SCIOSCIA MANAGED TO WIN ON HIS TERMS.

Byline: KEVIN MODESTI

You remember Mike Scioscia from his decade as the Dodgers' catcher for the way he hung tough against charging base-runners, for the way he stood up to Doc Gooden with 1988 on the line, for the way his teammates celebrated his low center of gravity with the nickname ``Lumpy.''

There's a legend, probably true, about a time in 1985 at Dodger Stadium when Scioscia blocked home plate and was bulldozed by St. Louis' Jack Clark.

After reviving Scioscia, the Dodgers' trainer went through the usual tests of the dazed young man's mental faculties.

What's your name? Scioscia got that one right.

How many fingers? Scioscia got that one right.

Where are you? Scioscia said, ``McDonalds.''

A fellow does not maintain his low center of gravity without a single- minded devotion to proper nutrition.

It's all these years later, so many that the kids know Scioscia better as the Angels' manager than the Dodgers' catcher, and his steadfastness remains his calling card.

Without their unshakable manager, the Angels would not be where they are today, starting the American League playoffs against the Boston Red Sox in Anaheim with the right to dream of their second World Series championship in three seasons.

Even more than in 2002, Scioscia has been the lead tank guiding the Angels over rough terrain this season.

It began with the pressure turned up by owner Arte Moreno's off-season acquisitions of Vladimir Guerrero, Jose Guillen, Bartolo Colon and Kelvim Escobar for big money, which raised the Angels' payroll to No. 3 in baseball behind the Yankees and Red Sox.

First, Moreno had expressed his confidence in Scioscia by signing him to a contract extension in July 2003 that aims to keep him the Angels manager through 2008.

``Mike's a horse,'' Moreno said recently. ``He has a tremendous amount of experience. We're committed to Mike, and when we extended his contract, we gave him the responsibility of running the team.''

The 2003 season was a lost cause, with too many Angels injuries to overcome.

But 2004 only seemed that hopeless sometimes.

At one time or another, Scioscia saw the disabled list swallow third baseman Troy Glaus (who missed 96 games at his longest stretch) and Glaus' replacement Robb Quinlan (sidelined since Aug. 17); first baseman Darin Erstad (32 games); second baseman Adam Kennedy (out since Sept. 20); catcher Bengie Molina (13 games, then 19); center fielder Garret Anderson (43 games); designated hitter Tim Salmon (36 games, then the last 37); No. 2 starter Jarrod Washburn (six weeks), and relievers Troy Percival (five weeks between saves) and Brendan Donnelly (2 1/2 months). Team MVP Vladimir Guerrero had to fight through knee, wrist and left shoulder problems. David Eckstein battled a groin injury.

Scioscia stayed cool, calm, optimistic.

The Angels' bats ran dry after the team sprinted out to the best record in baseball on May 9. They scratched out only 13 runs in the first six games without Glaus. They started losing the close games in which they used to be so comfortable. Three days in Toronto saw games lost in the final innings on a botched rundown play and a botched play at the plate.

In July, the team went 11-16, dropping from first to third in the division standings, from 2 1/2 games in front to four games behind.

Scioscia stayed cool, calm, optimistic.

In the space of one week in September, things got desperate. Scioscia shook up his batting order, breaking up the World Series 1-2 combo of Eckstein and Erstad. Kennedy blew out his knee fielding a routine grounder up the middle. And the bargain signing of Guillen blew up on the second-to-last weekend of the season.

When Guillen exploded after being lifted from a game for a pinch-runner, committing some untold cardinal sins behind closed clubhouse doors, the left fielder was suspended for the rest of the season and postseason. It was a player vs. manager confrontation. The manager won a Pyrrhic victory.

Scioscia stayed cool, calm, optimistic.

Three games behind Oakland and all but eliminated from the wild-card race with nine games to play, why would Scioscia push the panic button then?

His stability should not be confused with stodginess. He is a burning competitor, evident on nights like the one when Seattle's Ryan Franklin beaned Guerrero and Scioscia screamed a threat to remove the pitcher's head from his body. Scioscia's taunt brought the Mariners to the top step of the dugout, ready for a fight, since separating Franklin's head from his body might have sidelined him through the start of the next spring training and hampered the team.

Scioscia seems to believe there is nothing to be gained from the displays of high and low emotion that his old Dodgers manager Tom Lasorda made famous.

Just stand firm and stay determined.

It worked against all those would-be run-scorers.

It worked against Gooden, touched for the playoff home run without which there would have been no Kirk Gibson.

It worked in Anaheim in 2004, when the Angels found a way in the final week of the season to reward their manager's steady optimism.