Boston Has No Mo Show : But Red Sox Fans Adore Sidelined Vaughn, Whose Image Has Taken a Beating

Mo Vaughn bolted from third and charged for home. He slid in safely. He got up slowly.

That single play summed up his season: his determination has brought success but it hasn’t always been easy.

Vaughn, batting .335 with 20 homers, is expected to miss six weeks following surgery for the knee injury suffered on the slide on June 15 against the New York Mets. And that’s just his latest brush with turmoil.

In February, the Boston Red Sox first baseman suggested his general manager was a liar. This month, he spoke out for an alleged wife-beater, who also is his close friend.

Lesser men would crumble. But Vaughn--the best player on one of the worst teams in baseball--handles adversity well.

“He’s proven that,” says Roosevelt Smith, the executive director of the Mo Vaughn Youth Development Program. “We can go back to when he was sent back to the minor leagues. It just made him stronger.”

Hard work brought Vaughn back to the majors to stay in 1993 and, two years later, he won the AL most valuable player award. Last season, he had career highs of 44 homers, 143 RBIs and a .326 average. Yet he still agonizes over the slightest flaw in his swing.

As a player and a person, the man, whose fearsome look often gives way to a wide grin, has a glowing image.

He is the only hitter whose mere stride from the on-deck circle stirs frustrated Fenway Park fans to applause. Off the field, his community program serves about 30 inner-city youngsters in a five-hour after-school setting.

“You’ve just got to love getting up in the morning,” Boston hitting coach Jim Rice said. “Mo realizes a lot of people are in worse situations than he is.”

Vaughn’s image remains positive despite a series of controversies.

Last December--on Friday the 13th--former Boston ace Roger Clemens signed with Toronto, ripped the Red Sox and said Vaughn would leave after the 1998 season. Vaughn said he had no such plans.

Last February, Vaughn criticized general manager Dan Duquette, saying fans don’t want to be lied to about whether the team is contending or rebuilding. On May 28, they met to dispel rumors that Vaughn was on the trading block.

Then came a much more sensitive issue.

Early in the morning of June 11, Red Sox left fielder Wilfredo Cordero was arrested for assaulting and threatening to kill his wife, Ana.

That night, Vaughn supported Cordero: “He’s a good man and he made a mistake.” He also expressed concern for Ana.

But talk-radio callers scolded Vaughn for appearing to care more about Wilfredo than Ana. Rather than claim he was misquoted, Vaughn apologized and said, “I know her. I know she knows what I mean.”

Said teammate Reggie Jefferson: “Mo is the type of guy who thrives on adversity. He’s not afraid to speak up in situations where others might back away.”

With the departure after last season of Clemens and Mike Greenwell, the two most senior Red Sox, reporters now cluster around Vaughn for post-game interviews.

“Mo is a passionate person,” Smith says, “and because he’s a passionate person, he says what he feels and it may be misinterpreted.”

Even the National Organization for Women backed Vaughn in the Cordero situation.

“It is always commendable when friends stand by friends and, to our mind, you are not distancing your friend or hurting him in any way to get him to admit his mistakes,” said Toni Troop, president of NOW’s Boston chapter.

Bryan Wilson, assistant director of the youth program, has been friends with Vaughn for 20 years, since they were nine.

“He’s crazy about his mother and his two sisters,” Wilson said. “He protects them as gold. He respects them as women.”

In July 1995--his MVP year--Vaughn instinctively plunged into another troublesome situation. One night, a man in a Boston nightclub allegedly licked Vaughn’s girlfriend’s face and Vaughn and the man fought.

“I reacted like any man would,” said Vaughn, who faced reporters a few days later sporting a black eye.

His caring nature extends to kids growing up in less favorable circumstances than his middle-class upbringing in Norwalk, Conn., as the son of a school principal and elementary school teacher.

On the door of his community program is a testimonial from one of the youngsters: “Not many programs believe. Mo Vaughn believes.”

Smith and Wilson sit in a small office in the basement of a two-story brick building with a metal grate to cover the front door. They are surrounded by computers, a filing cabinet and a bookcase. One volume is entitled, “Kaplan Secrets to College Admission Success.”

Red Sox second baseman John Valentin, who knew Vaughn when they played together at Seton Hall, said, “He’s a person you can look up to because he does the right thing.”

“We’re best friends,” Wilson said, “but if I do something wrong, he lets me know about it.”

Now, though, Vaughn must look after himself.

He is on the disabled list for the first time. He endures the painful wait to return to the lineup. Rehabilitation is just beginning.

“He’s a competitor. He loves to play. I’m sure he’s upset, but he’ll play with no legs if he has to,” Wilson said.

Then a UPS driver walks through the open door of the community program office to drop off packages.

“Where’s Mo, man?” he says with a grin. “Mo had an accident. Tell him to learn how to slide.”

Vaughn, who likes to make things right, probably will.