For President Garvey, Kid-Glove Treatment?

I don’t have anyone named Getty or Vanderbilt or Rockefeller or Hunt on my staff. My writers have to go to the bank to finance their sneakers.

No big bucks here.

However, what if I did have a Biggie Bucks on my staff? What if he bought the San Diego County Edition of The Times? And what if he wanted to be owner/president/sportswriter?

What would life be like as a sports editor bossing the boss?

Would Biggie set up digs on another floor of our office building and beckon me to bring him his assignments?

Me: “Biggie, I’d like you to cover the Chargers’ game at Cleveland Dec. 20.”

Biggie: “Sorry, boss. That’s the last weekend before Christmas. The missus and I have some shopping to do in La Jolla, Beverly Hills, San Francisco and Paris. I’m going to be pretty busy.”

Me: “Understandable, Biggie, understandable. OK, I would like you to go back to Iowa City and take a look at the Hawkeyes before the Holiday Bowl.”

Biggie: “Iowa City? I have a hunch that’s in Iowa, huh? I don’t think so. I don’t think the skiing is too good in that neck of the woods.”

Me: “Hmmm. Maybe you have some ideas, Biggie.”

Biggie: “Not right offhand. I’m only a writer. It’s up to you to tell me what to do.”

Me: “OK. I have the perfect story for you. Steve Garvey is interested in putting together a group of investors to buy the Padres. He would be president and first baseman. Why don’t you look into this for me?”

Biggie: “President and first baseman? You’re kidding. That’s preposterous. (Guffawing) It sounds interesting. Why don’t you look into it and let me know what you find out?”

Me: “Sure, Biggie. I’ll call Larry Bowa and see how he thinks it might feel to have his boss working for him.”

Larry Bowa picked up the telephone on the first ring at his Clearwater, Fla., home. He sounded eager, maybe even hopeful. Maybe he was expecting Jack McKeon to call and tell him he had traded a player to be named for Dwight Gooden.

“It’s just me,” I said.

“Oh,” Bowa said.

“Listen,” I said. “Have you heard that Steve Garvey is trying to organize a group of investors to buy the Padres?”

“All I know,” Bowa said, “is what I’ve been reading in the papers. I really haven’t thought about it.”

“Really, Larry,” I said, “Steve Garvey is serious about this. He would be first baseman and club president.”

“I have to put the best team possible on the field,” Bowa said. “I can’t make out the lineup differently just because the first baseman may be the club president.”

He hesitated a second, then laughed. Here he was, just a few weeks a major league manager for the first time, and he was talking about dealing with a club president playing first base. It did sound like something from a Bill Murray movie.

“Really, Dave,” Bowa said, “if Steve Garvey plays like Steve Garvey is capable of playing, he will be at first base.”

“But,” I said, “ you would be the guy who would have to say, ‘Prez, I think you need a rest. You’re in a little mix-up right now. We’ll give you a break.’ Larry, Steve Garvey has never liked taking days off.”

“Well,” Bowa said, “I suppose if I left Steve out of the lineup he could say, ‘You’re fired.’ ”

I said: “You’d certainly get your start as a major league manager in a unique way.”

“It would be a first, wouldn’t it?” Bowa mused.

We exchanged pleasantries on more serious subjects, such as golf, and hung up.

Hmmm, I thought, what might it be like with Steve Garvey as the club president?

I could imagine the Padres wearing vests to match their pin-striped uniforms, wing-tip cleats and maybe even bow ties. Perhaps the players would have desks rather than lockers. It might be profitable to get the hair-spray concession.

Of course, the payroll could be streamlined. If the president is playing first base, why couldn’t the right fielder be the general manager, the second baseman direct promotions and the catcher run the gift shop? Wouldn’t Rich Gossage be a marvelous relief pitcher/director of media relations?

After all, this is real life. Steve Garvey really could be a president/first baseman. The scenario I presented to Bowa, being his boss’ boss, could happen.

I sighed, relieved that Biggie Bucks is a fictional fixture in my mind rather than a member of my staff.

Me: “What do you want to cover, Biggie?”

Biggie: “I plan on covering the Kentucky Derby, the Hawaiian Open, Wimbledon, the Monaco Grand Prix, the French Open, the Bob Hope Desert Classic, the Tahitian 10K and the Cannes Film Festival. It should be a busy year.”

Me: “Whatever you say, boss.”

Biggie: “You know me, boss. Work comes first.”