It has come almost a month too late for the trading deadline, but Reds shortstop Pokey Reese has shown signs of hitting like the non-Red he wants to be.

        He had eight hits last week as the Reds won three of four games against the red-hot St. Louis Cardinals, including four RBI out of the leadoff spot in Thursday's 12-2 Reds' victory. For Reese, who through Friday was hitting just .233 this season, the offensive outburst came out of nowhere.

        Just like his fall from grace.

        Reese's descent from fan-and-franchise favorite to persona non grata in less than a year ranks among the quickest in Reds history. One has to go back to the earliest days of Riverfront Stadium/Cinergy Field to find a position player who undermined his exalted status this fast.

        Bobby Tolan was the Reds' multi-tooled center fielder in the early 1970s, but he suddenly became expendable after his two misplays in Game 7 of the 1972 World Series. His 1973 season was marked by a prolonged slump, occasional benchings, injuries, pouting, beard-growing and a suspension. He was traded to San Diego in the offseason.

        The big difference between Tolan and Reese is that Reese's teammates still seem to have a high regard for him.

        “He's stayed "up' with us,” Casey said. “We've all (made an effort) to make that happen. He's such a great guy. At those times when he's struggled, it's just no fun (to watch).”

        Indeed, Reese credits his teammates for keeping his spirits up.

        “Their attitude is: Keep going, keep your head up, keep battling,” Reese said. “It's been helpful.”

        “I'm sure it (all the trade talk) wore on him,” Casey said. “I don't think he ever truly, down deep, wanted to be out of here. I think sometimes you say stuff out of frustration that you really don't mean.”

        But after Reese's big day Thursday — 3-for-5, including a home run — he refused to talk about his status with the Reds, no matter how the question was asked.

        Was it frustration that made you say you wanted out, Pokey?

        “I ain't going to talk about that,” he said. “That's behind me now.”

        Your teammates want you back; do you feel the same way?

        “I don't even want to talk about that now,” he said.

        But once the trading deadline passed. ...

        “I don't want to talk about that stuff,” said Reese, cutting off the question. “It's over, man. I don't want to keep yapping about that.”

        Reese's salary is $3.2 million this year, and that figure probably will increase for next season through arbitration) makes him expendable, even if his two Gold Gloves do not. Reds brass won't discuss it, either; ill will toward a player only decreases his marketability.

        That this is even at issue is amazing considering where Reese had been. He has gone from a darling of the near-Cinderella Reds of 1999 — and the man whose star was so high with the team's brass before the 2000 season that their refusal to send him to Seattle almost kept the trade for Ken Griffey Jr. from happening — to the player who can't get out of town fast enough.

        In 1999, his first full season in the majors, Reese hit .285 with 37 doubles, five triples, 10 home runs and 38 stolen bases in 45 attempts. In 2000, some of his numbers slid a bit — .255 with 20 doubles and 29 steals — but his homers (12) and triples (six) went up in 67 fewer at-bats, plus he won his second straight Gold Glove.

        Reese's real fall began after the season, when he boycotted Redsfest in January because the Reds offered him only a $900,000 raise, when he was seeking an increase of $1.8 million. He said he didn't want to have to answer a lot of media questions at Redsfest about his contract, because he might say something he would regret.

        Fans turned on him. And his stock on the field has tumbled as well, thanks to a hitting slump that has lasted much of the season. Throughout the summer, he was the subject of trade rumors that had him going everywhere from Los Angeles to New York (Mets and Yankees), and at least three places in between (Arizona, Atlanta, Colorado).

        He went public with his disdain for Reds general manager Jim Boden — who was saying the Reds had made long-term deals to its young stars — over the seriousness of the offers. He told Baseball Weekly, “How can you tell when Jim Bowden is lying? His lips are moving.” And then, when he was hitting only .219 three days before the July 31 trading deadline, he told the Enquirer, “Do I want to be here? Not really. There comes a time in your life when you might need a change.”

        If he were hitting, maybe he could have gotten away with it. Nothing makes the fans forgive and forget faster than a two-run homer — like the one he hit over the flood wall Thursday.

        “That was a pretty good one,” said Reese, flashing the old smile so rarely seen this season.

        Reese also drove in the Reds' first run Thursday, with a two-out single, and their fifth run, with a two-out double. He was in the middle of everything — a flashback to 1999, when his .316 on-base percentage from the leadoff spot (the major-league average was .349) was obscured by how his mere presence ignited the team.

        He was the player, perhaps more than any other, who made the Reds greater than the sum of their parts. The Reds were 46-30 in games in which hit leadoff.

        Reese has been first in the Reds' batting order since Monday. Can hitting leadoff provide a fresh start for a player?

        “It can if they hit,” Reds manager Bob Boone said.

        Casey says the move to leadoff triggered a response in Reese.

        “The leadoff spot is such an important spot,” he said. “Sometimes when you're hitting down in the order, it can hurt you. At leadoff, you know your job (is to set the table). I think it's given him some added confidence.”

        But it probably won't keep him a Red in the long run.

        Barry Larkin, who turns 38 in April, is likely to reclaim the shortstop and leadoff spots next year after healing from surgery to repair his sports hernia. The recent acquisition of second baseman Todd Walker takes up the other middle-infield spot, and third baseman Aaron Boone fills the other position Reese has played.

        Still, there are arguments to be made for finding a spot for Reese. It's hard to imagine Larkin playing in more than 120 games next season. And Walker, while superior to Reese offensively, won't make anybody forget Pokey's glove.

        “Pokey wins a lot of games for us on defense alone,” Casey said.

        And for all the defensive ability of backup middle infielder Juan Castro, he can't match Reese — at his best — as an offensive catalyst.

        “He's had a lot of big at-bats for us,” Bob Boone said.

        “Looking at Pokey right now, it reminds you that he's one of the best shortstops in the league,” Casey said. “Nobody can go get the ball like him. He's already proven he's a Gold Glove second baseman, and you know he'd be a Gold Glove shortstop, too.

        “You just don't go find those kinds of guys. They aren't a dime a dozen. A guy who can do what he does is special.”

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