When lefthander Randy Johnson unleashes his near 100-mph fastball, fear strikes out many A.L. batters. At 6 feet 10, Johnson unfurls his tremendous wingspan to deliver a three-quarter-arm sizzler, so hitters -- particularly left-handed batters -- can be forgiven for quaking in their cleats.

"He's coming from less distance because he strides out there so far and because of his arm length," Blue Jays catcher Pat Borders says. "Even if he threw from the back of the mound I would take him (for best fastball)."

"He lets it go in front of your face," Indians pitcher Derek Lilliquist says.

That explains part of the fear factor. The rest hinges on his reputation for wildness. Who can forget the way Phillies first baseman John Kruk froze in the batter's box and then went meekly down on strikes during last summer's All-Star Game after an errant Johnson fastball sailed over Kruk's head to the screen? "Not only does he throw it hard, he doesn't know where it's going," Indians pitcher Steve Farr says.

Johnson uses the wild-man label to his advantage. He says he knows where his pitches are headed, but that sometimes they sail out of control for a purpose.

"The book on me is I'm a little erratic," Johnson says. "I'd like to think I'm effectively wild. I don't throw to the backstop or over anybody's head. But I will come up and in a bit and use the fastball to intimidate if the hitter is feeling pretty comfortable up there."

Johnson's domination in the A.L. fastball category was so complete that only Roger Clemens received more than two votes. Johnson's claim that he is the power pitcher of the '90s is backed by his 19-8 record, 3.73 ERA and average of 10.9 strikeouts per nine innings last season for a mediocre Mariners club.

As a gangly kid, he could always burn it, but rarely with control. When he was 10, he often taped a square representing the strike zone on the garage door and "pitched" with tennis balls to Hank Aaron and other 1970s big leaguers. When he was finished, Johnson says, "My dad would come out with a hammer and say, Make sure you pound all those nails back in.'" He would check the 200 or more tennis-ball marks aimed at the square and find very few inside it.

Johnson led the A.L. in walks three consecutive seasons, finally breaking the string in '93 when he finished fourth with 99. The walks cost him games. But with advice from fireballers Nolan Ryan and Tom Seaver, Johnson worked out a glitch in his motion that has helped him harness his speed.