HOW TO SPEAK FLUENT BASEBALL

By Steve Wulf

"WELCOME TO THE SHOW." THAT DULL AND uninspiring line is the new promotional slogan for Major League Baseball. A far more compelling and honest campaign would have been, "What Were We Thinking?" Or maybe, "Baseball Apathy--Don't Catch It." Or better yet, "We're Really, Really Sorry." Instead we get "Welcome to the Show."

What show? The one with no labor agreement (still), no commissioner (Bud Selig doesn't count), no national television contract, no marketing director, 30 agendas for 30 franchises, 80 different player agents, a statistically meaningless 144-game schedule and millions of seats now empty because the occupants have left for good?

Is it that show, or the one in which Cal Ripken trots out to shortstop for the Orioles, game after game after game? At the 66th All-Star Game last week, Ripken, who was just 54 games shy of Lou Gehrig's record for consecutive games played (2,130), spent close to an hour signing autographs for the fans, working his way from dugout to dugout in the 100! heat while most of his peers were relaxing in the air-conditioned comfort of their clubhouses.

WELCOME TO THE SHOW was plastered all over the Ballpark in Arlington, Texas, which is where the virtues and vices, the chaos and order, the light and dark side of baseball came together for the All-Star Game. The "Tornado," Hideo Nomo, touched down, of course, and everyone was eager to see the Dodgers' Japanese rookie with the outrageous windup and the diabolical fork ball. But while Nomo was tailed by 150 Japanese journalists and almost as many American ones, a bookish-looking Atlanta Brave went largely unnoticed, even though Greg Maddux is the best pitcher of this generation. That's partly the failing of the baseball media, but then Major League Baseball has never done much to promote its players for fear it might drive up salaries. So instead of Greg Maddux ads, we get WELCOME TO THE SHOW.

Maddux was at the All-Star Game despite the fact that he wouldn't be able to pitch because of a groin pull, and so were Ken Griffey Jr., Matt Williams and Ozzie Smith, All-Stars whose disabling injuries have further diminished the game this year. "For the fans to punch my name out, I had to be here," said Griffey. Not every player is as sentimental about the game. Darren Daulton and Lenny Dykstra of the Phillies blew off the Monday workout without telling anyone.

But their transgression was nothing compared to that of a Texas pitcher named Ed Vosberg. He may never be an All-Star, but Vosberg, who makes $125,000 a year with the Rangers, did become the Hugh Grant of baseball when he was cited for scalping his All-Star Game tickets outside the ballpark. For Ed it was almost "Welcome to the Hoosegow."

Vosberg is lucky he doesn't have Buck Showalter for a manager. The manager of the New York Yankees and this year's AL team feels so strongly about the players' obligations to the national pastime that he gave the All-Stars a little pregame speech he calls, "Ask Not What Baseball Can Do for You, Ask What You Can Do for Baseball." Apparently, Frank Thomas of the White Sox wasn't listening. The slugging first baseman left the All-Star Game after the fourth inning to catch a plane back to Chicago for a game the next night. Granted, he hit a two-run homer in the fourth, but the AL could still have used his bat, and besides, many players who had games the next day stayed.

Major League Baseball is hoping that somehow the All-Star Game will wipe the post-strike slate clean, and that fans will begin to come back after the break. While the NL's 3-2 victory was entertaining, and 50,000 people in Texas seemed to have a good time despite the heat, the few valiant officials left to mind the show are deluded. The TV ratings for the All-Star Game were the lowest since it was moved to prime time, and two days later, attendance figures indicated the depression was still deep: 9,065 fans in Pittsburgh, 13,046 in San Francisco, 32,903 in New York--for the Mets and the Yankees.

Nomomania, the revival in Cleveland and the success of the Rockies are signs that try as they have, the owners and the players haven't yet killed the sport. But stay tuned. There's an owner out there who believes the answer to the problem of long games is to shorten them to seven innings.

The Tornado more than lived up to his billing, striking out three of the six batters he faced, two with the fork ball. But that wasn't Nomo's best pitch. As 160 Little Leaguers filed off the field during pregame festivities, there he was, high-fiving each and every one of them. With that sweet and impromptu gesture, Nomo did more to bridge the gulf between the game and its fans than an entire ad campaign. This 26-year-old from Japan, who's here because he wanted to play against the best, knows more about baseball than Milwaukee owner Selig, players' union head Donald Fehr or Frank Thomas ever will.

"Welcome to the Show"? Come up with a collective bargaining agreement, a full season and a few more players with the spirit of Ripken and Nomo. Until then, the show won't be entirely welcome.