Greg Vaughn.

        The Reds haven't had a threat in the middle of their order with this much power since Kevin Mitchell.

        It turns out the two sluggers have something else in common.

        Rottweilers.

        Vaughn, 33, owns two of pow erful dogs — Pebbles and Bam Bam.

        His third Rottweiler — Rocket, named after Vaughn's former teammate in Milwaukee, Robin Yount — had to be put down last year because he had cancer.

        “He's still in my heart, though,” Vaughn said Tuesday.

        A snarling Rottweiler is tattooed on one of Vaughn's sizeable biceps.

        “They (Rottweilers) remind me of my personality,” Vaughn once said.

        Tuesday, he made reference to it.

        “I'm pretty intense on the field,” he explained. “Some people say when they talk to me (during the game), I look right through them. My attitude is, only one thing matters and that's getting the "W.' I'll be the first one to jump on a player if he's not giving his all. Our effort is all we have control over.

        “If you come to play us (the Reds), you better pack a lunch. You're going to be in a dogfight.”

        Vaughn is married and has two children. His son, Cory, is nine. His daughter, Genay, is four.

        “I can't shave my goatee,” Vaughn practically pleaded. “My two kids have never seen me without it. You guys (the media) gotta lobby for that (a relaxation of the Reds' no-facial hair policy).”

        With Marge Schott no longer in control of the day-to-day operation of the club, the door would seem to be open to Vaughn's plea. The Reds, who are base ball's oldest professional team, were also its most hirsute for many years.

        It wasn't until the late 1960s, when Bob Howsam took over as general manager, that the no-facial hair policy was strictly enforced and became a visible part of the club's image.

        But facial hair is no longer necessarily equated with hippies. The goatee is the look of choice for many young athletes and their fans.

        Who's the new Babe Ruth? Mark McGwire. What's he have? A goatee.

        “That's my main concern — to find a way to keep my goatee,” Vaughn said. “It doesn't matter how you look ... Jim (Bowden, the Reds' general manager) and I talked about that a little bit (Tuesday), but until we sit down face to face, we won't get it worked out.”

        It wouldn't be Bowden's decision, anyway.

        It would go higher than that. Somebody within Reds upper management is going to have to answer “the question” in the coming days: Why shave Samson and risk winding up with Delilah (i.e. somebody who doesn't hit 50 home runs)?

        If the Reds persist, however, they will ultimately have to answer to their entire fan base — the same fan base they are trying to lure back to the ballpark this season so they can afford to keep Vaughn.

        He was one of four players to hit 50 homers last season (a club record), his best in the majors. He hit 41 homers in 1996, most of them (31) in Milwaukee, before being traded to San Diego.

        In 1997, he slumped to only 18 home runs and a .216 batting average in 361 at-bats (120 games).

        “It was just a matter of not getting at-bats,” he said.

        Said Padres hitting coach Merv Rettenmund, a former Red, about Vaughn:

        “I wasn't sure he could ever relax here (after striking out 141 times in 502 at-bats over two seasons). But last year, all season long, he was in the game. Everyone is saying he can't do it again (hit 50 homers). I think he can do better.”

        On July 19 last year in Cincinnati, just after Vaughn had hit his 34th home run (his fourth in three games), Reds manager Jack McKeon touted him for the Most Valuable Player award.

        “Vaughn is to the point where he's almost like (Mark) McGwire (in terms of power),” McKeon said that day. “MVP? He's there right now. He's real close. He's added more to that club than a guy like (Sammy) Sosa (of the Cubs). Without this guy, they wouldn't be close. He's carried them.”

        McGwire and Sosa later pulled away from Vaughn in the home run chase, and Sosa won the MVP because his team made it to the post-season as a wild-card team. Vaughn's team made it to the World Series, but his 50 homer total was no match for Sosa's 66.

        Vaughn says he hit the ball hard in the second half; it just didn't find the gaps or go over the wall as often. He is totally free from pain from three past shoulder surgeries, he said, although he has a strong reputation for being willing to play hurt.

        “I believe you get paid to play,” he said. “I feel like as long as I have a bat in my hands, I have a chance ... Sometimes, just with your presence (in the lineup), you can help. I played with Robin Yount and Paul Molitor, and I'd see them getting dressed in the clubhouse and I'd think, "There's no way they can make it today.' But they'd find a way.”

        Vaughn is from Sacramento, Calif. That made for a good lifestyle when he was a Padre, because he could fly home to see his son's ballgames and his family could fly in for home stands.

        “The toughest part of the trade for me is my family — trying to find a way to see them as often as I can,” Vaughn said.

        Was he surprised to be traded to Cincinnati?

        “It came out of the blue,” he said. “I'd heard about Arizona, Anaheim, Texas, Toronto, Boston. You don't think of a small market ... I had just come from the dentist. I thought maybe they had slipped me something. I didn't think it was real. I had to pinch the other side of my mouth to make sure I was awake.”

        Vaughn was an All-American in football in high school, and an All-American in baseball in college (at the University of Miami, where he earned a finance degree in 1986). Three of his hobbies are fishing, weightlifting and listening to music.

        His 50-homer season last season made him wildly popular in San Diego ... although he had been endearing himself to the non-baseball community since being traded to Mission Valley from Milwaukee.

        He turned Mission Valley into “Vaughn's Valley” for disadvantaged children, providing thousands of tickets, hot dogs and Cokes — and “Vaughn Valley” T-shirts — for his special guests.

        He'll likely do the same here.

        Making children happy puts a smile on his face.

        It's a smile that can light up a room ... and a city.

        Especially when that smile is framed by a goatee.

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