LEAVE IT TO WEAVER PITCHING SENSATION REACHES MAJOR PROPORTIONS ALREADY.

Byline: Billy Witz Staff Writer

It's nearly a half hour before Long Beach State pitcher Jered Weaver will throw his first pitch in the bullpen, but already a crowd of about two dozen men and boys are strung hip-to-hip along a waist-high fence down the left-field line.

They stand mostly silently, these scouts, high school ballplayers and curiosity seekers who have arrived at UC Riverside, ready not just to observe a phenomenon but to see if they can absorb one.

They will watch him pitch that night, but that is not enough.

Their eyes are fixed on Weaver as he unfolds and stretches his long, elastic body, pulling his limbs this way and that. They follow Weaver, his shirt tail untucked and his baggy pant legs hugging his shoe tops, as he jogs in the outfield - first forward, then backward and finally sideways, swiveling his hips left and right.

The eyes continue to move with Weaver when he takes his glove in his right hand - gripping it as if it were a baseball - and repeatedly simulates his pitching motion.

This whole routine goes on for 20 minutes when, sufficiently loose to begin throwing a baseball, Weaver reaches back over his head to remove his warm-up pullover. When he reveals only the long-sleeved shirt he wears under his jersey, one scout breaks the silence by calling over to another.

``Where's the 'S'?'' he asks.

If Superman wore a cap instead of a cape, he would probably look a lot like Jered Weaver these days.

The Simi Valley native was named Collegiate Baseball's Player of the Year on Thursday and is a finalist for the Golden Spikes Award, the top award for amateur baseball. He spent Saturday trying to pitch Long Beach State toward the College World Series and is expected to be one of the first few picks Monday in the Major League Baseball Draft, perhaps even going first overall to the San Diego Padres.

Until getting knocked around by Miami in his final regular-season start last week - his first defeat since last June - Weaver led college pitchers in victories, earned-run average, strikeouts per nine innings and superlatives.

But that is less a summation than a start.

When Weaver struck out the first 10 batters he faced against USC in February, Long Beach State coach Mike Weathers called it a once-in-a-lifetime performance. Then, three weeks later, Weaver did the same thing against Brigham Young.

Whereas most pitchers strive for a strikeout-to-walk ratio of 2 to 1, Weaver has struck out 193 batters and walked just 18 - a ratio of nearly 11 to 1.

``It's like softball stats,'' said former Long Beach State coach Dave Snow, now a scout for the Rockies.

If Weaver is setting a generational standard for excellence on the field, what he's done beyond the lines is just as noteworthy. He's created a buzz that has transcended the insular (and often ignored) world of college baseball.

There are autographed Weaver jerseys, caps and cards for sale on eBay and he's been profiled in Sports Illustrated and USA Today. And why else, other than Weaver, would Leonardo DiCaprio watch Lakers playoff games sporting a Long Beach State cap?

``It's a strange situation,'' said Weaver's older brother Jeff, who pitches for the Dodgers. ``I open every magazine and he's in there and they throw my picture to the side.''

Although most college baseball games in Southern California draw a few hundred fans and would qualify as a good place to do some light reading, he turned Blair Field, the quaint 3,000-seat stadium where Long Beach State plays, into a hot spot when he stepped to the mound on Friday nights.

The stadium was at least three-quarters full for his starts, packing in about 800 more than Long Beach State did in its other home games. Among that number were the bouncy blondes holding up the ``Leave it to Weaver'' signs and the liquored-up Left field Loonies - stationed, naturally, down the right-field line - who chanted ``Wea-ver, Wea-ver,'' after each strikeout.

When Weaver faced rival Cal State Fullerton at home in the final Big West Conference series two weeks ago, the game was sold out 24 hours before the first pitch, leaving some scouts to wait in a line for standing- room-only tickets.

``It's a mad house,'' Long Beach State first baseman Mike Hofius said of the atmosphere on Friday nights. ``Everybody's cheering Weaver, you've got all the K's hanging on the railing. It's almost like the regionals. It's pretty awesome.''

It's not a bad road show, either, where Weaver's starts drew season- high, overflow crowds at Cal State Fullerton and Cal Poly San Luis Obispo.

It is why, on a recent night in Riverside, there are people not content to watch him pitch or throw in the bullpen. They must see him stretch.

When he does begin to throw off the bullpen mound, the spectators' zero in. While scouts watch impassively, Brian Boegel, who drove in from Palm Springs with his high school teammates, is in awe.

``Oh, my God,'' he says, contemplating the thought of trying to hit a fastball that pops the catcher's glove a few feet away.

In the nearly 40 minutes Weaver spends preparing for this start, not once does he look over, let alone acknowledge, anything beyond the fence.

``I'm just out there to play baseball,'' Weaver said later when asked about the eyes that follow him. ``The attention is great to bring people out to games. It gives other people on my team a chance to shine.

``It's different - I pretty much knew stuff like this was going to happen - but I don't let it get to my head. It's great if people want to watch me, but I don't think of myself as any different than anybody else.''

Such an outlook is not only appreciated, but demanded at Long Beach State, where the team's unofficial but omnipresent nickname, the Dirtbags, suggests a proletariat bent.

Weaver, universally described as a good teammate, was sensitive enough to the poverty he saw in the Dominican Republic last summer while playing for Team USA that he left his tennis shoes behind.

Dave and Gail Weaver exposed their two boys to sports, but never emphasized them. That Jeff has earned millions allowed Dave to retire from his electrical contracting business a year ago and Gail to give up her job at a Simi Valley middle school cafeteria this month.

It hasn't changed much else. The Weavers still live in the same house they bought in 1979.

``Thanks to Jeff, now all I do is follow baseball and hit a golf ball,'' Dave said. ``If you told me 20 years ago this is what my life would be like I'd have said you're crazy.''

Asked if he sees Jered, as an impending millionaire, treated any differently, Dave laughed.

``He still gets parking tickets like anyone else,'' he said. ``And looking at his grades, I don't think he's getting any leeway.''

What has changed, though, is Weaver's relationship with his brother.

``I was out of the house in college at 17 years old and he was 11,'' Jeff said. ``We never really had the closeness as far as being able to hang out and do things together until baseball became pretty much the focus of both of our lives. We've really become a lot closer in the last four or five years than we were in the previous 15.''

The brothers talk several times a week and with Jeff's trade from the New York Yankees to the Dodgers this winter, his younger brother is able to see some of his starts. When his season has ended the past few years, Jered spent a week to 10 days hanging out with his brother, learning what a major-leaguer's life is like.

That included last summer in New York, where Jeff's struggles invited boos and the wrath of backpage headline writers. Jered, sitting in the stands, wasn't deaf - or blind.

``It's a different country, pretty much, New York,'' Jered said. ``Those guys love their baseball out there and they don't like to see their team lose. When there's a player that's not doing what they're supposed to be doing, they let them know. It's hard to wear those pinstripes, man. If you're doing bad, they let you know about it.''

If it wasn't a pleasant lesson, it was a valuable one, his brother said.

``You don't want your brother hearing people talk bad about you, but he's got an idea of how hard the game can be sometimes,'' Jeff said. ``Right now, he's riding a wave of success and you want to do that until the very end, but sometime he knows he's going to come back to reality. Right now, he's pretty much the man among boys and soon enough he's going to be the boy among men. He understands that.''

At the moment, everything about Weaver seems super-sized. At 6-foot-7, he can't help standing out - quite literally - from his teammates. His blond hair is so big and bushy, his cap struggles to contain it, giving him the look of a latter day Mark Fydrich. And then, of course, there are the oversized numbers and commensurate attention.

Yet, if Weaver is viewed as larger than life, it is because he has mastered the art of thinking small.

Ask him to explain the foundation of his stunning consistency - be it his mechanics, location, effort or performance - and the answer sounds like the product of a 12-step program: one pitch at a time.

``We really work on how to do that,'' said Ken Ravizza, a sports psychologist who has worked with Long Beach State players for more than a decade. ``When you've got your 'A' game, it's pretty simple to pitch. But when you have your 'C' game, then you really need it.''

Weaver said of this approach: ``I really took it to heart and I think it gives me an edge on other people. It's helped me a lot on the mound. I get the ball back and if I miss my spot with the last pitch, I think about what I can do to improve mechanically for a second and then go right into the next pitch.''

One pitch at a time, though, goes beyond a pitch sequence. It means attention to detail in the weight room, where Weaver has gained nearly 30 pounds (he now weighs 205) that have turned him into a power pitcher.

It means getting the most out of his workouts between starts, where he's developed the consistency and the endurance that have polished him.

``He came here with an average work ethic, I'd say,'' said Buckley, the pitching coach. ``Everything came easy. But Jered learned to work.''

Buckley is asked frequently if he saw this coming when Weaver arrived. Weaver didn't make All-Southern Section at Simi Valley High but Jeff, by then in the big leagues, was a late bloomer, too, and if baseball people believe in anything, it's good genes. Cal State Fullerton was among the schools that wanted Jered just as badly.

``I'll bet there were some parents who saw him play in high school who couldn't believe he got a Division I scholarship to a major school,'' Buckley said. ``But we're not always looking at performance, we're looking at projection. What we saw, and we weren't the only ones, is a guy with a huge upside.''

When Weaver toes the pitching rubber, his hips thrust slightly forward, he brings the glove and ball together just below eye level and takes a deep breath to relax. Then, as if he's peering through a knothole, he looks in for catcher Brad Davis' sign.

When he's ready, Weaver steps to the side with his left foot, pivots on his right, drops his hands in his lap and rotates his hips toward center field. At this point, the batter is left with a very good view of the number 36 on the back of Weaver's jersey.

In an instant those limbs will uncoil and from someplace that seems equidistant from Weaver's right ear and third base a baseball comes hurtling out.

Weaver's fastball sits consistently in the low 90s, but there are others whose ball carries another gear. His slider has some break to it, but it doesn't make a left turn on its way to the plate. Neither does his changeup look as if it's thrown on a 59-foot leash.

Sit behind home plate and it doesn't quite resemble the Chicago Cubs' Mark Prior, the former USC phenom with whom Weaver is most often compared. Stand in the batter's box and it's another story.

``It's really, really hard to pick up the ball,'' UC Riverside's Matt Cunningham said after striking out four times against Weaver. ``He's so tall and with the long arms and the way he turns his body, the ball basically comes out of nowhere. Hey, if you can't see it, you can't hit it.''

Mix deception with impeccable command - the ability to throw any pitch in any spot: up, down, in or out - and you have something.

``I don't think his stuff is electric,'' Pacific coach Ed Sprague, a former big-leaguer, said after Weaver struck out a career-high 17 against his team. ``But his command makes it electric.''

UC Irvine coach John Savage, who tutored Prior and Oakland's Barry Zito at USC, said: ``He's going to be a legit big-league pitcher. Anybody can sit here and say that. The biggest thing is staying there and pitching a long time. The question is the same for all those right-handed starters: Can you get five, six, seven left-handed hitters out. That becomes a whole new challenge.''

Weaver has rarely picked up a baseball this year without someone from the San Diego Padres there to document it.

A different week usually brings out a different series of eyes - from area scouts to cross checkers to scouting director Bill Gayton and general manager Kevin Towers. Weaver has taken a personality test for the Padres and the club has had preliminary talks with his adviser, agent Scott Boras, who also represents Jeff.

``I don't think there's anything we don't know about him,'' Towers said. ``And there's not a lot not to like. There's no red flags.''

That doesn't necessarily mean the Padres will give Weaver the green light. The decision will be up to Gayton, who has narrowed his choices to three players: Weaver, Rice pitcher Jeff Niemann and Florida State shortstop Stephen Drew.

If the Padres want a pitcher, they have two ways to play it:Safe with Weaver, who many believe will be in the major leagues by next season and be a productive No. 2 or 3 starter for years. Or take a high risk/high reward flier on Niemann, who is 6-9, 260 pounds with an upper-90s fastball but lacks Weaver's polish and has fought injuries.

The safest way to play it, though, is not to spend a high draft pick on a pitcher, and Drew, the brother of Braves' outfielder J.D. Drew, is the one the Padres are believed to be leaning toward. That could leave Weaver to the Tigers, who originally chose his brother, or the Mets, who have regularly had scouts at his games. Tampa Bay and Milwaukee pick after that.

Towers said the presence of the notoriously demanding Boras, who also represents Drew, would not influence his decision. As for a frame of reference, Prior received a deal worth $10 million as the No. 2 pick in 2001.

``We're not going to be scared off because of an adviser,'' Towers said. ``We have a budget and we'll be fair.''

Although his teammates occasionally rib the future millionaire, Weaver says he's spent little time worrying about the draft. He acknowledges his goal has been to follow his brother to the big leagues and this is an exciting step. ``But my focus is on getting to Omaha,'' he said, referring to the College World Series in Nebraska - something neither he nor his brother have done.

If he gets to Omaha and the big leagues, it will be just the way he's come this far: One pitch at a time.

Billy Witz, [phone]

billy.witz(at)dailynews.com

CAPTION(S):

3 photos, 2 boxes

Photo:

(1 -- color) Long Beach State and former Simi Valley High pitcher Jered Weaver likely will be among the top picks in the MLB Draft. His approach is to go one pitch at a time.

Gus Ruelas/Staff Photographer

(2 -- color) WEAVER FILE

(3) The presence of Jered Weaver at Long Beach State home games has translated to an extra 800 fans in the stands at 3,000-seat Blair Field than in games he doesn't pitch.

Stephen Carr/Staff Photographer

Box:

(1) WEAVER FILE

(2) 2004 STATISTICS