Some Kind of Slugger

"I used to listen to Creed back when that first album [My Own Prison] came out, when they were pretty much a hard rock band," he says. "I used to listen to that every single day going to the ballpark. Every single day. The first two songs on that album. I had a Mercedes -- a fast Mercedes -- and I'd hit this one spot and I'd always have that playing. It was a feel-good thing. It meant absolutely nothing to what was going on. But, hey, you never know."

"Absolutely nothing" may be what you'd call a kind of harmless denial. What Bagwell's not saying is that he's superstitious. Many ballplayers (maybe most), whether they admit it or not, are. Some prefer to think of their personal predilections as mere habits, but if good-luck charms can cause a ground ball to unexpectedly skid past the shortstop for a cheap base hit, there must be bad-luck charms as well.

"I've never gotten a hit the day that I listen to Kid Rock," Bagwell says, "so that [album] never goes on when I'm going to the stadium. Believe it. I've never gotten a hit listening to Kid Rock. And for some reason, being a baseball player, you think about that.

"Not that I don't like Kid Rock. I like him a lot. If I'm going to play golf, I'll listen to Kid Rock. If I'm going to the stadium, I won't listen to Kid Rock."

And while there are obvious similarities between rock stars and Major League heroes -- the travel, the notoriety, the all-but-obscene incomes -- the first baseman's not so certain that names like Biggio and Bagwell fit in the same category as players like Hetfield, Hammett and Ulrich.

"I mean, obviously you're talking about Metallica," he says. "You're not talking about Jeff Bagwell. It's a little bit different. I'm sure those guys can't do a lot of things that they'd like to do: enjoy peaceful meals and things like that. I'm sure that's part of the deal."

Bagwell says he has no problem getting a meal on the road, that he goes unnoticed in New York, Atlanta, Chicago. Despite trophies for Rookie of the Year, League MVP and a better-than-passing shot at Cooperstown, the first baseman doesn't seem to accept the fact that he too is a headline attraction.

"Houston people know who I am," he admits, "but people in Houston are generally different than most places. You hear the whispers. 'Oh, that's Jeff Bagwell, that's Jeff Bagwell.' But that's about it.

"I mean, the only one who would know what it's like to be a rock star is that guy," he says, pointing to the close-at-hand Roger Clemens. "He's a rock star."