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It’s not that Travis Fryman thinks he’s forgotten how to hit. He’s been around long enough to know better.

But injuries to his shoulder and elbow robbed him of his power last year. Now he feels stronger, the pain is diminished, maybe even gone entirely.

So why was he batting less than .100 in spring training? A hitter’s swing can be as elusive as a butterfly in the breeze. The various parts don’t always add up to the whole. Mostly, it’s a question of “feel.”

“I don’t have a feel for my swing right now,” Fryman said recently. “When I get the feel, I can keep it for a long time.”

But that comfort level is missing. Fryman’s confidence took a beating in 2001, when he was sidelined until June with a sore right shoulder and a partly torn ligament in his right elbow.

When he came back he was strictly a singles hitter, and he said he was enduring his most difficult season.

Over the winter, the shoulder was surgically repaired. Rest has done wonders for the elbow, though the shredded ligament remains.

“I would like to get my confidence back before the season starts,” Fryman said. “I have a certain amount of patience, because I’ve played for a long time. But I’m still concerned about whether I can be the kind of hitter I was in the past. I haven’t been that type of hitter for over a year.”

The Indians missed Fryman’s 20 home runs, 80-plus RBIs and .290 batting average last year. If he were to rebound to those levels this season, it would do a lot to allay fears that the Indians’ attack is inadequate.

Manager Charlie Manuel says Fryman’s mind is ill at ease, that he’s trying too hard. Manuel told him the story of Harmon Killebrew, a former teammate of Manuel’s, who had one hit all spring, then hit two home runs in the season opener.

“Charlie said he thought I was pressing,” Fryman said. “He told me that Killebrew story. I appreciate the story, but my frustration is not about hitting in spring training. It’s an accumulation of things that have happened for a year.”

Fryman listens to advice from Manuel and hitting coach Eddie Murray. His teammates offer words of encouragement. Does he have a “lazy top hand,” as has been suggested? It’s an observation he will take under advisement, like so many others.

Sometimes the devil is in the details. Often it’s in the batter’s head.

“Am I pressing?” Fryman said. “Probably. I’ve been accused of that before. I wanted to have a great spring to put their minds at ease. I think I’ve done that, except at the plate. And of course, that’s important.

“When you’re struggling, it’s difficult to put things out of your mind. I’ll have four guys telling me to relax and go play, but everybody is watching me, so I’m not going to be able to do that.”

It’s hard for Fryman to let go of last year, when pitchers were beating him with fastballs on the inside part of the plate.

“That is something that never happened to me,” he said. “When I’m swinging good, I don’t feel like any man can throw a fastball by me.”

Manuel and Murray are paid to deal with Fryman’s hitting woes, but what about when he goes home? Is his wife of 10 years, Kathleen, required to offer aid, comfort and advice?

“You couldn’t find a better baseball wife,” Fryman said. “She told me the other day, `This is the 20th time I’ve heard about this. Maybe you are done.’ She says she can tell by the look on my face how I’m doing.”

Kathleen Fryman isn’t being insensitive. She just wants her husband to keep his job in perspective.

“There are times when she’s pretty blunt about my attitude,” Fryman said. “She’s really very supportive. She knows my temperament. Earlier in my career, if I was going bad, I would walk in the front door carrying a bat. I’m not that bad anymore.”

The stability of a player’s marriage can be a factor in his performance.

“If you have a good relationship with your wife and family, it’s a lot easier dealing with baseball,” Fryman said. “If not, it can really be rough.”