It May as Well Have Been Columbo Day at the Big A

Enjoy a good mystery? You would have loved Saturday’s Angel-Red Sox game at Anaheim Stadium, a broad-daylight collision between the two worst division-leading teams in baseball.

Mystery No. 1: Why did 33,977 fans show up for the game? Was the beach closed? Did somebody falsely advertise a swamp-bog tractor-pull extravaganza?

Or did the 33,977 actually turn out to watch the slumping Red Sox, whose only real pitcher pitched the night before, against the slumping Angels, whose starting pitcher hadn’t won in nearly a month?

Obviously the fans weren’t anticipating a classic game, and they didn’t get one, but they did get some interesting and mysterious action.

The next big mystery of the day was what happened in the top of the fourth, with the Red Sox trying to pad their 1-0 lead.

With one out and runners at first and third, why did Angel center fielder Gary Pettis drop an easy pop fly to shallow center?

Did you lose it in the sun, Gary?

“I . . . dropped . . . the . . . baseball,” Pettis said, more than a little exasperated at being quizzed on the embarrassing muff.

Ah, but the fumble turned out to be a stroke of genius. Pettis picked up the ball and fired to catcher Bob Boone.

More mysteries.

Why did Bill Buckner, a smart player and a non-speedster, try to score from third on a ball hit barely out of the infield, thus challenging one of the league’s better arms?

Pettis’ throw beat Buckner by three days. Boone tried to tag the sliding Buckner and missed, twice. No matter. Home plate umpire Drew Coble called Buckner out anyway. The old phantom tag.

While Buckner was dramatically pleading to Coble for justice, Boone alertly whirled and threw to second to force out Jim Rice, who apparently was taking the scenic route from first base to second.

Yo, Jimbo! Baseball, anyone?

Double play. Game, set and match.

All that remained was for the Angels, in their half of the inning, to produce a mystery guest, Dr. Longball. Doug DeCinces and Bobby Grich each cranked a home run.

DeCinces’ two-run, game-deciding blast raised another mystery: Where has DeCinces been lately?

This is a touchy question. Friday night against Boston fireballer Roger Clemens, DeCinces sat on the bench, even though he is a noted fastball hitter and has been on a decent little hitting roll.

DeCinces, a sensitive guy, bristled just a little when someone mentioned that before Saturday he had gone 19 games without hitting a home run.

“I’ve been platooned a little lately, too,” DeCinces pointed out.

Not exactly platooned, since he doesn’t sit against all right-handers, but . . .

“What would you call it?” DeCinces said, searching for the right word. “Limbo?”

Why didn’t he play Friday night?

“I can’t answer that,” DeCinces said. “You’ll have to ask the other guy (Manager Gene Mauch). I was 0 for 4 in Boston, but Rice made a diving catch in left, and (Dwight) Evans made a nice catch on a liner in the gap.”

Mauch and DeCinces have not discussed the situation. DeCinces shows up every day and checks the lineup card to see if he will be playing or seething.

“I’m surprised at times,” DeCinces said. “I come to play every day. I expect to play every day--that’s probably why I get disappointed when I’m not.”

DeCinces is a month short of his 36th birthday. He has a chronic bad back, no contract for next season, and he knows the Angels are thinking youth. Still, he knows he can hit, knows the Angels need his power, knows the Angels don’t have a true phenom waiting in the wings, and he hates to sit.

“I’ve been a starter all my life,” he said. “It’s a mental adjustment I have to make, I guess, but I prefer to play every day. Confidence is the toughest thing for a player to maintain. When you’re not playing, all of a sudden you realize someone else (the manager) doesn’t have it (confidence) in you and you have to play a different mental game.”

In this case, DeCinces played a physical game called Take Out Your Frustration on the Other Team’s Pitcher.

What the heck, a lot of guys were cranky Saturday. The Red Sox, all of them, are growing weary of answering variations of the question, “How will you guys blow it this season?”

And the mysterious semi-disappearance of Boston pitcher Oil Can Boyd isn’t a pleasant topic of conversation, either. Boston Manager John McNamara blew up at one San Diego writer who tactfully broached the subject around the batting cage Saturday morning.

“What bothers me is having to talk about this (bleep) every (bleeping) day,” McNamara growled, and stomped away, probably looking for someone willing to discuss something more pleasant, like politics or music.

Maybe it’s the heat of the twin pennant races, or the day game after a night game, but that old spirit of summer baseball fun seemed to be mysteriously lacking among the fellows Saturday.

Two notable exceptions were the Angels’ sunshine boys, Grich and Wally Joyner. Bobby and Wally chased a pop fly into short right field in the eighth inning.

On the run, Bobby looked at Wally. Wally looked at Bobby. Bobby and Wally both lunged for the ball. They collided hard and tumbled head over heels on the grass.

Wally and Bobby sat up, looked at each other, Wally took the ball out of his glove and flipped it to Bobby, and they both laughed.