AVERAGE ROY: Far from ordinary, Oswalt has averaged close to 17 wins per season over his first five major league campaigns.

ROY OSWALT’S HOMETOWN of Weir, Mississippi, has a population in the neighborhood of 500. His graduating class had either 18 or 23 people, depending on which report you believe. Other than the drugstore, the grocery store and the ballfield, there weren’t a lot of places for people to congregate.

When Oswalt was in high school, his electric right arm provided a glimpse of an eventful future. However, opposing coaches from 5A schools failed to recognize his

potential when he showed up for All-Star Games, and they refrained from pitching him because he played for a dinky 1A program. That’s the kind of slight an aspiring

big leaguer never forgets.

“I THINK IT’S BAD IN THAT SENSE, when people overlook guys from smaller schools just because of the place where they were born, rather than the talent they

have on the field,’’ Oswalt says, with business in his eyes and a resolute tone in his voice.

At 28, Roy Oswalt still keeps Weir in his heart, although he’s tucked the small-town slights safely in the rear-view mirror. He has consecutive 20 win seasons with the Astros in his portfolio, and this year he gave opposing hitters no respite as the nominal No. 3 starter on a Houston staff that featured Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte. With a career major league record of 83-39, he’s off to a pretty good head start in his own run at Cooperstown.

Oswalt made $5.9 million this year—enough to buy Weir if he desired—and he has an Olympic gold medal at home. But experience has taught him that success is most gratifying when earned. You just lean in for the sign and throw the pitch, and let everybody else worry about the “I-told-you-so’s.”

Oswalt was 17 years old when he graduated high school, and he stood 5-10 and 160-something pounds. Houston selected him as a “draft-and-follow’’ out of Holmes (MS) Community College after his freshman year in 1996. The Astros chose him in the 23rd round—as the 684th overall pick —in the hope that he might continue to mature physically and they could have first dibs on him before he went back into the following year’s draft.

When Houston offered him $50,000 to sign, Oswalt decided to return to school for another year. It turned out to be a wise move. Oswalt grew two inches and added about 15 pounds as a sophomore at Holmes, and his stuff benefited as a result. His fastball, clocked at 91-92 mph in his freshman year, improved to 95 mph, and it quickly became evident that the Astros were onto something special. The second time around, it took them $500,000 to sign him.

Oswalt didn’t exactly catapult through the Houston system. As a 19-year-old, he reported to the Gulf Coast League in Rookie ball and pitched well enough to earn a promotion to Auburn in the New York-Penn League. Then 1997 turned to 1998, and he pitched for the same two clubs all over again.

Oswalt was caught between two worlds. While the Astros had a substantial amount of money invested in him, he was a smallish righthander who hadn’t faced a lot of strong competition; so he had some things to prove.

“I really didn’t know how baseball works coming into the minor leagues,’’ Oswalt says. “If you’re a first or second-round pick, they’re going to give you all the chances in the world. It’s an investment for them. When they have a million dollars invested in one guy and $25,000 in another guy, they’re going to give the million dollar guy a little more of a chance.’’

In Oswalt’s case, the operative word was “raw.’’ When Houston’s scouts first saw him, he was pushing off the top of the rubber and generating minimal leg drive, yet still throwing 90 plus. In junior college he got away with throwing his fastball by everyone, but hitters in the pros had quicker bats and were more discerning as a rule. So Oswalt grew breaking ball-happy, throwing curveball after curveball in an attempt to try and trick hitters.

The light finally went on when Oswalt received a promotion in 2000, to Double-A Round Rock, the Houston farm club owned by Nolan Ryan. After going 4-3 with a 2.98 ERA for Class-A Kissimmee, he made an emergency trip to the Texas League. Manager Jackie Moore’s team needed a starter for an outing or two, and the Astros sent Oswalt to Round Rock with a round-trip ticket.

When Oswalt fanned 15 hitters in his first Double-A start, the Astros tore up the ticket and invited him to stay in Texas for a while. “Needless to say, the rest is history,’’ Moore says.

Oswalt posted an 11-4 record and a 1.94 ERA in Round Rock, with 141 strikeouts in 129 innings, and he now points to two factors in his emergence as a pitcher. His summer in the Texas League marked the first time since high school that he actually had to stand in the box as a hitter, and the experience reinforced the notion that a well-located fastball can be a wonderful thing.

Oswalt also benefited from the tutelage of Round Rock pitching coach Mike Maddux, who taught him the importance of being economical in his approach.

“A lot of pitching coaches are so demanding on mechanics,’’ Oswalt says. “Mike would tell you what to look for to set up hitters, how to change speeds and things like that. He told me, ‘You have a good enough fastball where you can be a power pitcher if you need to be. But if it’s early in the game, why not take something off and get some groundballs early in the count and try to get through five innings with 50 pitches so you can get into the ninth inning?’ ’’

Oswalt, a quick learner, didn’t need to be told twice. He would throw his curveball at 75 mph, and then dial it down to 65, so it had the net effect of being two pitches in one.

Some attributes, like a hunger to win, simply can’t be taught. Oswalt, ever the small-town kid, loves to hunt and fish, but that hardly makes him docile.

“Roy has a laid-back type personality until he gets on the mound,’’ Moore says. “He’s quite a competitor. I heard him make the statement once that he doesn’t even like anybody passing him on the highway.’’

Oswalt’s summer in Round Rock would have been momentous enough as a career turning point, but there was an exclamation point to be added when he left the team and pitched for Tommy Lasorda’s Gold Medal-winning USA baseball team in Sydney.

Oswalt, who keeps his medal in a safe at home, recalls the Olympic experience with particular fondness because it had nothing to do with money or career aspirations, and everything to do with players putting aside personal goals for the team. He pitched a game against Korea to help get the US to the gold medal round, and then cheered his teammates like crazy.

“It was win or go home, and everybody was fighting to win, that’s what stuck out the most,’’ Oswalt says. “I didn’t win a game and I felt like I had the best time of my life.’’

He was on his way. In the spring of 2001, Oswalt was off to a 2-3 start with Triple-A New Orleans. He was charting a game for another pitcher, when the phone rang in the tunnel behind the dugout and manager Tony Pena answered it.

“You’re going to Montreal tomorrow,’’ Pena told Oswalt. It was the kind of news a young ballplayer can’t wait to share.

“When I was living in New Orleans, my wife would come down on the weekends,’’ Oswalt says. “I met her in the parking lot and she thought I had gotten hurt or something. I got out of my truck and she said, ‘What’s wrong?’ I told her, ‘I have to be in Montreal in the morning.’ We were both going crazy.’’

The pride of Weir had officially arrived, and in time, he would have plenty of lessons to impart to other young pitchers.

“When I go home now and I work out with junior college guys in the off-season, they say, ‘How is it facing this guy or that guy?’ ’’ Oswalt says. “But I never looked at it as, ‘I’m facing Mark McGwire or Barry Bonds.’ I just see them as another hitter.

“I try to explain to the kids, ‘Don’t ever think somebody is better than you, because if you do, that’s when you get beat.’ You have to believe in everything you do. If you don’t, who’s going to believe in you?’’