by Gregg Pearlman
The All-Star Game has come and gone. Ditto the first meeting between the Giants and Dodgers in the whole of the 1998 season. Interleague play, too. So it's a strange time for me to have taken a vacation, I suppose, especially because I took the same week off last year. (But time off for EEEEEE!, in this case, means two installments. Lucky you!) At least I got to watch the All-Star Game this year, so I know that the game was more or less lost before any Giants pitcher had a chance to cough it up. On the other hand, I had the happy occasion to watch a Giants hitter come up big, as Barry Bonds did with this three-run blast. That gave the National League the lead -- for the last time, sure, but it was sweet for the moment.
I have to admit that I enjoy the All-Star Break. Oh, I like the game, too, but the hype and the coverage are so nauseating -- though not as bad as the Super Bowl. But what I like most is the break. Yes, it's weird that the Giants had an extra day, for a total of four, but I felt as though I needed a break from The Stress of Being a Giants Fan, and I bet a lot of you did, too.
Here's how things have gone lately:
The Giants are currently on their annual Post-All-Star-Break Nightmare Road Trip. Expect sickness.
"Yeah," says Seth, "and it took several innings for those clowns at NBC to notice that. I don't know why, but, when I was watching that at-bat, I watched intently. Somehow, I just knew he was gonna connect. I was thinking, 'You know, if Bonds clouts one right here, the NL gets the lead back....'
"And damn, that home run wasn't a cheapie, either. He hasn't been hitting many in games that actually count lately, but I'll take this one as a good sign for the second half.
"Oh, and thanks for the stellar defense, Fernando Viña. And yes, I'm being sarcastic."
(Seth is referring to the Brewers second baseman who not only was thrown out at the plate trying to score a key run with nobody out but who also made an error that led to a pair of runs scoring off the strangely and annoyingly ineffective (yet typically so, for a Giants pitcher in the All-Star Game) Robb Nen.)
Joe Roderick of the Contra Costa Times says, "The record crowd of 51,267 at Coors Field booed Barry Bonds during pregame introductions Tuesday night.
"Bonds won most of the fans back by blasting a three-run home run that was estimated to travel 451 feet. It hit the Giants' banner that hung on the facade of the third deck in right field, and it gave the National League a 6-5 lead in the bottom of the fifth inning, an advantage the senior circuit would squander during a 13-8 loss to the American League."
I don't remember hearing them boo anyone else. They applauded Piazza, for cryin' out loud....
However, Albert says, "They booed Gary Sheffield, and there were some boos for Roberto Alomar." I just didn't notice, I guess. Alomar I can understand -- he's been permanently convicted for one single, stupid moment. Sheffield, I guess, was just being booed for being Sheffield, a la Bonds (who is rarely booed for being Sheffield).
"Bonds said he didn't want to embarrass himself against Cleveland's hard-throwing Bartolo Colon, whom he was facing for the first time. Bonds admitted -- a big admission for him -- that he felt jittery during the game.
"'I was just nervous hitting behind (Mark) McGwire,' said Bonds, who added he had a headache and felt light-headed before the game. 'When he got walked, all the pressure would be on me. It was nerve-wracking. It's the first time I've felt nervous in this game. I didn't want to hit behind Big Mac. It's not a good experience.'"
He's copped to the jitters a lot lately. A little too much, perhaps.
"When Bonds was booed before the game, it fit perfectly with his discussion in the clubhouse two hours earlier. He empathized with his friend Griffey Jr., the 1998 All-Star Game's top vote-getter who was booed during batting practice Monday because he wasn't going to compete in the Home Run Derby. Griffey had second thoughts and ended up winning the competition.
"'If I have to worry about boos in my career, I'd be dead already,' Bonds said. 'I get booed for nothing. I get booed all the time.... I get booed at home, I get booed on the road. "Boo Barry the rest of his career.'"'"
No kidding. One person I correspond with -- a perfectly nice, interesting individual -- despises Bonds. Well, no big deal there; it's a matter of preference. But what I don't get from this person is why. It's sort of like this: "Oh, he's just a jerk." But based on what? Frankly, a better answer would be, "Because I just don't like him." That I could understand. I mean, I dislike pork chops and hate peas, and I like tomatoes in just about any form other than that in which God made 'em, and people think I'm crazy -- but it's my prerogative, isn't it?
I had a boss once who'd say things like, "You actually like brie?" And the answer is, "Yes. I do." But this was someone about whom you'd say, "I choose to be exactly unlike this person in every way possible," partly because of this failure to understand that likes and dislikes are a matter of opinion, feeling, and preference, and not a measure of one's superiority or lack thereof.
So in this spirit, if you, or my correspondent, or whoever, does not like Barry Bonds, hell, I can understand that. Despite the fact that I do defend the guy a lot, I'm not sure how crazy I am about the guy, and I've said so many times. There are plenty of players and other baseball people whom I strongly dislike, and the reasons aren't necessarily rational or easy to put a finger on. Why don't I like Mark McGwire, for instance? I guess because he's always struck me as grumpy, but so what? Tony LaRussa? I guess it's that expressionless arrogance that drives me nuts, and I get a special charge out of the Giants beating his team. But for most of the guys in baseball whom I don't like, the answer to the question "Why?" is, "Because I just don't."
I hear that a lot with regard to Bonds, and that's fine. I respect that way more than the standard, boring reasons we hear all the time:
It's all old ground, and it gets recited so often that it's taken on almost mythic proportions, but I'm convinced that these reasons are given more for the purpose of convenience and justification of a feeling than anything else.
It is true that Bonds has not excelled in the postseason, not by a mile. But to what standards is he being held? If his playoff performance is being compared to his season performance, well, then the observation that he does worse in the postseason than during the season is correct -- but the way this is treated is as though what he did during the season doesn't matter -- as if any of his playoff teams could've gotten anywhere without him. Pretty silly. (I will say, though, that when he pops up on a 2-0 pitch with the bases loaded, I start calling him names, and I get far more annoyed than I would with somebody like Alex Diaz or something. I'm not immune to the "If he makes that much money, he's gotta come through" thing either.)
Also, you'll notice that no one talks about Joe Morgan, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle, Mike Schmidt, or Reggie Jackson -- Hall-of-Famers all, whose company Bonds will join -- as postseason chokers, and yet:
Morgan's World Series performances were also unspectacular for the most part, though he did hit .333 in 1976 (when his Reds swept the Yankees), with a double, a triple, and a home run. But despite one World Series and five playoff series in which he hit .154 or less, I sure don't see him called a choker. Anybody who labeled him that way would be shouted down thus: "You're a moron. Do you think his teams would've gotten anywhere near the postseason without him?" (Well, when you're talking about the Reds, with the likes of Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, Tony Perez, Dave Concepcion, Ken Griffey, maybe so... but then, maybe not.)
I'm not trying to say that these fabulous players were postseason chokers. Not at all. In most cases, they had several opportunities to prove that they belonged in the postseason; in most cases, they had great supporting casts. Bonds has had neither. And yet he's a choker because he hasn't won his team a World Series, or even a pennant. Well, with the Giants, he's only had one chance: last year. He had a pretty good supporting cast -- but far from a great one. He was expected to carry the team, and he couldn't. No one player can. I don't think you're gonna see a hell of a lot of players winning league, playoff, and Series MVPs, all in the same year. For those who do, I tip my hat to 'em.
Who's to say Bonds won't be a monster in future postseason play? Who's to say he'll get there? And if he doesn't, is that his fault? "Sure," some people will say -- the same people who'll say that the Giants lost the division in 1993, despite 103 wins, because Bonds couldn't get it done. (Never mind his amazing performance down the stretch, either.)
Bonds doesn't always rush to play a line drive hit into the corner. He'll trot on over, maybe have a bit of trouble picking it up, then throw a three-hopper toward the infield, and the batter will wind up with a double. Well, you know what would happen if he'd zoomed on over, speared the ball on a bounce or two, and fired a strike to second base? The batter would wind up with a double.
In the 1997 Division Series he got ripped for not once but twice -- after hammering deep shots off the Teal Monster in left field in Miami -- for not running these into triples. Criminy. These were hit to left field. How often do batters triple to left field? For crying out loud, the fact a couple of batters did so in the 1919 World Series is considered evidence that Shoeless Joe Jackson was in on The Fix.
I have said many times here and in the Giants newsgroup that it bothers me that he doesn't hustle as much as I'd like, and the response, generally, is, "Yeah, but given the overall package, can't you stand just a little bit of nonchalance?" And the answer is, yes. Damn right.
Bonds will also tell you what he can't do -- for instance, he said after the All-Star Game that Larry Walker played center because he, Bonds, can't. Well, we've seen Bonds play center, but evidently he's not comfortable there. But is this honesty? Naw. It has to be selfishness.
And we've seen writers and fans say, "If he were as good as he thinks he is, he'd play center field, which would help the team more. However, his arm's too weak." I submit that he's not trying to prove otherwise. (For crying out loud, if Glenallen Hill were as good as he evidently thinks he is, he'd be playing center, batting fourth, and winning Triple Crowns every year. And Grammies, too, probably.) Bonds plays left field because his arm's too weak to play center. He knows that. He throws as well as he needs to -- generally -- to be a class left fielder. But he's seen as selfish for not moving to a more demanding position because he's "afraid" that this would showcase his defensive weaknesses. Selfish... smart... you make the call. My call: smart.
The stuff about how he's "not a team player" is, I think, just a projection of fans' and writers' dislike of him. I mean, do you ever hear about people disliking guys who obviously are team players? Bonds doesn't wanna be in the Home Run Contest before the All-Star Game. Why, that selfish bastard! He says this is become the team comes first -- i.e., Home Run Contests can screw up your swing, and the Giants need for that not to happen way more than ESPN needs him to do it. But no -- he doesn't participate because he's lazy, or doesn't feel like it, or doesn't care about the fans. (Who in baseball does care about the fans? But that's beside the point.) I just wonder why he should give the fans even more of an opportunity to root for him to fail.
Writers and fans -- who have nothing to go on except what they read -- continually trash Bonds as someone who doesn't get along with his teammates because he's so moody and surly. Never do they actually quote anybody on this, though, except Shawon Dunston, who after 1996 said that Bonds should make more of an effort to be a nice guy -- even though he, Dunston, "loves" Bonds. We see the occasional article in which some writer says, "Sources close to the team indicate that Bonds is the most hated player on the club." What sources? What quotes, even? In some cases, I'm guessing that the writer has defined himself as a "source close to the team."
My take -- also based in large part on what I've read -- is that Bonds, for the past couple of years, has made a lot of effort to get along with his teammates. I see him clowning around in the dugout with J.T. Snow, or giving someone a hug after a huge hit -- this doesn't sound like a difficult person. On the other hand, we hear about his postgame fight with Danny Darwin early in the season, which has to make us wonder just how nice a guy Bonds really is. Still, I don't know that I've ever heard of Darwin characterized as a sweetheart, either, so I'm not ready to pin the Bad Guy label on Bonds for this - - or Darwin, for that matter.
Overall, I'm convinced that fans generally don't like Bonds because the media portrays him as an incredible asshole, and they portray him that way because he doesn't like them, either. He has no reason to trust the media, because so many of its members will rip him for a single to tie the game when a home run would've won it. I say it all comes down to money -- that is, jealousy, on the part of many writers, because Bonds makes so damn much of it. He's treated as though he makes a billion dollars a year and he doesn't measure up -- and frankly, I don't see where his salary is the business of the media or fans. I want the guy to come through because he's a San Francisco Giant, not because he's a rich San Francisco Giant.
I'm just tired of all the bloody criticism of Bonds in the papers, which has become mindless, vindictive, and a showcase for the Power of the Press. Write about something else, folks.
I think Rod Beck has actually had one or maybe two good appearances, though I do remember him giving up a triple off the wall his first time out. But aside from that (assuming I'm not misremembering), I believe Ben's right.
"Everyone got lit up in that pathetic game, except Maddux and Wells," says Billy. "That was the most brutal All-Star Game I've ever seen: wild pitches, passed balls, 20 errors by six different second basemen... it wasn't even the fun kind of offensive outburst. Bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, error, error, homer, bloop, bloop... Ugh."
Whereas for Nen it was more like: Bloop, bleeder, bloop, bleeder, error, bloop, bleeder.... Yecch. As EEEEEE! Contributing Editor David Beck put it, "It can't just be that Bonds could give the National League three runs. Nen had to give them back."
The Baseball Gods giveth. The Baseball Gods taketh away. Then they don't giveth. Then they taketh away some more.
But still, sometimes they giveth. The San Francisco Chronicle's headline included the phrase, "Bonds homer wasted."
"Not wasted for me," says Jim. "One of my favorite All-Star moments ever, even making up for the predictable 'Giants Pitcher In Peril' spot, with Robb Nen in the starring role this year (I sort of think of Atlee as 'owning' the role, in the same manner that Yul Brynner does the King and I... oh, their will be others, but none with that 'I'm broken now' joie de vivre.)
"Congrats to Barry Bonds, the best damn baseball player I've ever seen."
The Rangers won the first game of their series at the 'Stick -- I didn't see most of that game, as I was visiting with Baseball Prospectus writer Greg Spira, who was in the area for the SABR convention in San Francisco. The game was on at the pizza joint we went to, but as it happened, I sat directly under the TV, so I was never quite sure what was going on. And I got charged twice for a single pizza, which, right there, is the essence of EEEEEE! But Greg is a terrific guy, which more than made up for these minor inconveniences. (For one thing, he understood perfectly that if I'd chosen to sit where I could see the TV, I wouldn't have heard most of our conversation, which isn't his fault....)
The game was certainly unsatisfying. In a pattern that was to repeat itself throughout the series, the Giants loaded the bases with nobody out in the first and scored a couple of runs, but this time they didn't do much beyond that, even against Darren Oliver, who'd been going just terribly lately.
The next day saw the Giants down 5-2 late, but the Rangers -- evidently honoring the phony telegram from ownership that I sent them saying "Leave your gloves at home" -- combined misplays with the Giants' timely hitting, and lost it 6-5 in extra innings, with pinch-runner Shawn Estes scoring the game-winner on a bloop single by Darryl Hamilton.
"Yeah," says Jon R., "I was at the game and it was fun and exciting, but... still unsettling. The Giants looked overmatched. I supposed it isn't entirely fair to compare the Giants' offense without Kent to the Rangers (of all teams). I suppose even doing that type of one-dimensional comparison (just offense, not taking into account other aspects of the games) is futile and nonproductive. But it is rather irritating to watch the other team appear to take batting practice during the game while the Giants are getting on base mainly due to walks and errors.
"Maybe it's Jeff Kent's absence, but I'm getting a little leery of the Giants' ability to keep winning these types of games. It's not that I doubt the team's resolve, management's leadership ability, etc., but it simply doesn't seem like a viable way to continue to win enough games to grab a postseason spot and then be competitive in the postseason. I guess what I'm saying is that it seems like an longshot as far as odds go.
"But hell, that's what makes this team so watchable, I guess.
"Perhaps it's just the lazy fan in me that wants a big bruiser team that goes out and bashes the hell out of the opposition and establishes total and utter domination by the fifth inning."
Tim I. says, "Just when the season seems to be slipping away and the Padres think they are the '27 Yankees, today's game gave me renewed hope. This game reminded me a lot of the '93 and '97 teams with its ability to weather a miserable start and get the bullpen to shut the enemy down while Our Boys clawed back.
"Even the Hambone bloop in the tenth was a lot like the clutch -- err, lucky, if you're Gary Huckabay -- bleeders the Giants got to routinely win games in those years.
"But the damn Pads still won. When Sterling Hitchcock pitches a complete game two-hitter, something is going wrong in the cosmos. They have a better record than the Braves now. That should provide some perspective."
"To be honest," says Carlos, "I pretty much wrote 'em off today when I heard that the score was 5-2."
"As did I," says Dan M., "especially with Julian Tavarez coming in, the bags jammed, and no one out. I told my wife that he was sure to let in the three runners and that we might just as well keep me in an even mood by not listening to it happen. Ergo, I take full credit for Julian's [terrific] performance, and will accept the Earnest Ragging hat pin for the win."
"Woo-hoo!" says Greg L. "Way to go, Dan. Contact Gregg for the pin and the free EEEEEE! shirt."
Wow! There's a hat pin? Cool!
"And having re-thunk the whole thing, and knowing where I would get the hat pin, I will pass on that," says Dan.
As for the EEEEEE! shirt, I do try and let winners know that this item -- and it's important to me to make it clear that it's a free item -- is as yet nonexistent, which is what makes it so easy to offer.
"But for a non-existent tEEEEEE! shirt, for frEEEEEE, how could I lose?"
Gary Washburn of the Contra Costa Times says, that "the Rangers did commit five errors, including one by [third baseman] Luis Alicea that allowed pinch-runner Shawn Estes to reach second base and later score the winning run in the Giants' 6-5, 10-inning victory at 3Com Park."
That's sort of true. Brian Johnson was the hitter, and he hammered one at Alicea -- who played the ball off to the side -- and wound up on second base, at which time Estes replaced him on the bases.
"This win, however, has to be attributed partly to a bullpen that sought to hold Texas down and hope the recently slumping offense finally would come to life," says Washburn. "Both things occurred."
"Julian Tavarez pitched four scoreless innings and stopped the Rangers from inflicting further damage after inheriting a bases-loaded, no-outs situation in the third inning.
"Tavarez lowered his ERA to 2.89. And despite not factoring in the decision, this game had to feel more rewarding than his previous few outings because he so dramatically shut the door on the Rangers. He entered in the third and induced a lineout from Texas pitcher John Burkett on which Tavarez doubled up Bill Haselman at third. Next, he got Roberto Kelly to hit a comebacker to end the inning.
"'I haven't been pitching that well, so to come out with no earned runs feels good,' Tavarez said. 'You always think about the double-play ground ball when you're in that situation. You think about allowing one run. But none? Boy, that's great.'
"Steve Reed and Robb Nen pitched the final four innings and allowed a combined two hits. In that stretch, the Giants were chipping away at the Texas lead. They finally tied it on back-to-back RBI singles by Stan Javier (three hits) and Bill Mueller in the seventh."
Mark Fainaru-Wada of the San Francisco Examiner says, "Darryl Hamilton felt for Roberto Kelly, felt for what Kelly went through in the seventh inning of the Giants' game against the Rangers at Candlestick on Saturday.
"Hamilton, the Giants center fielder, watched as Kelly, the Rangers center fielder, made errors on consecutive plays. Kelly twice had trouble fielding singles, and both miscues allowed runners to move extra bases.
"'It's very easy to get frustrated in the outfield here,' Hamilton said. 'You get frustrated from the wind and try to do things you aren't supposed to be trying.... You never know what's going to happen in the outfield when you're playing at 3Com or Candlestick or whatever you want to call it.' Kelly had gone 119 consecutive games without an error. The last time a Rangers outfielder committed two errors in one inning was May 1, 1984, when Gary Ward turned the trick."
That's very charitable of Hamilton. I felt not at all sorry for Kelly. Not at all.
As Fainaru-Wada puts it, "Hamilton [hit] a sinking-rising-sinking liner into left-center, where Tom Goodwin's lunging effort [failed] and Estes [came] around for the win."
"That was a pretty pathetic play," says Satoshi. "Goodwin actually took a step backwards before coming forward. A good center fielder would have made that play easily." That's what I thought. It looked as though he took a rather circuitous route -- as if the wind played games with the ball or something.
"Besides, if he played the ball on a hop (and disguised it well), Estes couldn't have scored."
So deep is my sorrow e'en now for the Rangers that I'm wringing my hands even as I type, which explains all the tyxpojgurakphi7cal err5r5rors.
I felt even less sorry for the Rangers the next day, when Mark Gardner threw a three-hit shutout at them. Didn't bother me a bit, partly because that meant that this time, Will Clark didn't hit a home run against the Giants, as he had in both previous games.
Just about as nice was J.T. Snow's opposite-field grand slam against All-Star Aaron Sele -- Snow really picked it up going into the break (but has done little in the two whole games since). "Snow has been a revelation in the last week," writes Henry Schulman of the Chronicle. "He returned from his mother's funeral on Monday not rusty after a wrenching ordeal that caused him to miss five more games, but hot as a fireplace poker. He has six hits in 20 at-bats since, including two doubles and two homers.
"Snow believes that his many absences this season have yielded a paradoxical benefit now.
"'We're halfway through the season, but I still feel like it's April or May because my season has been so choppy,' he said. 'I was gone four days in May, and then my shoulder was banged up, and that cost me five or six starts. I was gone the last week for five games. That all adds up to a chunk of a half a month or so.
"'My focus is on the game again,' Snow said. 'Not that it wasn't before, but this game is hard enough when there's nothing else on your mind. When your mind is clouded, I don't think you see the ball and concentrate as well as you can.'"
Evan Grant of the Dallas Morning News says, "The Rangers said it was no coincidence the errors came at wind-blown 3Com Park, which has a reputation for playing tough even though the Giants lead the National League in fielding percentage.
"'I've seen Candlestick Park do this to more than one team,' said [Will] Clark, who played for the Giants from 1986 through '93. 'This used to be one of the best infields in the league as far as hops go. Now, it's terrible. Every infielder on that team complained to me. Nobody had anything good to say about it.'"
"Every infielder except the Giants' ones, apparently," says Richard. "I guess the hops don't bother them as much. Remember when Roger Craig mandated that there would be no further complaining about Candlestick by Giant players? The Giants eventually turned the park into a big home-field advantage. Funny that Will would now fall victim to just that."
See, we don't have to like Will anymore. He's gone. Defected.
"The one thing I 'like' about the 'Stick is that it's a boot camp for improving one's defense," says Carlos. "If you can master the 'Stick, you can play anywhere."
He's got a point....
"Indeed," says Tim I. "The bottom of the order was horrible; the 1-5 hitters were getting on base all night."
"The guys on either side of Richie in the batting order left only one runner on base between them (Javier had the one and Jater had zero)," says Jeff, "For a little while, that confused me, but I noticed that Stan had two walks and two hits, which obviously helped in that category, while J.T. must've benefited from Richie ending at least two or three innings (that line-out double play must've ended an inning, and I know he also made the final out in the ninth)."
"Granted," says Jeff, "Dusty made it sound like some of that was just bad luck, but that's a lot of runners left on base. Aurilia must've hit some 'at-'em' balls -- including the double play."
"Yeah," says Tim, "based on what I saw, Richie had some decent at-bats. It wasn't as if he kept popping up or taking a called third strike. It's hard to blame someone for stranding runners if they're hitting the ball hard."
Know what's funny about this? My feeling -- and indeed probably that of a lot of us -- was, "Man, tough night for Richie." Had it been Bonds, though, I'd've been pissed (and so would a lot of us), and he would've been ripped in some paper somewhere for it.
"Yeah, I could picture R.E. Graswich licking his chops over something like that," says Jeff.
Game two had a nicer ring, though: Bill Mueller won it with a late three-run homer after failing twice to bunt the runners over. "Okay, so Estes was a pinch-runner at third, and not pitching in this game, but Mueller's home runs only seem to come when Estes is in the boxscore, don't they?" says Brian I.
"Yep," says Tim I. "At least Billy, Jater, and Javier have been hitting lately, and it's nice to see Bonds finally get a dinger with Kent out of the lineup.
"What I can't understand is this: Mueller gets the three-run jack. Hayes doubles. Jate is coming up against a lefthanded pitcher. "My, I know that Greg Cadaret stunk, but could he be worse against Snow batting righty than a right-handed pitcher against Snow batting lefty? I never thought I'd see someone relieve a lefty to bring in a righty to pitch to Snow. Thanks for the free insurance run, coach."
"Wasn't Mike Krukow's prediction of what Hambone would do in the top of tenth almost scary?" says Clayton. "I'll have to grant that Krukow certainly knows his baseball."
Here's what he's talking about: With El Bone up there in a sacrifice situation, Krukow barely had the time to get these words (more or less) out of his mouth, before it actually happened: "With the way the lefty Cadaret falls off the mound toward the third-base side, it wouldn't surprise me to see Hamilton bunt one hard toward second base and beat it out." So he did. A liner just over Cadaret's glove, with the first baseman heading toward the ball and the second baseman heading over toward first. Nothing the Angels could do.
This also amazed me because usually when Krukow says something, the exact opposite happens -- "Yeah, Darwin's locked in. The net pitch: hit high and deep to left field...." He's the 1990s version of Ron Fairly, with the chief difference being that Kruk's fun to listen to.
Mueller then was called upon to sacrifice, and he bunted foul twice. Clearly the bunt was on for the 0-2 pitch -- as Krukow said later, Mueller's body language showed that he was ticked at being asked to bunt then, standing there as he did, taking the signs with his hands on his hips. I was thinking, "Aw, geez, we bunt, and then up comes Bonds, who obviously will be walked, and then what?" But as Mueller squared to bunt, Cadaret obliged by throwing a wild pitch, which put the Giants in Lick Your Chops City -- I mean, they're not gonna walk Mueller intentionally with Bonds on deck, let alone with a 1-2 count, so they had to come in... and Mueller skied one over the wall in left. Oh, just a little sweet.
"Billy Moo showed me up, too," says Carlos. "I figured he would get the good bunt down, but I absolutely stated that he would not gun one out. Only on the drive home did I take into account the Estes factor.
"This is the second time in the last few days that Estes has been used as a pinch-runner, the last being the game-winning run against Texas in the 6-5 win. I guess Estes is a throwaway runner. It's cool, but it's so strange."
Well, he's really not a throwaway runner -- he's awfully damn fast -- maybe as fast as anybody on the team. He's the 1998 version of Scott Garrelts, who was a jet on the basepaths.
"I think if you look close enough, you'll see Billy M's face light up every time he looks into Shawn's baby blues," says James R. "I think maybe he's trying to impress Mr. Estes so that all the screaming young teenagers don't take him away... well, maybe not. In any case, Mueller may actually be a true home-run hitter some day, although his swing certainly isn't built that way. He's on pace for 12 this year -- about 10 more than anybody thought he might hit."
"Anyone else notice how softly the Anaheim infielders throw balls to first?" says Kent. "I've never seen so many lobbed throws in a three-game series in my entire life! They made a lot of easy plays very close -- just ask Stan Javier [who beat out a double play that should've ended an inning but instead lead to further scoring]." I have the feeling that's "stylin'." Seen it a lot this year, and Javier's been the beneficiary at least a couple of times. It's not that I think everybody should just heave the ball full-force like Shawon Dunston, but I don't see the sense in making a play close when it doesn't have to be. Hey, perhaps the first baseman needs that extra nanosecond to gain full possession or something....
Almost apropos of this, but not: Ever notice, during pregame warmups, that even average players play catch from, like, hundreds of feet away, and whip these perfect throws with minimal effort -- throws that any of us would have to go all out to make? It's really something.
"My God, yes," says Dan. "I have been envious of this ability for quite a while now. Every game, it still amazes me to see these guys nonchalantly come over the top and throw a ball nearly two hundred feet, almost always shoulder level to the guy they are playing catch with. What a simple fundamental pleasure just playing catch with that rhythm must be."
Of course, the headline to a chronicle by Tim Keown of the San Francisco Chronicle gave me the jitters: "The Dodgers Have Finally Bottomed Out." I figured that the Baseball Gods would be wetting themselves over this, and that we should expect plagues in the Bay Area, starting with locusts, I'm guessing.
"Part of me thinks we might as well enjoy this whole show right now," says Richard, "because we are going to be paying for it well into the next millennium anyway."
"This is the week the Dodgers became the Sacramento Kings," writes Keown." Does he just not know how dangerous it is to say things like this around here?
"They can't win with Gary Sheffield and Bobby Bonilla and Charles Johnson, so they've decided to take the opposite approach. You don't win with stars, after all, you win with Glenn Hoffman.
"Glenn Hoffman -- there's your answer.
"You know what Hoffman did to earn the promotion from Albuquerque to Los Angeles? He led the Dukes to a stellar 27-41 record this season."
In fairness, I'm not sure I care what his record is, and what it has to do with his ability. He might be a terrific manager. I hope not, certainly.
(Interesting self-contradictory stuff above: the sarcasm in the "you can't win with stars, so try this candy-ass manager" stuff, followed by "the Dukes suck because Hoffman sucks." In other words, the first part is, "Hoffman can't make the Dodgers a winner," and the second part is, "Hoffman made the Dukes a loser.")
"Bill Russell came out and raked Tommy Lasorda, calling him a duplicitous back-stabber," Keown continues. "The folks in the bleachers at Candlestick could have told Russell as much years ago.
"Russell's bitterness came at about the same time Lasorda was doing interviews in which he lowered his voice and lamented the awful events that led to the dismissal of Russell, whom he called 'one of my dearest friends.'
"And then on Thursday night, the capper: The Dodgers, the saintly Dodgers, showed up on television wearing those unforgivable batting-practice jerseys in a game against the Angels.
"The jerseys settled it: The Dodgers are done."
Attention, Jewish people reading this: Now would be a good time to dip the blade of your knife in a cup of Manischewitz and touch your plate with it, ten times.
"For us non-Jewish people," says Richard, "is that roughly the same as praying feverishly and sacrificing fattened lambs?"
I don't know. Is it a regular thing for non-Jewish people to sacrifice fattened lambs? (I've seen the "praying feverishly" part.
"Well, uh... I mean... some people, uh, well... never mind. Though I do enjoy a good rack of lamb sometimes."
He did that on purpose, didn't he? Richard's trying to set me up for a line about a "good rack," isn't he? Well, this is a family installment of season notes, bucko, and I won't even stoop to mentioning such a thing. Guy!
No, in fact, I'm referring to a ritual during the Passover service -- each drop of wine represents one of the Ten Plagues -- which, according to the Passover service book my family has used for over eight million years, is actually millions of plagues, if you can stay awake long enough to do the spurious math as suggested by a bunch of heavily bearded Talmudic scholars you've never heard of.)
"I take it the Dodgers are one of the Ten Plagues?" says Richard. "Maybe number seven? Perhaps not as bad as the bubonic plague, but certainly worse than localized infections."
I've always thought of them as ten plagues all by themselves.
But nothing could dampen Richard's enthusiasm for this series. He called Friday the "Best Day to be a Giants' Fan."
"It shouldn't be like this, but it is," he says. "The Giants are a fine team this year, and I am properly consumed by them as always, but only today am I finally really alive with Giant fever.
"That's because the Dodgers are in town, of course.
"For the first time since the night before Opening Day, I went to bed last night thinking about the next day's game. Visions of Mike Marshall gesturing at Roger Craig in front of 50,000 crazed Dodger haters kept passing in front of my eyes. The call of Lon Simmons as Mike Ivie hit a grand slam off Don Sutton echoed in my ears. Barry Bonds hitting two homers at Dodger Stadium to keep the Giants tied on the next-to-last day of 1993 came to mind. And, of course, Brian Johnson hitting one of the two or three greatest San Francisco Giants home runs of all time.
"Of course, I also know that whatever happens, the Giants will be screwed by the umpires repeatedly. We think it has been bad so far? Umpires don't even pretend to be impartial when the Dodgers play the Giants, and it isn't in our favor that they act. But that's okay (well, it isn't, but I'm waxing poetic now), because it just makes the experience more intense and memorable.
"I am never short of clarity on Dodger/Giant game days. My hatred of the opposition is pure and clear. My expectation of cheating umpire-caused disaster is complete. And my focus on the game coming up is total.
"I am ready. Bring it on, and let's hope we don't get swept by the Dodger thirteen." And we didn't. (And bear in mind, this is the man who said he'd root for the "Independence Day" aliens ahead of the Dodgers, thus voicing how we all feel about them. Except Tjames.)
However, Monte Poole of the Oakland Tribune says, "Dressed in orange and black to profess their faith, they come this weekend to Candlestick Point in droves, by the tens of thousands, to throw the full force of their tonsils at men they barely know."
Come on: "barely know"? Gah! I really resent that. We don't know these people at all.
"Giants fans can't possibly be familiar with these Dodgers, for these Dodgers are not familiar with themselves."
(I think that gettin' familiar with oneself is a Kangaroo Court finin' offense.)
"'The uniform remains the same,' Giants manager Dusty Baker said Saturday, attempting to explain the endurance of what once was a legitimate rivalry, with real animosity.
"Well, the rivalry ain't what it used to be."
It's never been what it used to be, to hear most folks tell it. But I don't doubt for a minute that Giants fans' hatred of the Dodgers has waned even a tiny bit over the years.
"Giants fans on Saturday went to great lengths -- as they did Friday and will do today -- to put hatred in the air," says Poole. "A paid crowd of 41,012 chanted 'Beat L.A.' They singled out a particular Dodger to blister with their boos. These are traditions here, whether the place is called Candlestick or 3Com.
"At least one individual in Dodger blue must be despised."
Fool. They all must be despised.
In fact, Poole sounds like one of two types to me: either someone who grew up a Dodger fan and consequently resents the local sentiment toward his team, or one who wants to establish, in writing, his perceived superiority over the garden-variety fan by attempting to show off his "impartiality."
"A war that began in New York has in its West Coast reincarnation always insisted on at least one magnet for boos," he says. "John Roseboro, Ron Cey, Mike Marshall, Orel Hershiser, Tommy Lasorda and Mike Piazza are but a few.
"Now, it's Raul Mondesi.
"Raul Mondesi.
"A man who has 4 years of major league service and has played maybe 20 games before those who hate him so.
"'Why?' Mondesi asked, smiling. 'Probably because I'm one of the only guys they know.'"
Because he's a Dodger. What's so tough to understand about this?
"And we have Hershiser in a Giants uniform, a TV microphone rigged to his shirt, having a nice little chat with Lasorda -- during the game! Orel was in the dugout, Tommy up in the Fox TV booth."
("No, Bulldog, no!")
Jeff Fletcher of the Santa Rosa Press Democrat says, "Dusty Baker rejected the notion that he was trying to inspire Barry Bonds by telling reporters that he had heard the Dodgers were planning to throw at him, saying instead all he meant to do was protect Bonds.
"'That was my only intent,' he said. 'I think the whole thing was a misunderstanding. I was trying to talk about the Dodgers and not to or about Barry.'
"After Bonds heard that the Dodgers might throw at him -- in retaliation for his showmanship after home runs against them last September -- he was upset at Baker for telling the media, rather than simply telling the Dodgers he wouldn't stand for it.
"Baker said he was warning the Dodgers, through the media.
"Whatever the intent, Bonds went hitless for a second consecutive day. He had no hits and the Dodgers didn't hit him."
Lovely.
In fact, the actual quote from Bonds was, "Dusty can kiss my ass."
Ron Bergman of the San Jose Mercury News notes that "The spat between Manager Dusty Baker and left fielder Barry Bonds apparently is over."
"Despite yeoman efforts by the Bay Area press to keep it going for as long as possible," says Richard. "I mean, I'm sure Barry did send the word to Dusty to kiss his butt, but who was the conduit of this information (plus the previous stuff) while this all was happening? Hint: it probably wasn't Gene Clines."
Bergman continues: "The two men met behind closed doors in the manager's office before Sunday's game.
"'Everything's cool,' Bonds said afterward.
"Baker was more circumspect, saying that he wanted to keep the issue in-house."
"You know, late last week, I went through a trying experience with one of my employees," says Richard -- usually not one to lord over us the fact that he's a boss and gets to make decisions and more money than grunts like me, all while getting tons of worldwide exposure through EEEEEE!, "and over the weekend, I thought some about facing up to personnel issues and dealing with them straight on. I think I'm not bad at dealing with this type of conflict, even when I accidentally have a hand in the conflict's creation, but whenever it happens, it is still a very traumatic thing to deal with. Dusty deals with it all the time, with 25 high-ego guys who are mostly all rich and with whom he more or less has to live with for six months and he seems to do a very good job at it. Take it from me, especially this week, it just isn't as easy as he (or most managers) makes it look."
Bergman says, "The tempest began after Baker told reporters before Friday night's game that he might have to protect Bonds because there were reports Dodgers pitchers were prepared to throw at him."
"The great mystery is whether Dusty precluded the possibility of it happening by exposing the prospect to the light of day," says Richard. "Or, as is more likely, if he just made the whole thing up."
"Bonds apparently was miffed because Baker didn't tell him first," says Bergman.
"Apparently," says Richard.
But the silliest, most contrived, most inappropriate moment in the entire series centered around the Dodgers trading superstud first base prospect Paul Konerko and Fernando clone Dennis Reyes to the Reds for their closer, Jeff Shaw -- who, incidentally, first wore his Dodger uniform at the All-Star Game.
In its coverage, Fox showed Glenn Hoffman and Konerko walking to the clubhouse early in the game. As you no doubt know, the only way to get to the visiting clubhouse at the 'Stick is to walk all the way up past the home dugout, so naturally it must've looked weird to see these guys doing exactly that, for no obvious reason.
I wouldn't have known it was Konerko unless Jon Miller had said so, but once he did, I was thinking, "Please, please trade this guy. Please." And they did. So I'm pretty stoked -- except that this is the Dodgers we're dealing with, so I expect them to come up like a rose, get an amazing performance out of Shaw, and watch Karros turn into Mark McGwire, just to make the point. Oh, and Reyes would throw a perfect game or two, also.
"If Lasorda thinks that teams problems will be solved by adding Jeff Shaw (and opening up a huge gaping hole in the starting rotation), then he is the most deluded man on the planet," says Billy.
He already doesn't see how anyone can hate the Dodgers, so he's already got a leg up on the Most Deluded Man award.
"This is such a bad trade that I feel guilty being happy about it. Konerko alone is worth more than Shaw!"
"I wallow, nay, revel, in the guilt I feel for being so glad," says Dan M. "I had a ball just explaining to my family why I was laughing so much."
"The Dodgers are only one step above Seattle in the Any Bullpen Move We Make Blows Up In Our Face race," says Tim I., taunting the Baseball Gods in full Mock Mode. "And when Reyes and Konerko realize their potential while the Dodgers are trying desperately to stay in a race they are almost out of already, it makes me smile."
"Quiet," says Thomasi. "I was just trying to convince myself that it wasn't as scalp-shrivelingly awful as it obviously is. But it wasn't working even before. I'm a Dodger fan by the way -- you can tell by my nervous demeanor. But thanks for your guilt, it makes me feel a little better. A little."
"This may not be as bad a trade as, say, Larry Anderson for Jeff Bagwell," says Jonathan. "On the other hand, that one may be the worst trade ever."
You know I'm always gonna say, "It's the Dodgers. It'll work out great for them. Screw the evidence!"
"Shaw, for what it's worth, is a pretty decent relief pitcher, although I don't think he's as good as Antonio Osuna, and the bullpen was really not a Dodgers' weakness."
I guess they'd say that the lack of a Save Guy is. Or was.
(By the way, in the letters to the editor in that day's Chronicle, somebody was ripping Dusty for his usage of Robb Nen. I think the basic premise was that closers should be used only in save situations or something -- in other words, a philosophy I've been railing against all season.)
"Konerko is widely regarded as (at least) one of the 10 best prospects in baseball," Jonathan says. "He's 22 this season, and is probably somewhere around league average at first base right now; barring major injury, it would be shocking if he's not an All-Star-level player for the next decade or so."
Again, this is the Dodgers -- that rose-smelling team.
Seriously, my initial reaction was to be stoked beyond belief when I learned that that was Konerko walking up the right field line with Hoffman, because why else would this happen? Of course, my stokitude is terrific Baseball Gods fodder....
Oh, and does anyone else remember this? Eons ago -- 1978, to be exact -- the Dodgers traded pitcher Mike Garman to the Expos. The announcement came down during the game, but Garman still appeared in the game for the Dodgers after the announcement. I'm pretty sure the Giants protested, but probably they won the game, or else the protest would've been upheld. (But wait. This is the Giants. Never mind.)
"Reyes, I don't know what to say about," says Jonathan. "He's very young (21!) and had been rushed through the system. Given that, his year so far has been okay. I wouldn't give up Reyes to get Shaw, but I can see someone arguing the other way.
"In March, the division looked up for grabs this season, but the Dodgers looked like by far the best team for the following five years. Now? They could turn it around, but they've given away their entire advantage over the rest of the division, and there still could be more to come."
Shhhhh! They'll hear you!
Okay, so who do you think pulled the trigger? Lasorda? Or Scary Bob Graziano, the guy with his hand up Tommy's backside, making Tommy move his lips?
IP H R ER BB SO W L ERA
Shaw 49.2 40 11 10 12 29 2 4 1.81
Osuna 39.2 27 10 7 18 47 4 0 1.59
"I threw out saves since I think it's a crap statistic anyway, and also because it unfairly penalizes Osuna, who does not get the amount of save opportunities that Shaw does.
"Coming from someone who thought Shaw was the best closer last year when we were discussing closers we might rather have than Beck (Nen, interestingly enough, wasn't on my Top 10 list last year but is for sure in the top three this year), I was surprised to see how close these guys are. Osuna is clearly a superior strikeout pitcher, but Shaw has allowed fewer runs per inning pitched. Given that Shaw came basically out of nowhere last year to be the Reds closer, the likelihood of him suddenly reverting to pre-1996 form is probably pretty good, especially when you factor in the inconsistency of closers in general.
"I will say that in the short term (which is obviously where Lasorda is thinking), this deal is not as putrid as it seems. Konerko wasn't hitting for the Dodgers and though minor league evidence suggests he will hit, I have a statistically-as-yet-insupportable suspicion about projecting PCL hitters to the majors being less reliable than projecting other leagues. Furthermore, he plays a position that although it is manned by an average to below-average hitter in both LA and San Francisco, is generally well-stocked for most teams at this point. His trade value is probably not near what Adrian Beltre's trade value is because he's basically a first baseman only, though I have read that he can play some third (more of Cincinnati's need anyway). Makes particularly less sense for them because they've got Sean Casey.
"Reyes is not a grade-A pitching prospect, probably could eventually become a Kirk Rueter-type pitcher because of his lack of overpowering stuff. I think the big to-do here was that he was a lefty starter, which LA has been in short supply of, but there seems to be no evidence that he was significantly above average.
"And Shaw is not Swiss cheese either -- the Dodgers got a good player. I still would have given up less than what Lasorda did, but I can understand his thinking a little bit, especially given that he wants to make a big splash as GM. Plus, I think the only thing that keeps the Giants record as high as it does is the ability of the bullpen to hold the majority of leads that they do get, plus keep the other team within striking distance when they have to pitch long relief, so I can understand Lasorda wanting to have two closer types to keep leads through the last third of a game (especially after all the blown saves by Todd Worrell last year).
"Still, the Dodgers would have been better served sending Eric Karros on his way, getting somebody else's pitching or a left fielder, and start playing Konerko and Beltre a lot. And not trading for Bobby Bonilla in the first place."
"I subscribe to 'Total Baseball Daily.'" says Billy. "Today's missive contained a 'Quote of the Day' (well, they all do) from Lasorda. Seems the Giants radio station scooped the trade and made the announcement before Lasorda could. When he heard it, he ran into the media room or wherever, grabbed the Dodger PR guy (a job I would not want to have), and said, 'The Giants have the trade already! What the fuck is going on? Get me on the air!'
"I enjoyed it, and I hope you do, too."
Classic stuff. I just wonder what the hell the difference is who had the trade first.
"All of it was an orchestrated drama for TV, as the trade was completed over an hour before the first pitch," says Gunman. "Pastaman wanted to be the one to break the news on national TV. I think this was supposed to be a 'dramatic sports moment' on Fox. First the long walk by Konerko and Hoffman, then Lasorda explaining it all to us mortals. Instead, it just made the Fox Dodgers look even more in disarray than they already did."
Which tells us that Fox already considers itself and the Dodgers bigger than baseball.
The game itself sucked, too. Mark Gardner got lit up in the first, as has been his wont -- well, it hadn't been lately -- and the Giants never came back. As Joe Roderick says, "Third baseman Charlie Hayes couldn't field Raul Mondesi's grounder, turning it into a triple [Okay, there's your triple to left field. -- GP] and a 2-0 deficit during an eventual 9-5 loss to the Dodgers before 41,012."
Roderick continues: "It wasn't just the opening inning that troubled Gardner, who left after 4-1/3 innings, allowing nine hits and seven runs. He gave up four more runs in the fifth, although he wasn't exactly ripped. Of the five hits in the inning, two didn't leave the infield and another was a slow roller past a diving J.T. Snow at first."
Nice, Jate. (You'll be surprised, or not, to note that neither Baseball Prospectus, The Big, Bad Baseball Annual, nor the STATS 1998 Baseball Scoreboard lists Snow anywhere among the best first basemen, which is annoying 'cause usually he looks awfully damn good to me.)
Ron Bergman of the San Jose Mercury News says, "Lasorda had told reporters 45 minutes before the game that some big news was coming."
"You know," says Richard, "I thought this looked suspicious at the time, and now I know it. The Fox announcers (especially Bob Brenly) were going on and on about what the whole thing could mean, as if they had no clue. Yeah, right.
"If I truly thought this was the best type of stuff Fox could come up with as far as running the Dodgers, I wouldn't be so worried about them."
Bergman writes, "'We knew about the trade an hour before the game,' said a Giants executive who did not want to be identified. 'So why did they have to do it that way?
"'Why did they need a cop (to walk with the two Dodgers)? And why did Hoffman have to go with him? Plus, if they knew about the trade that early, why did they risk injury by letting Konerko take batting practice?'"
"Because it was good TV," Richard says. "That is now the most important factor in all Dodger activity, I guess."
"The reason?" says Bergman. "Perhaps it was that the game was televised on the Fox network, owned by Rupert Murdoch's News Corp., the new owner of the Dodgers."
"Gee, perhaps," says Richard. In other words, Bergy... we're way ahead of you....
"The leisurely stroll to the visitors' clubhouse was shown on Fox's national telecast, a possible method to illustrate that the new Murdoch-Lasorda-Hoffman regime will do anything to turn this season around," Bergman says.
"Including making stupid trades," Richard counters.
As were we all, though, Richard was mighty stoked about the Giants victory in the first game of the series, which happened to be Fireworks Night at the 'Stick. He says, "First of all, yeeeeeaaaaaaah! No matter how screwed up the Dodgers are, beating them is always great. Hope we can pull out one more this weekend.
"Now, as someone who had to watch the game on Channel 2:
[Oh, I'm long tired of that one, to the point where I start channel-surfing when it comes on. -- GP]
[Oh, Richard, that's too easy. You're a Giants fan. The question is answered. -- GP]
[Two words about Fireworks Night at the 'Stick, from someone who was there: never again. -- GP]
[I did, I'm telling you. You couldn't hear yourself think. Great crowd, very into it. A friend of my wife's invited us all to join her and her family, which was very kind of her, but the seats were in Section 62 -- right in back of second base. Literally. I mean, we saw what the center field cameraman sees -- provided we were using binoculars at the time. Oh, and we were in upper boxes, which means we paid extra to sit there. However, as frightening as that sounded before we got there, it really turned out just fine -- it really did; it's not nearly as remote as you'd think. It's nothing like the upper-deck seats in left-center, which are astonishingly bad. The only real trauma was in getting there, parking, and leaving. Oh, and my son being four years old and going to a game mere days after I vowed not to take him again for a few years.
What happened, see, is that I said, "Okay, family, as an experienced Giants fan and longtime Attender Of Games At The 'Stick, I hereby decree that we shall leave no later than 5:30 p.m. for the 7:35 start, in an effort to park in the main lot, near an exit, where I like to park. Harrumph!" Well, I was only off by about five hours, I think. We left around 5:15, with a quarter-tank of gas, and got up to the "3Com Park" exit inside half an hour. We didn't park until about 7:10. In the last, farthest-possible dirt lot -- in fact, we parked on weeds. (It was at least as bad as my pennant-clinching parking experience, but my excuse is that I had a doctor's appointment before that game.) By the time I shut off the car, the gas tank couldn't have contained more than six drops of gasoline, so after the game I decided that we'd get to the car and sit there -- armed with my wife's friend's cell phone just in case -- until the outbound traffic thinned out enough for us to have a reasonably straight shot out of the ballpark. Well, we did just fine, and the car didn't start to buck until we were in the left-hand turning bay near the gas station we went to.
Aside from that, the fact that my child tried to hop the railing in the upper deck (which would have led to a disturbingly long drop, not to mention funeral expenses for at least two of us, 'cause I'd've gone after him), and the fact that the Candlestick people insisted that we outfield upper-deck patrons take a hike in the eighth inning so's we could see the fireworks from lower, safer ground with better visibility, everything went fine -- though I must say that it was a weird feeling leaving my seat before the top of the ninth in a Giants-Dodgers game with Robb Nen on the hill to collect a save. By the time the game ended, we were safely ensconced in the left-field bleacher seats behind the left-field bleacher seats -- i.e., the orange ones near the JumboTron, which they don't sell anymore. You might say we had limited visibility inasmuch as we could see not one square centimeter of the field, but we at least heard Nen polishing off the Dodgers -- specifically the nearly departed Paul Konerko, if I recall correctly.
With about five minutes to go before the fireworks show, my son announced that he needed to get to a bathroom now, so we journeyed canward, where my suspicion that a huge percentage of male baseball fans never had mothers was confirmed. My God, people clearly, deliberately peed onto the dispensers of those toilet-seat covers that are "for your protection." They peed on the floor -- which is amazing, since the floorspace is such that in each stall, if you were to pee blindfolded, you'd probably have a better chance of hitting the toilet than the floor. When we got back, the show was in full swing... and my kid had a ball. -- GP]
[Bottom line: it's really disturbing. -- GP]
[You shouldn't've said that, man. You just shouldn't've. -- GP]
Copyright ©1998 by Gregg Pearlman
Last updated 7/13/98 Gregg Pearlman, gregg@EEEEEEgp.com