Dickie Noles often tells the story of the day he returned home to find his twin sons, and the inside of his Delaware County house, covered in red lipstick.

His wife Susan led Dickie through a series of hallways riddled in red, past daughter Brittany who proclaimed her innocence, and presented him with then 4-year-olds Christopher and Nicholas mired in red muck.

At first, Noles, the Phillies' 1975 fourth-round draft pick who now serves as the organization's employee assistance professional (EAP), wanted to laugh. Then, he wanted to cry. "No one ever told them not to use that substance," he says.

Noles, who pitched in 11 major league seasons with six clubs, including the Phils' 1980 world champions, often equates his now 17-year-old twins' curiosity-inspired use of lipstick to the way others misuse drugs and alcohol.

Noles, a member of the Phillies community relations department since 1991 — the year he saw red — has been telling the story ever since, first as the team's substance-abuse adviser and now as its EAP, a position Major League Baseball mandated in 1981. These days, the job also calls for Noles to be an as-needed liaison to help players throughout the organization who are battling addictions or experiencing mental or emotional stress. For them, he helps sort out family problems and other anxieties.

While the Phils' roller coaster ride to the playoffs ultimately derailed Sunday on the final day of the season, marking the club's twelfth straight season without a playoff berth, Noles' behind-the-scenes work with the players has long been championship caliber. It's a model other organizations have studied, and something the organization can be proud of in a time of intense public and congressional scrutiny in the wake of the performance-enhancing drugs scandals.

Noles' interest in substance abuse and saving baseball careers stems from his own status as a recovering alcoholic who let his drinking problem ruin his career.

He's been speaking about drug and alcohol abuse prevention since the last time he had a drink. It was April 9, 1983. Noles was then pitching for the Chicago Cubs. To commiserate a teammate's early-season release, the two drank heavily. By night's end, Noles had assaulted a police officer. He spent 16 days in jail, was forced into a rehab clinic, and his irresponsibility spawned a civil suit that cost him "almost all the money I'd made up to that point in my career," he says. "It broke me."

During his fistfight, his right knee was irreparably damaged. He lost eight to 10 mph off his fastball. Though he hung on for a few more lackluster seasons, he maintains he was "scarred for life" by the incident. Today, he's the only EAP in Major League Baseball who is also a former player. Most aren't even full-time employees, like Noles.

At some 70 minor league games a season, Noles says his talks are "about what life can be," not so much about drugs and alcohol anymore. His focus is proactive rather than reactive; his talks more about the do's than the don'ts.

In the offseason, he extends his S.A.V.E.S. (Students-Attitudes-Values-Education-Substance Abuse) program at schools from elementary level through college. In baseball, he's a real do-gooder at a time when the sport is trying to save its reputation.

Noles' job responsibilities escalated in January when MLB and its players union announced a beefed-up substance-abuse policy for performance-enhancing drugs that now includes random, offseason testing and suspensions ranging from 10 days for first-time offenders to a year for fourth-time violators.

Through Sept. 7, there were nine policy violations among major leaguers and 81 in the minors, according to Mike Teevan, a spokesman in the MLB Commissioner's Office. According to Noles, the Phillies have had just four potential violations in the last two years, and only one led to a suspension: On June 24, Class A Clearwater's Joshua Carter was suspended for 15 days.

Noles, 48, maintains baseball isn't handling the drug issue correctly. Testing, he says, won't solve the problem, but educational outreach would.

Before 2002, Major League Baseball didn't have an official policy on drug or steroid use. "It was OK when guys were hitting home runs and breaking records," says Noles, "but then it wasn't when the press started saying those same guys were putting needles in themselves."

Now, every player is tested at least once between the start of spring training and the end of the regular season. Some players are randomly selected by a computer for additional tests. Tests are unannounced. The policy covers steroids, steroid precursors and designer steroids like THG as well as masking agents and diuretics.

The minor leagues have an even more stringent policy and penalties. In August, as the season was ending, a new three-strikes-and-you're-out policy was approved, according to Noles. It takes effect in 2006. First-time offenders will now be suspended without pay for 50 games. For second-time violators, a 100-game ban will be imposed. Third-time offenders are out for life, a punitive measure Noles totally opposes.

In compliance with the policy, though, he spent a week in mid-September in Clearwater updating the addresses of every player in the organization. If officials are unable to locate a player in the offseason for testing, a fine is imposed, Noles says. "These people [in the commissioner's office] are crazy," he says. "All they're worried about is cases and numbers so it can show Congress it's cleaning up the game. If it was really serious about this, that big boy in San Francisco [Barry Bonds] would get tested." (MLB maintains that every player is tested; while the process is strictly confidential, Bonds has been quoted saying he's been tested several times.)

These days, Noles sometimes sounds like a preacher, speaking from his now-sober pulpit. A devout Christian, he once considered a full-time career in the ministry. Players seem to trust him because he's been in their shoes. They say his style relaxes them, especially when they're feeling lost, alone and homesick, all while trying to figure out how long to chase the major league dream, and how to keep on the straight and narrow.

One right-handed pitcher who spent parts of the last two seasons in the Phillies organization says Noles left it up to the players to seek individual help. The thrust of his sessions was "nutrition," the former prospect says: "He said we had to find a way to be healthy. He understood that life on the road is difficult, that sometimes the only place left to eat at after a game is McDonald's. He said we needed to get our protein, so he suggested supplements, but made it clear that if we weren't sure what we were taking, that he could tell us the name of someone [Philly pharmacologist Ken Dickinson] to go to for the answer."

He maintains the Phillies are "a pretty clean organization."

"I hope it gets to that point [where] they'll say they don't need drugs if they have me," says Noles. "In the early years, players used to get teased. I'd hear, 'You're going to have to see Dickie,' but it's not like that anymore."