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Dusty Baker, manager of the San Francisco Giants, has been involved in all eight baseball stoppages since 1972-strikes, lockouts, boycotts-and makes one prediction with absolute certainty.

“They’ll be back,” Baker said, speaking of the 750 striking major-league players.

It was midmorning here in the Valley of the Sun, three hours before game time, and Baker was on the field, watching the Giants’ replacement players prepare for the season ahead.

“Nobody’s been sleeping well,” Baker observed. “You get your hopes up one day that the strike is going to end and then the next day it’s destroyed. How many times can you go up and down emotionally? Do you know what I mean?”

I told him I understood. I, too, have been riding the baseball roller coaster.

Baker was standing alongside the first base line, halfway between the plate and the bag. He looked toward the replacements who at that moment were lying on the center-field grass, engaging in calisthenics.

“You try to prepare these guys the best you can,” he said. “You’ve got to try to preserve your respect and dignity. I’ve got a job to do.”

Baker spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.

“I miss my players,” he said. “I miss them big-time. I talk to them all the time. I keep telling them it’s important for them to stay in shape. I wish we had never gotten into this situation.”

I asked if he has much communication with his replacement players. I have noticed that some managers and coaches, in an apparent show of loyalty to the striking players, have a minimal relationship with the replacements.

“I talk to them,” Baker replied. “I tell them they’re here as temporary workers, that it’s a temporary situation. I don’t blame them or judge them for what they’ve done. I don’t know whether I could have done it.

“I have emphasized that I won’t hold any ill feelings toward them when the regular players return but that they must understand they’re kind of like renters in Barry Bonds’ and Matt Williams’ house.

“I told them, `When they come back you’ll have to leave. But in the meantime, you guys are like the rabbit in the 5,000-meter run. You’ve got to get us out of the gate quickly so we can be in a good position when the regular players come back.”‘

I interrupted. In other words, once the championship season begins, it’s crucial for the replacements to play .500 ball or better. Neither Baker nor any other manager wants his team buried in the second division with a 10-20 record when the regulars return.

“Exactly,” Baker said. “We can’t expect Matt Williams and Barry Bonds to come back and help us win 10 straight so we can get back to .500. The replacements are going to have to play good ball for us. And if they don’t we’ll be playing catchup the rest of the season.”

Baker also knows from firsthand experience the importance of the regular players staying in shape.

He was a utility man with the Atlanta Braves in 1972, the year of the first stoppage.

“They told me to go to the ballpark every day and work out,” Baker recalled. “I didn’t do it. Didn’t work out a single day. I figured it wasn’t important because I was the 25th man on the team.

“In the first game after the strike ended, Orlando Cepeda got hurt. They moved Hank Aaron to first base. He took Cepeda’s position and they put me in left field, in Hank’s spot. I got a hit my first time up and then I went 0 for 19, with 15 strikeouts.

“They put me back on the bench. Hank Aaron told me to go to the batting cage and get my stroke back. When they gave Rico Carty a day off, I got back in the lineup and went 3 for 4 and began playing every day and they traded Rico away. I’ve wondered what would have happened to my career if I hadn’t gotten that second chance and was ready for it.”

That Baker learned from this experience was apparent nine years later, in 1981, when the players struck for 50 days. He finished that season hitting .320 and had the highest poststrike batting average of any National Leaguer.

“So I tell my guys, `There’s going to be baseball,”‘ Baker said. “It’s going to require more discipline to work out but you’ve got to keep the end in sight.’

“The whole thing is a strange scenario. In a way, it’s like a divorce. We don’t know the damage we’re doing to these kids. We won’t know until later.”

Dusty Baker then excused himself and walked out to second base to get a closer look at his replacement players.