Erickson is chattier, bulkier - and a happier camper; Righthander leaves last season in shadows

Uh, well, glad to get a fresh start?

"Yeah."

Care to elaborate?

"Well . . ."

And slowly Erickson, like a patient in therapy, relived the painful memories of a 1993 season in which he somehow possessed the best stuff and the worst record (8-19) of any Twins pitcher.

He remembered twice taking shutouts against Toronto, the best team in the game, into the ninth inning, only to lose - once because a routine grounder down the line bounced off first base and scored a run.

He remembered the 100 or so times he stormed off the mound between fruitless innings, slammed his infamous black glove on the bench, stomped up the stairs and lay on the ground in the Twins' clubhouse, trying to calm his rage until the television told him it was time to face the music of bat on ball again.

After games he would stalk past reporters and sulk in the training room - or hurry out the back door. "I was so mad I couldn't stand it," he said. "And I like my privacy. It's nobody's business what I do. Fans can watch and enjoy the games or boo or whatever, but I don't have to tell them everything that's going on in my life."

If that quote seems like classic Erickson - aloof, brooding, cautionary - the rest of the conversation revealed the playful side some teammates insist is there.

"Last year is behind me, and it's totally wiped out," the new-and-enthused Erickson said as if chanting a mantra. "It doesn't count for anything. I'm at ground zero."

Standing in front of his locker in the Twins' clubhouse, Erickson laughed and looked at fellow pitcher and close friend Mark Guthrie. "And that's where I'll take off from."

The Twins are entering a second consecutive season in which they're depending on Erickson and Kevin Tapani to carry their rotation, a burden they dropped like hot coals last year. "We went into the season worried about Willie Banks and Jim Deshaies, and they were very good. If Tapani and Erickson had produced the numbers they had in the past, we would have been fine," general manager Andy MacPhail said.

Erickson had appeared poised to pitch well last spring. A devoted weightlifter, he had concentrated last winter on reducing his body fat, and he came into spring training with the tree-trunk legs and whiplike upper body of a speedskater.

Erickson looked as if he had the stuff of a 15- to 18-game winner the first day he took the mound. But while pitching in the third inning of the last game of spring training, he felt a twinge in his side.  He had pulled an oblique muscle, which is vital to a pitcher's motion. He was placed on the disabled list before Opening Day. "You could call it horrible timing," he said.

Erickson smiled again - an act that last season would have precipitated 2-inch headlines. "Hey, I had a no-hitter in that spring game," he said. "That's what really upset me."

When Erickson returned to the roster, the Twins tried to break him in slowly, but he looked like a different pitcher. While he struggled with his control, his teammates struggled to catch or hit the ball.

Later in the season Erickson regained his stuff, but by then he and the team had fallen into a funk.  Erickson had won 20 games pitching to former Twins catcher Junior Ortiz in 1991, and teammates say he hated working with Brian Harper, who caught most of his games last year. Erickson also seemed to hate trying to right himself while the Twins, doomed to a losing season, experimented with young players and improbable lineups.

"I was happy with the way I threw the ball last season," he said. "But this is a bottom-line numbers game, and my numbers were horrible. I'll take the blame. The only people I need to worry about anyway are the people in this clubhouse and my peers. They all know I threw well last year. I probably threw harder in the last game of the season than I had all season."

Erickson did little this offseason that he wouldn't have done after winning 20 games. He decided to rebuild his upper body, so he combined six three-hour weightlifting sessions a week with a high-calorie diet, which has resulted in a linebacker look.

"He's probably the best-conditioned athlete we have," manager Tom Kelly said. "If he'll mix in his changeup, he'll be tough. He had one start last year where he got six outs with changeups, and he had a great outing. Then a few starts later we didn't see it, and . . ."

Erickson's love of weightlifting contrasts with old-time baseball theory, that lifting restricts a pitcher's flexibility. "I'm part of the new era," he said with - could it be? - another smile. "Plus, I need the power - for golf. I need to lengthen my drives."