MVP AWARD ISN'T JUST ABOUT NUMBERS.

Byline: JOE HAAKENSON

He hit .290 with 25 home runs and 76 RBI. Are those numbers worthy of an MVP? Hardly, you say?

Those were Kirk Gibson's numbers in 1988, when he won the National League MVP playing for the Dodgers. Granted, power numbers then were down in comparison to today's lively ball, pitching-diluted era. Nevertheless, there were players that year who hit for a higher average, hit more home runs and drove in more.

But was he the MVP? Check out the World Series trophy in the Dodger Stadium offices and that should answer the question.

This year, the Great MVP Debate centers around Texas Rangers shortstop Alex Rodriguez. His numbers are the best in the American League. His team is in last place.

What defines an MVP is the real question here, and you'll get a different answer from one observer to the next.

In Anaheim, Garret Anderson and Darin Erstad play alongside each other in the Angels' outfield. Ask Anderson who the MVP is, and he'll tell you Rodriguez, hands down, because of his numbers across the board. Ask Erstad, and he'll tell you it's Oakland's Miguel Tejada. Where would the A's be without him, Erstad asks.

Those who feel Rodriguez is the MVP say it's not his fault the Rangers don't have any pitching. That he shouldn't be ``penalized'' for playing on a poor team.

But he's not being ``penalized.'' What a player does to push his team to the top is simply part of the equation when voting for the MVP. It's not a requirement, but it helps.

There are some things that define an MVP that go beyond the numbers. In 1988, Gibson blew a fuse in spring training when Jesse Orosco put eyeblack in his cap and it smeared across his forehead.

Gibson made it clear he wasn't there to fool around. He was there to win. Despite a team that many said lacked talent compared to other contenders, the Dodgers won it all.

Tejada has gained support for MVP because he has combined good numbers with on-field leadership that has helped carry the A's to the brink of the playoffs. Late in the A's 20-game winning streak, Tejada won back-to-back games with game-winning hits. One was a three-run homer, when the club trailed by two. The other was an RBI single when the game was tied and there was a runner on second.

Tejada also assumed the No. 3 spot in the A's batting order in place of Jason Giambi, who left to sign with the Yankees. Giambi was the heart and soul of the A's, and Tejada has rendered Giambi's departure almost meaningless.

And even when you compare Tejada's numbers to Rodriguez's, they're not that much different. Ask any manager what's most important for a hitter, and he'll say run production. Runs produced is runs scored, plus RBI, minus home runs. Through Friday, Rodriguez had 201, Tejada 194.

Tejada also has hit in the clutch, batting .367 with runners in scoring position, the same as Rodriguez.

There are other contenders for the award, like Alfonso Soriano of the Yankees and Anderson. Anderson has had a big second half, hitting .337 since the All-Star break and providing quiet leadership with a steady and consistent approach. Soriano is approaching inclusion into the exclusive 40-homer, 40-stolen-base club, providing power and speed.

And both have had a lot to do with their teams' success.

As for Rodriguez, he has a chance knowing that Andre Dawson won the award on a last-place Cubs team in 1987. And three others - Ernie Banks in 1958 and '59, Cal Ripken in 1991 and Barry Bonds in 1993 - won the award while playing for teams with losing records.

But precedent has been set the other way, too. Mark McGwire hit 70 homers in 1998 and didn't win, losing out to Sammy Sosa, whose Cubs went to the playoffs that year.

Rodriguez is a great player having a great individual season. But MVP? He's a close second.