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His cell phone was, as kids say these days, blowing up. The text messages and phone calls streamed in, one after the other. Jim Edmonds. Scott Spiezio. Russ Springer. Adam Kennedy. It was May 2007 and Percival was kicking back on his 19-foot jet boat, enjoying the retired life on beautiful Lake Havasu with its crystal clear waters contrasted by the stark desert landscape surrounding this reservoir on the Colorado River, some 300 miles east of Los Angeles.

The phone just wouldn't stop. Word had gotten around that Percival's arm was feeling miraculously better — he had been forced away from the game almost two years earlier when doctors told him the muscle in his right forearm had completely torn off the bone — and these guys, his former Angels teammates who were together with the Cardinals, wanted to know what was up with the right arm that had nailed down the Angels' only World Series championship, in 2002. They wanted to see for themselves, and it just so happened the Cards were heading to Los Angeles for a series with the Dodgers. "So I loaded up my boat the next morning, drove all the way to L.A. and threw a bullpen, which was just god-awful," says Percival.

He hadn't thrown off a mound in six months, and that session was just a 50 percenter with the simple goal of remembering what standing on the mound felt like. This whole comeback had started purely by chance. Percival was coaching his son's little league team when, at a practice, he was playing catch with one of his assistant coaches, who kept moving farther and farther back. He started throwing harder and harder, and the ball was showing more life than it had in five years. He woke up pain-free the next day. So he did it again, and again, and again. He spent spring training with the Angels as a special instructor and threw every day.

Then, the opportunity with the Cardinals came up. "What he said was that he wanted to come out and 'let it go,' and if there was something there, he'd try playing," Cardinals pitching coach Dave Duncan says. "And if there wasn't, he kind of hoped he'd blow his arm out so he'd stop thinking about it. I wasn't overly impressed. I didn't see anything really special, but it was good enough to give him the opportunity to try and get back if he was willing to take an assignment."

Percival didn't concern himself with a lack of control or a top velocity around 88 mph. When he felt the surge of competitive adrenaline and a renewed fire that four years of constant arm pain had sapped from him, he knew he could make this comeback happen.

He headed to Class AAA Memphis, where he had a 1.35 ERA in six games before joining the Cardinals. He was outstanding in his little-bit-of-this, little- bit-of-that role with St. Louis, finishing with a 1.80 ERA and allowing only 24 hits in 40 innings. "We didn't really know what to expect until he came in," Duncan says. "And he pretty much did whatever we asked him to do, did a good job doing it and never complained a bit about it."

Percival parlayed that success into a two-year, $8 million deal with the Rays. As much as he'd like to be the big, burly closer who storms out of the gate flinging 100-mph fastballs (as he once did with the Angels, for whom he saved 316 games), he's no longer that guy. His fastball touches 94 but mostly resides in the 90-to-92 range. His curveball plays a much more prominent role than it used to, and he's learning a new pitch — again.

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With the Cardinals, he learned a cutter from Springer. This year, he says he learned a changeup from Shields, though the two argue on just how much credit Shields should get. Percival says all of it, but Shields says, "I didn't really teach him how to throw it. He claims I did, but I just showed him a few things about how I throw it, my grip, and he's been pitching really well with it. The first game I ever saw him throw it, he threw it on a 3-2 count and struck a dude out in Yankee Stadium. He's having fun with it."

That daily give-and-take between the young and old, between the newbies and veterans, is the glue that bonds this Rays clubhouse together. Percival, for all the wisdom and advice he dishes out, feels he's getting more from his teammates than he's giving.

"Here, I've got a bunch of kids who are enthusiastic to play, who are hungry to win," he says. "And we've got starters who are going deep into games -- everything is working out good. It's keeping me young. In order to come in here every day, I can't come in and be the crotchety old guy. I've got to have a little life because these guys are fun."

Winning, enthusiasm, fun? In Tampa? This is turning into a devil of a team.

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