Who’s on Third? Who Cares! : Sushi Is the Only Thing Hard to Swallow on Opening Night

Howard Esterson, a local insurance agent, says the Padres’ only weakness in 1989 is third base. Otherwise, they’re a lock for the championship.

“That’s all we’re looking for,” said Esterson, who lives in San Carlos. “Otherwise, we’ve got it.”

So, who’s on third?

That was THE question being debated Monday evening, as the Padres ushered in the new season at San Diego Jack Murphy Stadium. Over hot dogs and barbecued chicken--”Please, no sushi!” cried one fan--the paying customers threw their pregame bashes and demanded to know . . .

Who’s on third?

Take Your Pick

Well, how about Wade Boggs, the superstar third baseman for the Boston Red Sox, who are busy trying to trade him?

“Noooooooo!” a chorus of fans, including Esterson, screamed out in unison, at the mere mention of the gifted hitter’s name. Boggs has been sullied in an ugly sex scandal, and these fans clearly didn’t want him.

“We need Wade Boggs like we need a hole in the head,” Esterson said.

Boggs’ public involvement in an extramarital affair was being talked about by many in the tailgating crowd, as were Steve Garvey’s possible extramarital fatherhood problems and Pete Rose’s gambling problems. No matter how unsavory the controversies, though, no one seemed to think that the grand old game had been the least bit tarnished.

At the same time, no one wanted the likes of Boggs or Rose near the Padres, even if a hot-hitting Boggs could fill that hole at third and virtually ensure a championship.

Aside from all the chatter about infidelity and gambling--hardly the usual fare at tailgate parties--the mood in the parking lot was decidedly upbeat and just a little bit smug about the home team’s chances.

Just Like Barbecue

“We’ve got a good shot, a better shot than most,” said Edward Catano, who was barbecuing 75 pounds of sirloin steak and 130 half-breasts of chicken for a private party. “We look terrific on paper. We’ve just got to remember the fundamentals. Baseball is like barbecue--just remember the fundamentals, and you’ll bring home a winner.”

Catano said his favorite day of the year is opening day of the baseball season, which brings to mind rebirth--a feeling that the best of life is just ahead.

“It’s the start of summer,” he said. “Opening day is symbolic more than anything else. Everybody’s in first place on opening day. It’s the start of baseball--and barbecue--season.”

By 4 p.m. Monday, the parking lot was its own kind of weird mardi gras. Men wore cowboy hats, a group of women wore fringe dresses (a la the Roaring ‘20s), and a herd of children was being entertained by a robot.

That’s right, a robot--wearing a Padres’ jersey, of course.

Carol and Harry Muzynski, who live in Del Cerro, spent $25,000 for their 6-foot-high robot, whose name is Cornelius Rolboltz Robot. He’s nicknamed Corny.

Corny doesn’t do floors and windows, unfortunately, but he does entertain kids. About a half dozen were camped around him, hanging on his every beep.

“He doesn’t know if the Padres will win or not,” Carol said. “He just came from the planet Krupnik. He didn’t know anything about baseball, so he came down here to find out what it was all about.”

Strutting Their Stuff

In another corner of the parking lot, Stella Reed and the San Diego Parasol Strutters were waving parasols and strutting. She described her group as women in their 50s, 60s and 70s who dance, armed with parasols, to the sounds of Dixieland jazz. They performed during the game with the High Society Band, which specializes in the music they love.

“Dixieland music is full of happiness, jubilation and love,” Reed said. “And that’s what opening day is all about.”

The mood was happy, but a few folks were unhappy about two recent developments at the stadium--the sale of sushi and the periodic scoreboard message that, if you smoke, please be courteous to your neighbors.

“This sushi stuff is ridiculous,” said San Diego Police Officer Rick Schnell. “They ought to be selling hot dogs and hamburgers. They’ve never done those that good to begin with. Sushi makes us the wimp capital of baseball--at least until October, when we’ll beat everybody. But in October, when the World Series comes here, selling sushi will be embarrassing. We’ll have to be extra good just to cover up the scorn.”

George Lefferts, the uncle of San Francisco Giants relief pitcher and former Padre Craig Lefferts, was lighting up a big fat stogie at a tailgate party. He’s aware of the new smoking policy and says he will try not to smoke in the stands, but he will never put out his cigar--they cost $3.50 apiece.

“I’m sure we’ll be the first stadium to ban smoking,” Lefferts said. “We’re kooks in San Diego. We like to do things different.”

But unconventionality stops at third. Nobody in the parking lot wanted the inimitable Mr. Boggs at third, even if he could hit .380 for the Pads.

“We just don’t want that Boggs fella,” said Phyllis Komaroff, who helps sponsor 40 Little League teams as a member of the San Diego Madres’ women’s organization. “We don’t need that kind of thing in San Diego.”