PORT ST. LUCIE, Fla. -- Mo Vaughn welcomes you to the winter-long tempest over his weight: Can the Mets' first baseman be larger than life without being larger than his uniform?

The answer, Vaughn says, will be an epiphany. In fact, he's willing to bet his body-fat percentage is on its way to being lower than yours, certainly by the time the Mets break camp in a month. The first baseman, who reportedly weighed close to 300 pounds last September, is at 258 today and has 13 percent body fat.

"For a man his size, that's pretty impressive," says Mets GM Steve Phillips. Incredibly, Vaughn isn't finished sculpting. His goal is to be down to 10 percent body fat by Opening Day, at which point he'll finally stop running from the food police.

	Mo Vaughn, right, had limited range defensively and batted just .259 in his first year with the Mets last season.

Not that Vaughn should've been, since his batting average had nothing to do with scales and calipers. If that were the case, how did Tony Gwynn -- who grew into the shape of a hard-boiled egg over the course of his career -- win so many batting titles?

The same question can be put to Vaughn's 2002 season. True, he batted .259, his worst performance in a decade. But he hit 23 points higher after the All-Star break than before, and, most significantly, he batted .314 and slugged six home runs in September while he was at his heaviest.

"You know why? It's because hitting is in your mind. It's how you feel at the plate, how comfortable you are," Vaughn said. "I've never been small. The years I hit all those home runs (with the Red Sox), you think I was a small guy? No way."

Vaughn's position is passionately defended by Mets hitting instructor Chris Chambliss, who says, "What you weigh has nothing to do with whether you can catch up to a 90-mph fastball. Hand-speed and bat-speed is something you either have or you don't. Losing or gaining weight affects your foot-speed, not your hitting."

Still, Vaughn isn't vain or oblivious enough to suggest he could've arrived in camp at 300-plus pounds. He knew the Mets were leaning on him to slim down -- if for no other reason than as a measure of respect to owner Fred Wilpon. Depending on whom you ask about a face-to-face meeting between the two last September, Wilpon either threatened to void Vaughn's contract unless he got in shape, or the owner offered counseling, organizational love and a good nutritionist.

Vaughn blames Bobby Valentine for leaking the lose-it-or-else story, which he says was "totally wrong." By season's end, the first baseman and the former manager were no longer speaking to each other, and of the many reasons Vaughn stopped working out, one might have been simple rebellion against Valentine.

Several months later, Vaughn admits he was too fat and the Mets had every right to ask him to be lighter and quicker in 2003. Exactly how much he weighed, though, remains a mystery, because club officials simply didn't know. "Mo wouldn't get on a scale," is how one person in the organization ruefully put it.

	On the decline ...
	Mo Vaughn's statistics over the last four years in which he's played (he was sidelined the entire 2001 season due to injury):
	Year	Team	G	HR	RBI	AVG
	1998	Bos.	154	40	115	.337
	1999	Ana.	139	33	108	.281
	2000	Ana.	161	36	117	.272
	2002	NYM	139	26	72	.259

But Vaughn has a different attitude about his body this year. He has a full-time conditioning coach and a seven-day-a-week nutritionist. The first baseman wears loose clothing, but anyone who wonders what he's hiding gets a near-immediate answer: without being prompted, Vaughn actually pulls up his shirt to show off a respectably toned stomach.

"Not bad, huh?" Vaughn says. Indeed, he might not be ready for an Ab-Roller info-mercial, but it's obvious Mo no longer sees life as one, long caloric-orgy.

Now, Vaughn focuses on a more critical barometer -- his age. At 35, he is at a critical stage in his career. "I've got to make some changes if I'm going to keep playing," says Vaughn, who intends to squeeze out five more years before retirement.

That's the real reason Vaughn has melted the fat. He'll be quicker around first base and won't tire so easily during the summer's dog days. Vaughn is also counting on simple better luck in 2003. A broken hand and aggravated hamstring limited him to just 45 at-bats last April, and as he recalls, "I never got myself into a groove. Nothing felt right all year."

Indeed, Vaughn was coming off a one-year absence due to a torn biceps injury in 2001, and when he says, "it felt like I hadn't been at the plate for a couple of years," he means it quite literally.

But this is all distant history for Vaughn. Today, he's about a flatter stomach, quicker feet and lower body-fat percentage. At this rate, Vaughn could play shirtless by Opening Day.

Bob Klapisch of The Record (Bergen County, N.J.) covers baseball for ESPN.com.