By John Klima
Staff Writer

The game had reached the 16th inning, long enough to reach past four hours, a duration demanding discipline from the relief pitchers in the bullpen. Some guys needed coffee. Some needed another dip of tobacco. Some needed to remind the other guys where they came from.

It was in the 16th inning of this game in Toronto when relief pitcher Scot Shields of the Angels ambled up to bullpen catcher Steve Soliz with a sneaky grin on his face. By the look on Shields’ face, Soliz knew Shields had something he wanted to say, only the kind of banter encouraged by boredom, camaraderie, and the kind of humor only a life in the bullpen can inspire.

"16th inning," said Shields, eyes fixed on the scoreboard, "Back in college, I'm still in this game."

Soliz had no idea what Shields was talking about, or at least pretended that he was clueless. Shields explained that he had once pitched a 16-inning complete game in college when he was an unknown starting pitcher in a remote part of the baseball landscape. It was such a feat that they still talk about in Tennessee, Shields said. It was local lore, like Peyton Manning, or the tin woodsman that is said to live in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Soliz, like any good bullpen mate, played right along. "I told him, 'Just wait until I tell the other guys you brought that up,'" Soliz said. "In hindsight, I think he wanted me to. In fact, I’m sure he wanted me to."

Reliever Brendan Donnelly knew that’s what Shields wanted Soliz to say. Donnelly, a baseball survivor who pitched in more places than he’d care to remember before he came to the big leagues, would sooner ride Shields than give him credit. This, of course, is intentional.

"He's still living on that game," Donnelly said, feigning exasperation and succeeding admirably.

That may be true, but the Angels, who begin a crucial three-game series at Oakland tonight tied with the Athletics for first place in the American League West, have come to rely on Shields and his 7-6 record and 2.14 earned run average. In a season where the bullpen has been crucial to their success, Shields has emerged as the most effective middle reliever in the American League. Much of this can be traced to his durability, the roots of which can be found in one special game along a path few have traveled.

"Yeah, that's true," said Shields of the Toronto encounter. "I knew Soliz was gonna run and tell Donnelly that. I like to remind him of that."

The facts are there. The box score can be found if you scavenge through the Internet. As a junior in March 1996, Shields started the second game of a Saturday double-header and pitched the first three innings before nightfall interrupted. He came back on Sunday and pitched the final 13 innings, finally surrendering two runs in the top of the 16th inning to lose 7-6.

Along the way, he walked nine and hit three batters, gave up 12 hits and struck out seven. The exact pitch count has been lost, but Shields says he threw 261 pitches.

“He would have won if he was worth a shit,” Donnelly jested.

Manager Mike Scioscia was equally impressed.

"He really should have only needed 180 pitches to finish that, but he had to go and walk nine guys," Scioscia quipped. "I mean, if he was really good, he should have taken care of business in 200 pitches or less."

For a long time, the 16-inning game was Shields' claim to fame. It helped set the standard for a pitcher whose flexibility has made him a central part of the Angels bullpen. Shields still enjoys recalling that game, his animated body language showing a hint of emotion that many players try to hide within the walls of a major league clubhouse, and he claims it as much a part of his baseball identity as his status as one of the American League’s top relievers.

"To be honest, I was wondering what the heck I was still doing out there," Shields recalled.

"But I wasn't coming out of that game. People say, ‘Weren’t you worried you’d get hurt?’ I’d say, why? Believe me, nobody knew who I was. Scouts, are you kidding me? I was just playing to win because I'm stubborn and I'm hard-headed."

Perhaps Shields, 30, is entitled to revel in some of the lore. He leads American League relievers with 23 holds, 67 1/3 innings and is second with 72 strikeouts. Scioscia said Shields has filled the role of two pitchers because of dependability. Shields had five saves in six attempts when closer Francisco Rodriguez missed two weeks earlier this season.

Nobody can quite explain why a slender 6-1, 170-pound frame allows Shields to produce the kind of arm speed and torque that allows him to throw his two-seam fastball in the low 90s with treacherous movement, nor can they fully explain why Shields is so durable.

"I think he's just been blessed with a good arm stroke," pitching coach Bud Black said. "His arm is constantly in a good position to throw the ball. He's a natural the way his musculature is set up."

Shields can loosen up in a hurry and is seldom ineffective in back-to-back stints, earning him the reputation as a reliever with a resilient arm. Dr. Donnelly, of course, has an explanation. It doesn’t matter that he isn’t a real doctor, unless you consider getting inside someone’s head a legitimate medical skill.

"He's got no muscle," Donnelly said. "In order for you to be sore, you have to have something there. Scot’s got nothing. He's a human tendon."

The human tendon nearly snapped before he got started. Shields was never considered a prospect at Lincoln Memorial University, an obscure Division II college baseball program in rural Tennessee.

His journey is as unlikely as pitching a 16-innning complete game and as accidental as his discovery by Angel scout Tom Kotchman, who drafted and signed him in the 38th round of the 1997 draft.

"It was a fluke that Kotchman even saw me," Shields said.

Lincoln Memorial is in Harrogate, a small town on the border of Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia with a population of 4,424. Shields rarely pitched in high school and junior college in Florida and went to Lincoln Memorial when they gave him the scholarship vacated by his brother, Tim.

Shields wasn't scouted until his senior year when Kotchman stumbled across him in Pensacola while checking on a University of West Florida pitcher.

“It was totally by accident," Kotchman said. "Nobody had any clue who this kid was. He wasn’t on a single watch list. Nobody had him on their lists, I’m certain."

Kotchman lived every scout's dream: he went to see another player and discovered a prospect instead.

"I heard this story that they had this guy who threw 16 innings and 200 pitches the day before," Kotchman said, "And he would close the next one if it was a tight game."

Kotchman debated taking the coach seriously. Scouts are always weary that they are made out to be suckers by cunning college coaches looking to promote themselves through their players.

"I remember thinking, 'I'm tired, it's my third game of the day and I have a 500-mile drive in front of me. What if I get there and watch this kid and he throws 75 miles-per hour?' I’ll tell you what, if I get there and I see he throws 80, I’m getting in my car going 90 back to Florida."

Shields got into the game in the ninth inning. He earned the save, showing the same quirky windup and natural movement on his fastball that he has today. Fastball movement is not something that can be taught. The pitch has life or it does not. Kotchman was relieved that his drive had not been a waste. If you’re expecting a moment of great revelation, however, this is not the story for you.

"His arm shouldn't have still been attached to his body if he threw 200 pitches the day before," Kotchman said. "I didn't have a lot of background on the kid, but when I saw him I knew it was worth the stay. Did I know he was going to the big leagues? No. Was he worth a draft? Yes."

A longtime South Florida amateur scout and minor league manager for the Angels, Kotchman had Shields fill out an information card. He called a month after the college season and asked him to throw. Shields, who said he never once knew of a scout watching him pitch at Lincoln Memorial, felt the nerves. He was a kid faced with the chance to pursue a man’s career. He brought his spikes, his glove, his hat and a ball. But he forgot his command. His pitches did what they wanted to do, not what he wanted them to. After the bullpen session, Sheilds was forlorn. He began to think about other careers.

"I said, 'There's my shot, I blew it,'" Shields said. “I thought that was it right there.”

Kotchman, the savvy scout, had never shown the slightest inkling of interest. This was by design. "I mainly wanted to see that he was healthy," Kotchman said. "I didn’t care if he threw strikes. I didn’t care what his mechanics looked like. Anyone who throws that many innings, you had to double check, because with that workload, he should have been an injury waiting to happen."

Back home in Ft. Lauderdale on the morning of the draft, Shields slept in and almost didn't get out of bed when a courier knocked on the door. He finally got up – a wise decision.

"I thought somebody was selling insurance or something, so I wasn't getting out of bed for that," Shields said. "The guy kept knocking, which was probably a good thing. I got out of bed, saw the package from the Angels, and that was that."

Shields hesitated until his coach, Tony Skole, reminded him of how lucky he had been. "You were in the right place at the right time," Skole told him, "Do you want to go play softball or do you want to play pro ball?"

Kotchman signed Shields for $2,000 and managed him that summer short-season Boise. It took him nearly five minor league seasons to establish himself in the Angels' bullpen, but the course had been set. Years later, Shields remains appreciative towards Kotchman, the scout who found him by chance, and gave him one.

"I owe my life to Kotchman," Shields said. "The way he trusted me enough to put me in the mix was huge."

Kotchman doesn’t take credit for Shields’ success. That would go against the honor code of the traditional scout. Instead, he uses Shields as an example for younger players.

Every summer for the last several years, be it in Boise or in Orem, when Kotchman has a new team full of young ballplayers taking their first steps into pro ball, he tells them the story of Shields. He reminds them that no matter where they came from, how much they signed for, who their agent is, and how confidant they are that they will play in the big leagues, that there is no reason not to work hard. Talent is mandatory, but work ethic is more valuable.

"When some guys don’t get to the big leagues and are finished playing, and they look back, they know they didn't give it all they had, and that they thought just playing pro ball was good enough," he said. "They thought the minors were the major leagues. Scot didn't do that. That wasn’t in him."

"You could tell he was quiet and had an aggressive attitude going against guys who were higher drafts from bigger schools. He was very, 'I'm gonna show you.' After that summer, he ran with it."

That's the mentality that defines Shields, who earned a victory against Tampa Bay last week when Tom's son, Angel rookie first baseman Casey, hit his first major league home run.

"Guys like that are special," said Soliz. "Scot's got a very resilient arm and the mentality to match. And, yeah, he should be proud of the 16-inning game. That’s his for the rest of his career."