On Dramatic Night, Gibson Plays the Lead

It crawled up out of the primordial ooze of Flushing Bay about sunset Sunday and crept into Shea Stadium.

It held thousands of innocent fans hostage. Millions even, counting the TV audience.

It was The Game That Wouldn’t Die.

It was Mets vs. Dodgers vs. Logic and Reason.

Kirk Gibson finally put the beast out of its misery early Monday morning. Gibson, a desperate man, beat the game to death with his bat.

He parked a Roger McDowell fastball over the right-field fence with two outs in the 12th inning, his first hit of the evening and morning, and the Dodgers delayed the Mets’ miracle with a 5-4 victory.

The game reared its ugly head one last time in the bottom of the 12th, as the Mets loaded the bases against a Dodger pitching staff stretched as thin as angel-hair pasta.

But thanks to Orel Hershiser coming out of the pen to get the final out, Gibson, the Dodgers’ angel of the morning, was not denied his hero’s role.

When you think about it, who else but Gibson could have saved the Dodgers from the brink of extermination in the most dramatic moment of the season?

Gibson is the closest thing the Dodgers have ever had to a Shakespearean character. From the time he stormed off the field in spring training in a rage over a prank, Gibson has dominated the stage.

Alternately haggard and heroic, Gibson has turned up the Dodger burner about two notches, just beyond simmer.

How much of this is pure theater and how much is actual direct contribution to the resurgence of the Dodgers is a subject for debate.

His teammates seem to be coming to resent the picture painted by the media, of Gibson as the man who changed the team’s attitude by striking fear in the hearts of the laid-back Dodgers.

Certainly he has made the ballclub more entertaining, and the general perception across the nation, right or wrong, is that Gibson has fired up the Dodgers, through fear or simply introducing a new brand of intensity to the ballclub.

But early Monday morning he didn’t seem like the most likely hero in the ballpark. He went to the plate hitting 1 for 16 in this series.

He went into the series with a partially pulled hamstring, and he seemed intent on disproving his pre-series pronouncement.

“My 60 percent may be adequate,” Gibson had said. “It may be better than someone else’s 100 percent.”

Gibson’s math proved accurate. And his sense of drama was impeccable.

It was the perfect night/morning for drama, anyway. The Game That Wouldn’t Die actually came to life well before game time, when Dodger Manager Tom Lasorda held a news conference to give his reaction to the 3-day suspension handed to ace bullpen stopper Jay Howell, a convicted pine-tar felon.

Howell got the 3-game sitdown from league president A. Bart Giamatti, who presumably gave himself a 3-day suspension for lapse of judgment in allowing Game 3 of the series to be played in a swamp, under a storm.

Anyway, Lasorda started out sad-eyed and wavery, seemingly on the verge of tears as he defended his pitcher’s honor.

With all the pathos and bitterness of Richard Nixon’s “Checkers” speech, Lasorda railed at the injustice of being stripped of his bullpen for 3 games because of a minor violation.

He even dropped the bombshell that he had had trouble eating since getting the news about Howell.

By the end of the 15-minute news conference Lasorda was working the audience like a Las Vegas lounge comedian, Shecky Lasorda tossing out good-natured barbs at the boys in the press.

Maybe Lasorda started to realize that it’s crazy to worry about your bullpen when you have a much more pressing problem--your offense.

The Dodgers have reverted in this series to the Dodger offense of the mid-’60s, a hunt n’ peck attack that, when it works, bleeds the opposition to death like a swarm of mosquitoes.

Going into the ninth inning Sunday night, the Dodgers’ offensive output through 3-plus games was 2 doubles and 21 singles, and the team slugging percentage--excuse the expression--was fewer than .200.

Then Mike Scioscia shocked and amazed the Shea Stadium fans--and let’s face it, even his teammates--with a ninth-inning 2-run homer that tied the game at 4-4.

That, of course, set the stage for Gibson, whose frustration by now had reached such levels that every time he struck out he was being followed by ABC cameras and men with white coats and nets, waiting for his Vesuvius temper to blow.

But after striking out twice and grounding out thrice, weakly, and probably beginning to wonder if his 8% is better than another guy’s 100%, Gibson turned the series around.

The blow came in the nick of time. The crowd for Monday afternoon’s game was beginning to arrive at Shea, and because none of the Sunday game crowd was budging, an ugly New York style confrontation seemed inevitable.

As it was, Gibson ended the game in time for the Dodgers to shower and change shirts and take pregame batting practice.

“Dodger magic happened,” Gibson explained. “The Good Lord was with us.”

Maybe the Good Lord felt he had to balance out the squads, what with Bart Giamatti jumping onto the Mets side.

Or maybe He was just tired of watching.