As Long as Gibson Can Run, Dodger Spirit Will Burn Bright

Showtime lives in Los Angeles, and as long as it stays alive, the Dodgers will not be out of the pennant race.

Kirk (Showtime) Gibson, dropped from his leadoff spot in the batting order Sunday when second baseman Willie Randolph took the day off to nurse an injury, continued to intimidate, unnerve, outrun and out-think the opposition.

On Old-Timers Day at Dodger Stadium, Gibson inspired memories of one Dodger old-timer who was in attendance in spirit only.

“Gibson is a manufacturer of runs,” Manager Tom Lasorda said after the Dodgers’ 5-3 win over the Braves. “He is as good at manufacturing runs as anyone I’ve seen since Jackie.”

That’s Jackie Robinson, for you youngsters. The late Mr. Robinson is best known for integrating baseball, of course. But the men he played with and against speak reverently of his fire on the bases.

Nobody in the stadium ever rested when Jackie Robinson got on base. He was daring, arrogant, alert and defiant. He wanted to bother the opposition, rattle them, anger them.

Gibson comes at you with the same basic pain-in-the-fanny style. Sunday he walked twice, bunted for a hit, stole a base, stretched a straight single into a double and caused a Dodger run to score when it shouldn’t have.

With Jose Gonzalez on first base in the fifth, Gibson drew a walk, but ball four was inside and got past catcher Jody Davis, a wild pitch. Gibson sprinted to first, Gonzalez rounded second and broke hard for third, Gibson rounded first and broke hard for second, drawing a long throw from the backstop that allowed Gonzalez to score.

That’s what baseball people mean by manufacturing a run. It’s a dull term for an exciting play. They make it sound like the run was created in a factory in the City of Commerce and shipped via UPS to Dodger Stadium, signed for by clubhouse man Nobe Kawano.

In reality, “manufacturing” is the kind of action that makes a day at the ballpark worthwhile. As Lasorda said, “I would pay to see Kirk Gibson play baseball.”

Gibson has simply been wearing out the opposition. In six games batting leadoff, he manufactured seven hits, seven walks and scored six runs.

Sunday, still in a leadoff frame of mind despite batting third, he was four for four in getting on base, and boy, were the Braves tired of seeing Gibson’s scraggly face out there on the bases.

When Gibson gets on base, even by a walk, all bets are off, all rules of civility are suspended. It’s Showtime.

It’s roller-derby baseball, although Gibson wishes to stress that what he does should not be construed as mindless abandon, but calculated risk-taking.

“The key to baserunning,” he said, “is to give yourself the opportunity. If I don’t run hard to first (on the wild-pitch ball four), I can’t try for second.

“You don’t run yourself into outs, but you gotta force the issue sometimes. I’m running to second (on the wild pitch) because I know Jose Gonzalez is running to third, that S.O.B.”

S.O.B., of course, is a compliment in this context.

Although he has been here a season and a half, Gibson has never embraced the SoCal jogging mentality. He has two speeds: Painful Limp, and Damn the Torpedoes.

Lasorda’s insertion of Gibson into the leadoff spot seven games ago may have been a move borne of desperation, and it certainly violated the baseball rule of never putting your most productive power hitter at the top of the order. But it was a masterful move.

As Mike Tyson will tell you, you should come with your most powerful punch right from the bell. If I was Dodger manager, I would want to expose the opposition to Gibson as quickly as possible. I would not only bat him leadoff, I would have him take the lineup card up to home plate, preferably going into the dish spikes-high.

Will Lasorda put Gibson back at leadoff in the future?

“It’s a possibility, yeah,” said Tofu Tommy.

If you’ve paid any attention to Gibson, you probably know what he had to say Sunday about his preference of spots in the batting order.

“I could care less,” he said. “With my speed, my job is to get on base, move the defensive alignments. It changes the game when I get on base.”

When Gibson gets on base, you can almost hear the opposition moan and grumble, you can almost see them twitch and lean forward just a bit.

Baseball is a peaceful, predictable game until Gibson enters the fray. If you’re on the other team, he ticks you off, wears you out. Who the hell does he think he is, sliding into second on an obvious single? Damn hotdog.

If the opposition can’t rest, neither can Gibson’s teammates. How would you like to be the kid, Gonzalez, had Jose sauntered into second base on that wild pitch that Gibson turned into a two-baser?

It would have been the last sauntering the young man would have done on this team. Gibson would have pulled Jose aside and explained the facts of life, i.e.: Know the situation. Give yourself the opportunity. Run, don’t saunter.

With Mike Marshall out of the lineup with a bad back and Eddie Murray slumping, the only way the Dodgers can stay in the race is through the marvel of manufacturing.

Sunday they gave a clinic on that facet of baseball, and wherever he was, Jackie, the Master Manufacturer, must have been smiling.