Baseball Diary Vol II #3

Los Angeles May 31, 1983

Cover by Jagne Parkes: Presentation in the Temple

"In Japan, 'Chrees-masu' is of course an adopted holiday. So, appropriately, it is recast as a cross between Halloween and New Year's Eve. Santa Claus in the department store is usually female, and at office parties she is often nude....When Christmas night fell, and it was time to go to the pah-tay, my translator objected that I had not put on my costume. You have to wear a silly costume at Chrees-masu. And the men have to do their own makeup - lipstick, rouge, eye shadow.. My translator turned into an outre-space person swathed in crinkly aluminum foil and topped with crazy antennae, and carried a little of disappearing ink to splash on startled guests; I turned into a transvestite baseball player. With my Giants cap and jacket, female face, and crazy green swimming trunks pulled over orange long johns, I was the 'srender shortstop'. The fun had begun."
Raymond Mungo Confessions from Left Field

"Almost all the white ash used in Louisville Slugger bats is from trees in northern and eastern Pennsylvania. The ideal white ash for bat-making is produced by a tree grown on a ridge crest, or on a north- or east-facing slope. Such sites usually have the richer soils and high moisture retention that result in steady, moderately rapid growth. Because those places are favorable to trees, timber stands there are usually rather dense and the young ashes are forced to develop straight, tall boles to get their share of light. it takes from seventy-five to a hundred years to grow the kind of clean, straight-grained ash tree that (Hillerich & Bradsby) prefers for its baseball bats."
John Madson
Audobon Magazine

"A pitcher with a sore arm visits his doctor. The doctor advises him to soak the arm in hot water. The arm gets worse. The pitcher's cleaning woman suggest ice. When the pain vanishes, the pitcher goes back to the doctor and inquires, 'Why did you recommend hot water? My cleaning woman recommended ice and the arm got well.' The doctor responds, 'That's funny. My cleaning woman told me hot water was better.'"
Baseball humor

"What's invisible and smells like carrots? A rabbit fart."
4th grade humor


Report from Los Angeles
by The Editor

Memorial Day weekend. Hot. Beginning of summer. I was at the theatre playing costume master for a production of WILD OATS, recently discovered (make that re-discovered) 18th Century comedy brought into the public consciousness again by the Royal Shakespeare Company. It was Friday night and I was trying to forget the awful feeling of a second loss in a row to the Giants right here in Dodger Stadium. Meanwhile, Donna was nursing a wretched stomach with chicken soup and prescriptions. She was coasting into the last half hour of THE SOUND OF MUSIC on television when her world was literally shaken by a loud crash. She sprang up from the pillows she was reclining on and ran to the window. On her way, there was a loud explosion that sent a blinding flash of white light into the dimly lit apartment. She recoiled, slightly blinded. The TV started sputtering and the picture went out for a few seconds. She shook her head and groped her way to the window. Three stories down, across the railroad tracks, there were a group of people surrounding a car that had smashed into a telephone pole. Suddenly another, louder explosion cut through the apartment and the television and lights went out. Blackness. She grabbed a robe and ran into the hall. She walked into a darkness so dense she thought she'd been thrown into a giant bowl of giblet gravy. She groped her way to the outside as other residents came out of their places, but there weren't many other people around, most of them having gone out of town for the holiday. When she got to the outside looked across the courtyard and over the distant hill was a crimson, radioactive glow. One of her neighbors came stumbling outside.

"What's going on?" He was practically delirious.

"I think a fire's started."

He ran back to his place, screaming for his roommate to get the hell out of there. Donna made her way downstairs and through the gate at the entrance. Down the street, the El Salvadoran refugee community was out in full force, trying to figure out what was going on. Donna saw another neighbor and asked what was happening. He was gesticulating like a madman, one hand free to express his views in what he considered the proper way, the other hand jealously clutching a bottle of wine.

"There's some guy out there trying to electrocute himself! I saw him grab two lines from the telephone pole and put 'em together and then there was all this noise! Migod, we're all gonna fry!"

Donna slapped him, made her way cautiously back upstairs, and awaited my return in the dark.

The next night I was feeling considerably better. The lights were back on, Fernando Valenzuela had shut out the accursed Frisco team, and I was in a better mood in the Los Angeles City College theatre dressing room. Meanwhile, back at the apartment, a new tenant was reaching the breaking point. He was a disturbed man. The first time I met him, he asked me about my sexuality, and confessed that he was confused about his. And in the next breath he started talking about his job at the mortuary. I didn't think too much about him one way or the other, not even when he almost rear ended my Dodge Colt with his black funeral van. After all, there was another guy in the apartment, Steve Yeager's cousin as a matter of fact, who drove around in a hearse all the time and dressed up like Dracula two or three times a week. But this new tenant was troubled. And on this Saturday night, with a girl friend under one arm and a bad grudge under the other, he took out his rifle and handgun and started shooting up the building. Something about his ex-wife just ticked him off. He fired a few rounds off the balcony and retired.

The next day my neighbor came by and gave me the rifle and pistol in question. Seems he and another neighbor, a guy who works out with Lou Ferigno and Arnold Schwartzenegger, paid the tenant a visit and took his toys from him. And I got them for safekeeping. The next day, he was kicked out.

And the Giants won three out of four in Chavez Ravine.


Report from Oakland
by The Fearless Forecaster

Jeez, why didn't you warn me? I took my latest copy of BD out of its envelope when it came in the mail yesterday, and that front cover almost blew my eyes out. Whew! I stumbled around my apartment for two hours to see well enough again to hit a slider. Your art director has really outdone herself this time and I think she deserves an award or something. And that photo essay by Mr. Hastings, well, what can I say about the ol' slugger that hasn't already been said? If only he could have fielded his position as well as he handles a Nikon. (Editors Note: Jack Hastings used to play first base for a softball team called The Power Elite.) I tip my lens cap to him.

Now, about KKKwiz #2. That first kwestion is kind of a lob, isn't it? Our 27th president, William Howard Taft, was the first chief executive to throw out the first ball on Opening Day (by the way, always capitalize "Opening Day", just like Christmas of Bob Dylan's Birthday), in 1910. The game? The Philadelphia Athletics were in town to play the Senators. Walter Johnson pitched a one-hitter and Washington won, 1-0.

I hate to mention this, but Kwestion 2 has a teensy-weensy misprint in it. The first and only Opening Day no-hitter occurred on April 16, 1940, not 1960. Its author was Bob Feller, who was 21 years old that year and beginning his fifth season with Cleveland. Yeah, that's right, Rapid Robert was pitching in the bigs when he was 16. He had a pretty good year in 1940, too. He led the AL in games, games started, complete games, innings pitched, strike outs, shutouts, and ERA. Oh, and wins, he was 27-11. Say, how old is Fernando this year, anyhow? Anyway, it was Feller's first no-no (he pitched two more). The opponent was Chicago (it was the first no-hitter pitched in Comisky Park since 1937) and the final score was 1-0. Feller struck out eight and walked five. His mom, dad, and sister, Marguerite, were among the 14,000 in attendance. Mr. Taft missed this opener because he died in 1930.

Incidentally, I know a lot of you are wondering: no, there has never been an Opening Day no-hitter in the NL. There have been a number of one-hitters, however, the last coming on April 17, 1934, by Lon Warneke of the Cubs. How many no-hitters have been pitched in major league history? All right, all right, I'll stop. But say, can you name the no-hitter that was pitched in 1975 by the combined efforts of four different pitchers? And who - ok, ok, enough.


Letters

Dear Ed: There's been a kind of controversy simmering in the sports section of the Chronicle up here. The people over in San Francisco seem to think that Dodger fans are, well, pigs, but I'm not so sure. What do you think? Is Mr. Bonde, whose Chronicle letter is quite restrained in comparison to others, right in his assessment, or is he exaggerating? Another writer claimed that Dodger fans never change their underwear. How about that? I always kind of liked the Dodgers, especially when the Yankees whomped them in the World Series.
Concerned in San Francisco

Dear Concerned: First of all, for the benefit of our readers, M. Bonde's letter read as follows:

DODGER DEMENTIA
Editor: Dodger fans? Only the most obnoxious, no-class self-centered and ignorant fans in all of sports.
PG Bonde, Fremont

Second of all, we think a lot of this animosity is misplaced hatred for the wretched teams trying to play baseball in northern California; after all, how many pennants have they acquired in recent memory? (Oh, sure, Bill Ball came through one year, but their efforts after that were embarrassing to say the least.)

Third of all, concerning personal hygiene - it was our understanding that the reason so few people turn out for Giants or A's games (as opposed to the hordes of astute aesthetes that regularly turn out in LA) had a lot to do with the awful, deathly stench coming from the zombies that file into the games up north. Maybe they're expecting a good bay area rain to wash through. Heaven knows they could use it. For more reasons than one.

Those mellow vibes up there must be twisting your brains - the Dodgers humiliated the Yankees the last time they met in a Series. Oh, one last comment, Concerned. You smell, too.


Ken Koss Kwiz #3:

1) Name the two major leaguers to play all nine positions during a single game (extra points if year and team named).

2) What was the final score with mighty "Casey at the Bat" striking out (extra points if you do NOT read Ernest Thayer)?

3) Time for a physics lesson: A player running around all four bases (home to home) as fast as possible takes more time between 2nd and 3rd base than between 1st and 2nd. Why?


Baseball Diary published and edited by William Fuller

Baseball Diary Vol II #2

April 29, 1983
Los Angeles

Cover by Jagne Parkes

"And hey, barkeep, what's keepin' you, keep pourin' drinks
For all these palookas, hey, you know what I thinks
That we toast to the old days and DiMaggio too
And old Drysdale and Mantle, Whitey Ford and to you."
Tom Waits, "A Sight for Sore Eyes"

"I learned my biggest lesson in managing the first day in Class D. You see these poor kids that shouldn't even be there in the first place. You write on the report card '4-4-4 and out'. That's the lowest rating in everything. Then you call 'em in and say, 'It's the consensus among us that we're going to let you go back home'. Some of 'em cry. Some get mad...(But) if you say it mean enough, maybe they do themselves a favor and don't waste years learning what you can see in a day. They don't have what it takes to make the majors."
Earl Weaver

"Were a man to awaken from sound sleep to the dry-gourd rattle of a diamondback coiled on his chest, head big as a fist, forked tongue flickering, he would to into that dreadful numbness of the ultimate fright."
John D MacDonald

"At Shor's, Joe DiMaggio's friends sat with them and talked about the 1952 pennant races. Marilyn Monroe was bored. She wanted to see the new plays. She wanted to go to the Metropolitan Museum and to visit the hot jazz spots, like Eddie Condon's. Joe didn't care for theatre, music, art. His world was the world of sports, his cronies were sports-loving men like George Solotaire, men who lived in a closed masculine world of gin rummy, sports, betting money talk, inside jokes."
Maurice Zolotow

"This rich verbal tradition - the way the game has taken on the ambiance of the frontier campfire or the farmer's cracker-barrel stove and moved it into the dugout - is what marks baseball so distinctively, not only among our games, but among all our endeavors. Baseball remains, in the best sense, archaic."
Thomas Boswell

"Forward all my mail to the corner of Pork & Beans."
Tom Waits


Report from Oakland
by The Fearless Forecaster

WE'RE NUMBER TWO (IN THE NL WEST): A DODGER FAN HANDBOOK FOR 1983

A few of you may remember the 1982 edition of this handbook, WE'RE NUMBER ONE. I warned you back then that it would be difficult for the Dodgers to repeat in 1982, which turned out to be practically the only prediction I made for that year that was right. The Dodgers begin the 1983 season as the favored team in the NL West, despite a number of question marks about their everyday lineup and their pitching staff. I'm sure that many of you are wondering just how to approach the role of "favorite" with a team that has not proven itself under fire.

1. How do I deal with the collapse at the end of 1982? This, of course, is the first order of business, since the memory of the 8 game losing streak in late September will dog this team throughout 1983. There are two approaches, suggested by the US Government: a) ignore it completely, or b) blame it on the Russians. In other words, if anyone is indelicate enough to ask you, simply pretend that the 1982 season never happened (which is how I deal with 1981 and the subsequent World Series), or admit that it did, and announce that it didn't really count because of KGB interference through their Bulgarian lackeys.

2. What should my early attitude toward this team be? Generally, I would counsel a wait-and-see attitude. Be enthusiastic, because after all you ARE a Dodger fan, but not TOO enthusiastic, because then you leave yourself wide open if Brock is hitting .182 at the end of May and Pedro sets a major league record for most errors by a third baseman after his first 50 games. I should mention here that Garvey and Cey, however much you liked them as Dodgers, are now the ENEMY and should be treated accordingly. I know this might be difficult right at first, but just remember that they both have something to prove to your organization, and they sure as heck will do everything they can to beat you. Just start out slow, and before long, I'm sure you'll hate them as much as Charlie Hustle or the Giants.

3. Some of you may find wait-and-see to be too wishy-washy. I understand. In this case, you'll have to take the opposite approach, which might be characterized as I'll-kill-you-if-you-say-that-about-my-team-again. Here the emphasis is on rabidness bordering on a kind of religious insanity. Heaven knows, we have numerous examples of this approach in the world today, so it shouldn't be too hard to find appropriate role models. One caution though: I tried this one back in 1976 when the Yanks won their first pennant in 12 years and then got swept by the Reds in the Series, and I'm still carrying the scars. This approach is recommended only for emotionally stable individuals, which leaves out practically everybody I know.

4. What, then, should my attitude be down the stretch? You've probably already guessed the answer: it depends. If the Dodgers are winning, and are in first or close to first, then you are duty-bound to abandon wait-and-see and commit yourself to open rooting (if you've been using I'll-kill-you all along, then there is no change in your attitude; perhaps your eyes can get more glassy and your nostrils flare wider.) I really don't think the Dodgers will be losing, but if they are, be prepared to shift into the it's-only-a-game attitude that I perfected last year. Put away all the baseball mags, stop wearing your Dodger hat, and stop reading the sports section of the TIMES. It's best not to show too much pain, because after all, it's only a game. Right?

I'll check back in with BD later in the year to fine tune these attitudes. Every baseball season has many surprises, so who knows, maybe the Dodgers will clinch the division before the All-Star break. It might be fun to dust off the holier-than-thou attitude that I used to drive people crazy with in the late 50's and early 60's. And if the Dodgers are in last place at mid-season, we can go with the attitude I developed in 1966, the what's-baseball? attitude.


The Baseball Incident
by The Editor

(Photos by Donna Copeland-Fuller)

On April 8, 1983, Opening Day at Chavez Ravine, Dennis McCarthy, a reporter for the Los Angeles Daily News, interviewed various members of the Baseball Diary staff on assignment at the game. His article appeared in the newspaper the following day and a portion of it read:

SEASON OPENS WITH LOSS: 45,000 WELCOME '83 DODGERS
The home opener is the fans' spring training - a major celebration of the kind a James G Watt might very well frown upon, wondering if indeed baseball is undermining the work ethic in this country. How did 45,000 people get the afternoon off anyway? "It's easy, I came with my boss," said Donna Copeland-Fuller, a secretary for an executive with the state Public Utilities Commission, Pomona Division. Jack Hastings, who lives in the Wilshire District, has not missed a home opener in seven years. "I work for the state, but it doesn't matter if they know I'm here because I'm getting laid off in July anyway," he said.

The following Monday, an employee with the Public Utilities Commission, after seeing the article that weekend, filed a grievance with the PUC Commissioners in San Francisco. The employee was shocked ot learn that state workers would spend part of a workday at a baseball game. Upon learning of the complaint, BD sent an investigative reporter to the North Bay to find out the repercussions, if any. Our man discovered the following confidential memorandum:

MEMO FROM: ***
DATED: APRIL 15 1983
TO: President, Commissioners, and Executive Director, PUC
SUBJECT MATTER: April 11, 1983 memo of *** "Wasted Tax Dollars Within the PUC"

On April 11, 1983, ***, an employee of the Los Angeles office, wrote to you to express his views on employees work day activity in Los Angeles. He perceives that a certain indolence amongst the rank and file as well as the supervisors. His ire was precipitated by a quote in the April 9 edition of the Daily News attributed to PUC employees and (two employees) who attended the Opening Day Dodger Game. The Executive Director requested I investigate the baseball incident, submit a plan to correct the office problems alleged in the memo, and report my findings and recommendations to you. The two employees at the game were on approved vacation periods. While it is indeed regrettable that two of our vacationing employees were singled out of a crowd of 45,000, there is little of anything we can do other than to request our people emphasize they are on vacation should a similar incident occur. To correct the alleged personnel problems noted in the memo, we have formed a Los Angeles Advisory Committee consisting of a section head from transportation, revenue requirements, utilities, communications and myself. The committee will meet the 4th Thursday of each month to review2 current procedures, disciplinary action, work productivity, etc. The committee will serve in an advisory capacity to *** recommending actions which will emphasize the productivity and morale of staff. It will deal specifically with the problems noted in the April 11 memo to the Commission.


Letters

Dear BD:
Congrats on a spectacular return to the world of publishing. Loved the issue from cover to cover. Answer to KKKwiz:
a) William Reich; b) The Adele Davis League
A. Loyal Reader
Los Angeles

Dear ALR:
It's nice to have you back, A. Of course, your answers are wrong. Ah, well, at least you didn't bring up cootie holes.


Dear Ed:
Thank God (if there is one) that Baseball Diary is back! It is, in my opinion, the finest publication of its type on the West Coast, possibly the entire country and, who knows, maybe the world and even the universe. But hey, man, Chicago for 2nd place in the NL East? I'd like to hear the rationale behind THAT pick, believe me. They've got some decent players, but really, get out your STREET AND SMITH'S and check out the pitching. Now, want to change your mind? That photo essay by Mr. Hastings was first-rate, if not inspired. I mean, who else could inject such significance into a light standard and an empty parking lot? Wow, more, please.

Here are my answers to the KKKwiz:

Mordecai Peter Centennial "Three Finger" Brown was one of the best pitchers in the NL during the early years of this century. He came up to St. Louis in 1903 as a 26-year-old rookie and was traded the next year to Chicago. Between 1906 and 1911 he won more than 20 games each year for the Cubs, with a high of 29 in 1908. In 1914, he was signed to manage the St. Louis entry in the new Federal League (more about this league later); unfortunately, he was a better pitcher than manager: his team went 50-63, and Brown was canned before the end of the season and sent to Brooklyn. In 1915, he pitched for the Chicago team of the FL (nicknamed the "Whales") and won 17 games (and batted .293). He returned to the Cubs in 1916 (he went 2-3 with a 3.94 ERA), but dropped out of the majors the next year. My reference sources vary somewhat on his lifetime stats. The Sporting News has him 239-130, including the two years in the FL. Brown was elected to the Hall in 1949, the year after he died. In case anybody is wondering: Brown lost half of the index finger on his right hand in a childhood accident. I have not been able to ascertain the exact nature of this accident (lawnmower? butcher knife? hungry tiger?), but one of my sources says that his disability allowed him to throw a number of "unorthodox pitches". I suppose that, technically, his nickname should have been "Three and a Half Finger".

The Federal League operated for two years, 1914-15, with eight franchises: Baltimore, Brooklyn Buffalo, Chicago, Indianapolis (shifted to Newark in 1915), Pittsburgh, Kansas City, and St. Louis. It was, at best, a second-rate little league, sort of the USFL of its time. I won't bore you with a lot of useless stats on this league. What I would really like to know is: who in the heck nicknamed the Chicago team the "Whales"? I mean, we can all understand Tigers and Pirates and Indians - but Whales? I can just see the team logo - Captain Ahab holding a bat riding on Moby Dick's back. Anyway, the park built for the Whales way back then is today Wrigley Field.
Richard Rosen
Oakland


Inside Chavez Ravine: A Photo Essay
by Jack Hastings

For a few hours each day, a few days each week, a small city grows within the caverns and passages of the stadium. It is temporary yet it contains all the elements of a basic urban geometry. It has its residences and its residents, its government and police, its trade and commerce and even a kind of art.

The endless concrete galleries are like a science fiction writer's fantasy of life after the bomb, a microcosmic parody of urban culture held within a vast time capsule waiting to be opened by some insectoid heir to the ravaged earth, a curious artifact of their unlamented predecessors.

Baseball Diary Vol II, #1

Los Angeles
March 30, 1983

(cover by Michael Kellner with an assist from Jagne Parkes)

"Our heroes, as a condition of a well-paid immortality, now stand in more or less permanent display, exhibits in garish buck-a-pull museums, illuminated by the coarse light of casinos instead of the gentle glow of nostalgia...Who thought...it would end like this, with one of the greatest players of our time serving out his days in an alley of slot machines." Richard Hoffer on Mickey Mantle's first day of work at the Claridge Hotel and Casino in Atlantic City

"Everything dies baby that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City"
Bruce Springsteen

"But on these evenings I...had to snatch [my mama's kiss] without even having the time or being properly free to apply to what I was doing the punctiliousness which madmen use who compel themselves to exclude all other thoughts from their minds while they are shutting a door, so that when the sickness of uncertainty sweeps over them again they can triumphantly face and overcome it with the recollection of the precise moment in which the door was shut."
Marcel Proust

"Old lady stand on the corner With a purse in her hand She does not know but in a minute of so She will be robbed by a naked man Beware, beware, beware of the naked man."
Randy Newman


Report from the Editor
Last night I was eating a delicious Eggs Moppioli I had prepared (recipe available on request) when a knock came at the door.

I screamed, "Come in!"

A naked woman came into my apartment. She asked me if I would enter the chili cook-off at the Treehouse Fun Ranch. I hesitated before replying. I have only cooked chili once in my life, from a recipe given to me by a computer programmer in Silicon Valley. I took a long sip from my vermouth and tonic water (with a generous dash of lemon).

"Sure," I said. "But what's in it for me?"

"$500 if you win", she replied.

I smiled.

"Can you write a song for your chili?"

I didn't bat an eye. "Consider it done."

"Good," she said. "We've got about eight topless cheerleaders that want to do a routine."

"I'll be ready," I told her.

She left shortly thereafter. I dove into my green beans topped with cornbeef and chicken sauce (a holdover from St Patrick's Day). Another knock at the door.

"COME IN!"

A naked man came into my apartment.

"Are we running in the Jimmy Stewart National Relay Marathon?"

I told him to sit down, but he was dripping wet and declined, not wanting to ruin the only piece of furniture in the place, an antique rocking chair. I had to explain to him that we were not entering the race this year due to dropouts on our team, Legs Amok. He was disappointed, but took it okay. Then he told me about his partner's mugging in broad daylight at a local Lucky's grocery store. I couldn't finish my meal. We chatted awhile. He said she was okay. And he left.

One other naked person came over that night and brought the typewriter I'm currently working on. Thanks, Greg.


Report from Oakland
by The Fearless Forecaster

HEY KIDS! What time is it? Yup, baseball's back! It's time to break out those sweat stained blue hats with the white interlocking el-ay and the crumpled visors, time to put four new double-A Eveready Energizers int he transistor, time to buy the 1983 edition of Street and Smith's, time to get one of those little cardboard season schedules that folds up and fist neatly in your pocket for instant reference, and time to start WORRYING. To hell with high unemployment, those dirty Russkies in Afghanistan, the rapists running the EPA, even herpes: I'm worried about the catching situation. Why DID Sundberg turn down that trade? What about Brock? Marshall? How's Burt Hooten's knee? Has Steve Sax heard about the dreaded Sophomore Jinx and what it does to rookie phenoms? Will Pedro Guerrero have to change his name to Gu-error-5 down there at third? Is Landreaux over his "chemical dependency"? What about Bill Russell? Is there life at shortstop after 34? Will we miss Forster? Ron Cey? And what's-his-name, um, Gravey? Good God! Do I need this? I've got bills, my love life is in shambles, my car needs a brake job, yes, yes, yes, it's BASEBALL!

Actually, the Dodgers are the team to beat in the NL West in 1983. They have, as the cliche goes, the right mixture of youth and experience, some hitting, some speed, some pitching, and a manager who's friends with Don Rickles. What more do you need? The rest of the division? Heck, you Dodger nuts down there don't really care, do you? I mean, everybody knows the Braves will fall apart by mid-season, that Captain America won't turn the Padres around, that the Gi, er, well, we'll SKIP OVER this particular team and that horrible city of San Fran, er, that city across the Bay from where I live, and that the Astros and Reds are doomed because God hates them. My forecast? The Dodgers first and everybody else tied for last.

The NL East is of interest only because the Dodgers are required by law to play somebody from this division before they can go to the World Series. So how about the Cards again? Nah, it's too hard to win back-to-back titles as the Dodgers found out in 1982. I'm going with the Expos, who I also picked to win last year but didn't because they're stupid. If the Expos are stupid again this year, the Cards might repeat, but keep your eyes on the Pirates, especially if the Cobra comes back (that's Mr. Parker, in case you don't know). My advice to Dodger nuts is to pray for an outbreak of bubonic plague in this division that sends all the good teams to the hospital and lets the Mets finish on top.

Now for the American League. Say - uh - you all do remember the AL, don't you? It's kind of this other league, see, that plays a modified version of baseball that most purists consider an abomination along with plastic grass and big-mouthed owners who are always meddling with their teams and firing managers every other day and - Anyway, the AL West is very close. I'll say Chicago, but only because my favorite aunt lives there and I almost melted the last time I was in Kansas City. Besides, I hate George Brett and those ridiculous fountains in Royal's Stadium California has a lot of old guys and they lost Don Baylor, who led the league in game-winning hits in 1982. Oakland, the team that plays just down the freeway from me, has got more holes than a slab of Swiss cheese, and should save me lots of money this year, since I refuse to pay to see lousy teams play. I understand there are three more teams in this division, at least that's the rumor, and I'm doing research now to find out who they are.

OK, the AL East. I bet you're all thinking to yourselves: "Uh oh, here we go." Right? Am I right? Huh? I always save the AL East for last because I have a certain, shall we say, bias toward one of the teams in this division, and I like to end these worthless forecasts with a little screed on how this certain team will reduce the rest of the division to wimpering idiots, begging for the blow that ends the misery. Well, not this year, folks, uh uh. This year, I'm picking the Brew-sers. I know, I know - you're thinking: "Sure, Ef-Ef, the Brewers. You can't fool US. WE know who you REALLY THINK WILL WIN." Yeah, well, OK, maybe deep down inside me on those genes indelibly imprinted with the en-why, I do sort of, kind of, a teensy bit, think that there's about a million-to-one shot that the Yuckees can pull it off. Especially if some unnamed person whose initials are G.S. can keep his paws off the team for two seconds and start treating human beings with some respect and, and, and the Brewers really look strong, except maybe for some problems in the bullpen if Fingers can't come back, and a little age on some of their starting pitchers, and a rather thin bench, and, and, well, the rest of this division is filled with ugly teams from places I wouldn't ever live in even if you paid me. So I like the Brewers this year - really I do.

Last year I also forecast the MVP's and Cy Young winners from both leagues, which naturally is even dumber and a bigger waste of time than picking the pennant winners, but I'm going to do it again anyway. I'm going to look into my crystal baseball and say that Andre Dawson, the same guy I picked last year, will be NL MVP, and that Fernando Valenzuela, even though he isn't worth a million, will pitch like it anyway, and win the Cy Young.

Fearless Forecaster's Picks for 1983:

NL West
1. Los Angeles
2. A certain city in Northern California across the Bay from Oakland
3. Atlanta
4. San Diego
5. Houston
6. Cincinnati

NL East
1. Montreal
2. St Louis
3. Pittsburg
4. Philly
5. Chicago
6. New York

AL West
1. Chicago
2. Kansas City
3. California
4. Oakland
5. Texas
6. Seattle
7. Minnie Ha-Ha

AL East
1. Milwaukee
2. New York
3. Boston
4. Baltimore
5. Detroit
6. Cleveland
7. Toronto


Ken Koss Kwiz, Spring, 1983:
Off to a fast start:
1. What baseball player was nicknamed "Three Finger"?
2. What was the name of the short-lived baseball league formed in 1914?


Chavez Ravine: On the Outside Looking In
Photo essay by J. Hastings

On a Sunday in late March with two weeks still remaining before the start of regular season play, a Baseball Diary press pass and fifty cents will get you a short ride on the San Fernando Flyer but it won't get you into Dodger Stadium. So one who wishes to document the waiting emptiness, the expectant silence, of this vast "maison de sportif", must do so holographically. One must attempt to obtain a sense of the whole from patches of seemingly unrelated detail - seeing the rigid formality of this mock combat called baseball and the solidity of the tradition upon which it rests in the base of a massive light standard (fig. ii); seeing the insulation and near-mystical separation of the modern-day Odysseus from his teeming fans in a striped barrier and barbed wire gate (fig. i); seeing the complete tapestry of fifty thousand lives intertwined for a single ritual purpose in a single ritual place in the patterns of a deserted parking log (fig. iii).

Perhaps most important of all, one must invent a great deal of pseudo-intellectual swill to explain why one has a picture of a dumb lamp post, a dumb gate and a dumb parking lot instead of Dodger Stadium like one was supposed to have in the first place.