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Thursday, Feb. 24, 2000 | 1:56 a.m.

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Little Unit, big promise

Scripps Howard News Service

Must credit the News Tribune in Tacoma, Wash.

By LARRY LARUE

Tacoma News Tribune

PEORIA, Ariz. - He stood 6-foot-10, a left-hander with a 98 mph fastball, a nasty slider and enough wildness to prevent anyone from digging in the batter's box.

And when someone would ask him a question, no matter how leading, Anderson did what a great many 17-year-olds do.

He answered.

"I learned how you can be led down a certain path in an interview," Anderson said. "I said what I said, but maybe a few people took advantage of me. I was pretty naive."

Now 20, Anderson - nicknamed the "Little Unit" because of his resemblance to former Mariners pitcher Randy Johnson - can laugh at some of what he said, smile at some of the response it provoked. Like most young men his age, he is growing up. Unlike most, he's doing it under the spotlight that being a highly publicized first-round draft choice brings.

"I want to be the best pitcher in the history of baseball," he once said at a Kingdome press conference.

And then there was that first round of batting practice back in the spring of '98, the day he took the mound and - a few hours into their first workout that year - threw heat past Edgar Martinez, Alex Rodriguez and Jay Buhner.

"I don't want to sound egotistical," Anderson said that day, "but I pretty much dominated them."

Teammates rode the rookie hard after that, hinting strongly that a great arm and a big mouth weren't a great combination. Looking back, Anderson may wish he'd handled the statements a little differently, but the bottom line?

In both cases, what he said was true. None too diplomatic, but true.

"He'll learn," manager Lou Piniella said at the time.

Anderson has learned and now understands that truth is like a 98 mph fastball - far more effective when controlled.

"I was real naive my first spring, but last year pitching in Class AA really helped me," Anderson said. "I was with guys three, four years older. I listen more now. I'm more relaxed.

"My role this spring is the same as it was my first year: pick up some things in camp, watch big-league hitters and then go do my job. I'm not looking to make this team out of spring training. It would be great if it happened - I'd love it - but I don't think it's too realistic."

Neither do the Mariners, who have six viable starting candidates with big-league experience in camp for the five starting jobs, and a bullpen filled with veterans.

That doesn't mean it couldn't happen.

"With pitching, things can change rapidly," Piniella said. "An injury, a trade or two, a great spring. Last year, basically, Freddy Garcia was someone we thought would start the season in Tacoma. He pitched a couple of 'B' games and did so well we gave him some 'A'-game innings. He just kept doing well, made the rotation and won 17 games."

On paper, Anderson is hardly on the fast track. After going 6-5 with a 3.23 earned-run average his first season in professional baseball, Anderson went 9-13 with a 4.50 ERA last year.

The Mariners don't much care about those statistics. What they see is a potential staff ace, a man whose pitches are still developing, who may not even have stopped growing. A year ago, his velocity dropped early in the season, down to 93-94 mph - still above average, but not what they'd seen back in 1998. When Anderson pitched this fall in the Arizona League, the velocity crept back up.

It is Anderson's potential that dazzles the Mariners and virtually everyone who scouts him. Whenever the Mariners talk to a team about a trade, Anderson's name is brought up - and Seattle politely declines.

"You go to the plate, you'd better go ready," Piniella said. "He's got good velocity, a very representative slider and you don't get a long look at the ball before it's on you. He's not the gangly kid he was two years ago.

"He's filled out a bit. He's more coordinated out there, much smoother, more compact in his mechanics."

To that, Anderson would like to add "smarter," in the sense of having obtained a certain amount of common sense he once lacked.

"I can't even tell you how many little things I've learned. I never ran in high school, and when I got to Instructional League I nearly died we ran so much," he said. "I learned. I run on my own now. I came here in much better shape."

Anderson is learning control on the field and off, and thinks before answering any question. That doesn't mean he's changed his mind, just that he looks for a better way to express himself. Someone asked him after batting practice how he'd thrown, noting that no one had put good wood on his pitches. Anderson just smiled.

"I got my work in," he said.

"He's learning," Piniella said.

(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service.)