that energy, that was Dot. She had energy from the minute she woke up until the minute she went back to sleep. And that was like late at night. She made me feel old. I'm like, `Dot, it's 12:30, you have to go to sleep.' And she's, `Just one more movie, just one more movie.' Then she would get up and do the same thing the next day. She had that much energy.''

That Olympic team was heavily favored to win a second consecutive gold medal, not that the experience in Sydney was without personal trial for Bustos.

Her grandmother, Bertha Castro, died eight months before leaving for Australia. Then shortly after arriving in Sydney, she learned in a phone call her ill grandfather, Santos Castro, had also passed away.

With both parents working, her grandparents had helped raise her. The news hit hard.

``It was difficult to lose those two because they were basically like my parents,'' she said. ``I grew up with them. I didn't know anything different. They lived with me. They were around for me all the time. When I had to make a big decision, my folks and grandparents helped me make that decision. It wasn't just me.''

That USA team rallied to win the gold medal in Sydney, her most indelible moment coming after the team captured the final game and rushed on the field. Bustos looked up and spotted the team's three alternates applauding over the fence.

``We ran into the outfield and there were our alternates standing right there,'' she said. ``So I pulled them over the fence. They're still part of the team. That was the most exciting thing, because they got to share that experience with us.''

Back in the U.S., she began giving a few motivational talks to youth and senior groups. Slowly she became more comfortable, even learning to enjoy it.

``It definitely opened me up a lot and got me used to talking to people,'' she said. ``It was all gradual. I did a couple speaking engagements the first year. That opened it up for more and more, and I was getting used to it. I'm still a little nervous when I first start, but once you get me going, now you can't get me to stop.''

When Bustos walked into Doug Fisher's Line Drive Academy in Valencia early last year interested in a hitting instructor position, there was no longer a hint of a timid Olympian.

``Never seen a shy side of her,'' Fisher said. ``And I've never met a better person in my life. I've never seen someone come to work with a smile every day. We all have bad days, but you'd never know she was having one. She's pretty amazing.''

Fisher said her students come from all over, including UCLA, to learn from her. Fisher said he's had four previous major leaguers working at his hitting school, but Bustos was the one instructor no one ever cancelled on.

``Her draw was unbelievable,'' he said. ``Then sometimes she would get in line-drive contests with us after work, and there would be two or three major-league guys in there hitting, and she'd win.''

Bustos admits she wonders what it would be like to go from softball to trying out for the majors.

``Somebody will try it,'' she said. ``I may try it just to try it. But I would have to train.''

For now, there is a third consecutive gold medal to win. Bustos returns in 2004, if not one of the older players, certainly one of the team's veterans. From quiet teammate to potential leader.

Bustos, however, is hardly ready to make any bold proclamations.

``Leadership is not something you just take, it's something given to you by the players you work with,'' she said. ``You can't ask or demand leadership.

``It's like a wolf. A wolf is given that respect in the long run from the pack. If I'm here for the next one and people want me in that leadership role, then I guess I have to play that role. I just have to be doing what I've been doing for them to look at me like that.''

For Bustos, a long road that has led to a peaceful place.