Call Steve Stone.

That's what I'd do if I were the St. Louis Cardinals, who are running out of safety nets for the Human Wild Pitch. That's what I'd do if I were agent Scott Boras, who surely has arranged a session or two between a psychologist and his beleaguered client. I'd put Stone on speed dial and Rick Ankiel on speakerphone. I'd do it yesterday.

Stone won a Cy Young. He became one of the best baseball TV analysts in the business. He made a medium-sized fortune in the restaurant game. He knows success.

But Stone also knows what it's like to stand with your toes hanging over the ledge. Call it a phobia, an Ankiel Moment -- call it whatever you want -- but Stone came this close to forgetting how to pitch to right-handed hitters. It happened early in his career, early enough that Stone still had time to overcome his fears.

"I got hit a few times," Stone says. "I began to think about it. It became a cause of concern for me."

It became more than that. Stone would have a small freak-out session whenever a right-handed batter stepped into the box. He quit throwing sliders on the outer half of the plate because he was scared stiff the pitch would get lined back to the middle of his forehead. Bobby Grich got him once with a hard liner to the leg. So did Al Cowens.

"It affected my control," Stone says. "I saw a psychologist and it didn't really help. I saw a hypnotist and it didn't really help. I found that the only person I really trusted was me."

Stone is a smart guy. Analytical. Thorough. He began to develop his own self-help system. He's big on bombarding the subconscious with positive thoughts. He considers the subconscious as some sort of mental blackboard, a place where you can wipe away the past and start fresh each day. That's the nutshell version.

"I came to the realization that I was the only inhibiting factor," he says. "The sky was the limit to what I could accomplish."

It worked. From the middle of 1979 through the end of 1980, Stone lost only seven of 50 starts. "That is a run like Roger Clemens, Randy Johnson or Greg Maddux, not Steve Stone, who was under .500 when I went on that streak," says Stone. "I was able to do it through a series of mental gymnastics."

Stone is now working as a "competition consultant" with several tennis and baseball players, as well as several golfers. He has seen the SportsCenter highlights of Ankiel doing the Nuke LaLoosh thing, throwing the ball nearly into the mezzanine level. He has seen the Cardinals protect Ankiel during spring training, then again during the regular season, then again at Triple-A, and now at extended spring training. Nothing changes. Ankiel usually looks great warming up in the bullpen. Then he steps on the mound and his mind goes on the 15-day DL.

"His problem is not his arm," says Stone. "They've got to rework his head."

Here's what Stone would do -- if the Cardinals ever called: He'd get Ankiel the hell away from the field, from the clubhouse, from anything baseball. Go find a beach, a nice restaurant ... any place where the guy could actually relax. Then he'd ask him about last season's playoff appearance, ask him to search his memory for something, anything that could have triggered his inability to throw strikes. He'd ask him what he thought about when he walked to the mound that series. When in doubt, chip away at the subconscious.

There are no guarantees. In fact, Stone says Ankiel might never recover from whatever ails him. Karma.

"I'm not saying there's any one thing, any one person who is going to help Rick Ankiel," he says. "It's a very sad thing. Nobody wants to see a multi-, multi-million dollar talent self-destruct. I would want to exhaust every possibility."

Stone likes Ankiel's chances. He's young, only 21. He's shown resolve, nerve, little ego. He goes where the Cardinals tell him, pitches when they ask him, answers the postgame questions when asked.

"I think he knows in his own mind he can be the pitcher he was last year," Stone says. "He can get any hitter out any level. He knows that."

Now he just needs to believe it. Every day. Stone is ready, willing and, who knows, maybe able to help. Couldn't hurt to try.

Gene Wojciechowski is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail Geno at gene.wojciechowski@espnmag.com.