THE WORLD SERIES : A’s and Giants Have Character and Characters

Now that the amateur sociologists have had their say on the Bay Area World Series, reminding us of the vast cultural disparity between sophisticated San Francisco and gritty little Oakland, forget it.

From here on out, what matters with the Giants and Athletics is what goes down on the baseball field.

And on the baseball field, the Giants and Athletics share a good deal more than a bridge and an area code.

Power hitters? In Kevin Mitchell and Jose Canseco, the Giants and A’s own the two most dangerous long-distance threats in the sport.

First basemen? If San Francisco’s Will Clark is the best in his field, Oakland’s Mark McGwire at least makes the medal round.

Pitchers? The Giants’ Rick Reuschel and the A’s Dave Stewart were the National and American League All-Star starters for last July’s game in Anaheim.

Batting champions? Both the Giants and the A’s came hair-splitting close, with Clark losing out to San Diego’s Tony Gwynn, and Carney Lansford to Minnesota’s Kirby Puckett on the last day of the regular season.

Even the managers, so different in style and background, are comparably progressive. Oakland’s Tony La Russa, who hangs out with the rock band Styx, and San Francisco’s Roger Craig, who hangs out in the sticks, have each been manager of the year at least once since 1987 and have each been a mover and a shaper in baseball this decade. La Russa introduced the computer disk to the dugout; Craig introduced the split-fingered fastball to a whole new generation of humm-babies.

The similarities don’t end there, either. These teams share strengths and weaknesses, quirks and flakes, hotdogs and meatballs, tempers and tantrums. Maybe it’s the water.

Some more cases in point:

Bad public relations:

Rick Reuschel and Bob Welch

The Giants’ Reuschel, criticized by the public during most of his 17-year career for both weight and fastball problems, is extracting revenge. He actively dislikes reporters. Real men, he believes, don’t read newspapers.

“If people are paying attention to the game, what do they need to read about it for?” he asked last week. “That’s why I give the media the minimum cooperation I can get away with.”

For those who like their game stories spiced with pithy quotes, it’s a good thing Reuschel and Oakland’s Bob Welch won’t both be pitching Saturday. To borrow a line from Gene Mauch, Welch would rather swallow a green fly than conduct a news conference.

When he can, he skips them. When he can’t, when he’s absolutely trapped by a league official, he’ll stand there, squirming and fidgeting, trying to get through it as quickly and painlessly as possible. The result is mostly one-word answers, often blurted out in nervous staccato.

Which is not to say these pitchers are bad guys. They just don’t want to be bothered.

Bad head:

Matt Williams and Dennis Eckersley

Maybe it’s because Williams has spent the last three years shuttling between triple-A Phoenix and the Giants. Maybe it’s because everywhere he has turned, somebody is always asking him how he could have 34 homers in 693 big league at-bats and still not have played a full big league summer.

Whatever the reason, eyes will widen upon Williams’ first emergence from the Giants dugout for a curtain call. Williams, 23, is nearly bald.

There’s nothing wrong with Eckersley’s hair. There’s lots of it, actually, flowing down from under his cap and flopping against his shoulders when he jogs in from the bullpen. The problem lies with what’s under that hair.

Who else has flipped off an entire country on national TV lately? Who else can get Toronto’s most mild-mannered manager, Cito Gaston, whipped into a froth dither by suggesting that Gentleman Cito do something to himself that’s physically impossible. Later, when asked if he was sorry about his post-playoff remarks, Eckersley snapped, “ . . . him, we won.”

Bad wheels:

Will Clark and Dave Parker

He can hit, he can field, he can think, and he can talk all night about all those things. The only thing Will (the Spill) Clark cannot do, unfortunately for the Giants, is run.

He can barely walk, in fact, thanks to badly bruised right knee injured in a home-plate collision with Dodger catcher Mike Scioscia in San Francisco two weeks before the end of the season.

Several times during the playoffs, he was nearly thrown out attempting to hobble into an extra base. Then in Sunday’s finale, he collapsed on third base after hitting a triple. There’s just one thing the A’s should know about his problem, something that Clark was happy to point out.

“I don’t hit with any knee,” Clark said.

But what’s worse--a guy who can’t run, or a guy who can run but won’t? Meet Dave Parker. Whoever first called Mike Hargrove the Human Rain Delay obviously never saw Parker’s home run trot. Slow? Tumbleweeds roll up hills faster.

When Big Dave did his stretch limo act in the playoffs, the Blue Jays were apoplectic, firing charges of crass and blatant showboating. Manager Tony La Russa of the A’s tried to defuse the situation by suggesting that Parker used to be even worse, which, incredible as it seems, is true. The man can w-a-l-k.

Bad glove:

Donell Nixon and Walt Weiss

Nixon is on the team for his speed, but as the Giants’ backup outfielder learned last week, once you enter a postseason game, even if you can run, you cannot hide.

So it happened that in the eighth inning of Game 3, as a late-inning substitute in right field, he nearly saved the Chicago Cubs by trying to catch a fly ball with his face. He missed, the ball rolled to the warning track for an error, and only good relief pitching saved the Giants’ 5-4 lead.

Nixon, who made three errors in just 95 mostly late-inning appearances this year, needs to learn the definition of defensive replacement.

Weiss only wishes there were somewhere to run. From rookie of the year in 1988 to part-time player in 1989, Weiss’ much publicized downfall this summer was caused by torn knee cartilage that has diminished his exceptional fielding ability. La Russa says the knee won’t be 100% until next season.

In 84 games, Weiss committed 15 errors--high on the A’s. Throw in a .233 batting average and his recent platooning with Mike Gallego becomes understandable.

Just bad:

Kevin Mitchell and Jose Canseco

Mitchell’s major league-leading 47 home runs were the most boring part of his game. He spent the rest of the summer shaving interesting lines in his hair, making interesting running catches of fly balls with his bare hand, and having interesting telephone conversations.

When there were gang arrests or shootings in his hometown of San Diego, he would run to the phone to find out which friends were involved, and which ones weren’t.

Then, on those rare times he was sick, Mitchell ate Vicks VapoRub. Rolled his fingers in the jar, then stuck those fingers in his mouth. Now, that’s bad.

With the A’s, bad is spelled J-o-s-e. As in, 1-900-234-JOSE. As in doing 120 m.p.h. in a Jaguar that closely resembles a cherry-red Batmobile. As in, packing a pistol in that badmobile. As in, hitting 17 homers and driving in 57 runs in half a season. As in, hitting a playoff home run that would have cleared customs, if Toronto had only opened the roof.

Hatcher factor:

Robby Thompson and Tony Phillips

This phenomenon has been occuring for years, but only last October was it given a name. That’s when the guy who came off the bench to grab some of the World Series spotlight seemed so typical of all those unsung stars before him.

That guy was Dodger utility man Mickey Hatcher, who dived into bases and across the outfield grass, who shook his fist and shouted at the crowd, who sprinted through home runs as if somebody were chasing him.

That is where Thompson comes in. The Giants’ quiet second baseman already has experience at this Hatcher business, having won Game 3 off the playoffs with a two-run homer during which he never slowed down. And at least one teammate thinks he has the advantage of history.

“He’s a throwback to the ‘50s,” teammate Brett Butler said. “You know, Bobby Thomson, Robby Thompson. At least it sounds the same.”

For the A’s, Phillips is the name. Playing everywhere in the Bay Area, save maybe catcher, is his game.

In the playoffs against Toronto, Phillips started games at second base and third base, and saved more than a few runs with some flashy play on the right side of the infield.

With Carney Lansford ailing, he should get his share of playing time in the series.

Salary driven:

Craig Lefferts and Rickey Henderson

A widely accepted baseball theory is that a player performs better in the final year of his contract, particularly if he has the chance to become a free agent that winter. After all, what better motivation than family and trust fund?

Meet Giant reliever Craig Lefferts. He had 20 saves last year and, as soon as San Diego’s Mark Davis signs somewhere, he will be the top left-handed reliever on the market. His $600,000 salary could reach seven figures. If . . .

“I’m not even thinking about that,” Lefferts protested last week before obviously trying too hard in the playoffs and allowing one run with two walks in one relief inning.

Meanwhile, Oakland’s free-agent-to-be, Rickey Henderson, is looking toward higher things. He ran himself into Mark Langston megabucks-land with his stupendous league championship series. Next stop, Orel Hershiser-type money. Henderson says that only makes sense.

“I’m a money player,” Rickey said.

Just wait until after the World Series.

Hard luck:

Dave Dravecky and Dave Stewart

In what now figures to be his last appearance in a Giant uniform, injured pitcher Dave Dravecky threw out the first ball before Game 3 of the playoffs. Not that he wants to leave the organization but hasn’t he endured enough?

Since joining the Giants on July 4, 1987, Dravecky has been on the disabled list twice with a sore left shoulder and once with a broken left arm. In between, he made a heartwarming comeback from surgery to remove a cancerous tumor and half of the pitching muscle from his upper left arm.

Then came Monday at Candlestick Park, in the Giants’ playoff-winning celebration, for which Dravecky said he was prepared. He put his recovering left arm in a sling, and a brace, and wore a heavy shirt.

“And I’m not going to go jumping in any piles of people,” he promised before the game.

He never got a chance. On his way to the mound to celebrate, he was hit in the back and the arm was broken again, setting him back two more months.

Compared to that, Oakland’s Stewart should feel lucky. So why doesn’t he?

Three consecutive 20-win seasons, three straight second-place finishes in the American League Cy Young Award balloting. And that’s the prospect Stewart faces again as he prepares to take his 21-9 record home and listen to Bret Saberhagen’s acceptance speech.

Already prepared for his fate, Stewart approached Kansas City’s Saberhagen during the regular season’s last weekend and kidded, “How can you do this to me?” At least he appeared to be kidding.

Hotdogs:

Will Clark and Rickey Henderson

He has a poster of Clint Eastwood hanging above his locker. He talks in a modified New Orleans screech. He walks like a stereotypical New Orleans sheriff. He likes wearing eye black even when the sun isn’t out, and answering questions that weren’t asked.

This, of course, is the Giants’ Clark. You were expecting maybe Scott Garrelts?

And the A’s have the irrepressible Rickey. You were expecting maybe Terry Steinbach?

Henderson is the top dog hotdog--with his tiptoeing into second base, fist pumping at third, entire bump-and-grind routines going around the bases after home runs.

All of this has made R. Henderson one of the least popular players among his peers, but does he care? If you don’t like it, he advises, “Keep me off the base.”

Game face:

Will Clark and Dave Stewart

Clark has a game face so different that it has been given a nickname, the Nuschler, which is actually Clark’s middle name.

When Clark tightens his jaws, curls his lips and looks as if he has just eaten some bad fruit, he is wearing his Nuschler, according to Giant catcher Bob Brenly. Clark maintains that he doesn’t know he’s doing it, but opponents certainly know. The expression often follows a bad swing, and almost just as often precedes a big hit.

But then, Oakland’s Stewart has one of the great faces, too, a glower that can melt batting helmets at 30 paces. If a person could stare down a Cy Young Award, Stewart would already have his mantle full.

Missing links:

Don Robinson and Mark McGwire

Some Giants call Don Robinson Cave Man, and for understandable reason. At 6-feet-4 and 235 pounds, he grunts, groans and growls his pitches past hitters.

True to his reputation, late this season he did all of that on a bum knee. Although he didn’t start in the playoffs because of the sore knee, he could be a Series starter because of the knee injury to Mike LaCoss.

Unlike that imposter roaming the Coliseum stands, who paints himself green, Mark McGwire is the A’s real hulk. At 6-5 and 225, he’s a Goliath with freckles. The first baseman’s home run totals are equally Gargantuan--117 in only three full major league seasons.

Switched hitters:

Bill Bathe and Dave Henderson

Giant pinch-hitter Bill Bathe probably won’t play a big role but, what the heck, he might get a mention on national TV.

He spent the first six years of his professional life with the Oakland organization, finally appearing for 39 games with the A’s in 1986, batting .184 before being traded to the Chicago Cubs. He was signed by the Giants as a free agent last winter, but the A’s aren’t crying about it. In 32 big league at-bats this year, he had two fewer strikeouts, seven, than hits, nine.

On the other side, squeezed between his Angel-bashing home run in the 1986 playoffs and his 94-RBI season with the A’s in 1988, Dave Henderson spent 15 games with the Giants in 1987.

He also hardly generated a yawn, batting .238 in 21 at-bats before opting for free agency and the other side of the bay in December of 1987. San Francisco could have used his 39 homers the last two seasons.

Little big men:

Brett Butler and Mike Gallego

The Giants’ 5-10 center fielder finally discovered what opponents felt about him when he came here as a free agent from the Cleveland Indians before the 1988 season.

“Mike Krukow (Giant pitcher) walked up to me and said, ‘I always thought you were a little pest,’ ” Butler recalled. “I thought, ‘That’s fine.’ A lot of times, the little people end up being the big ones.”

Although he only hit .211 in the playoffs, he hit .283 during the regular season with a team-high 31 stolen bases. He’s no Rickey Henderson but, when Butler is at his best, there’s small difference.

Oakland’s Gallego is so small that when the Little League champions recently visited the Coliseum, Gallego had to look up to congratulate a couple of the winners.

Gallego is officially listed as 5-8, a munchkin alongside McGwire and Canseco. His postseason impact, however, has been big. Gallego started twice at shortstop against Toronto, fielded flawlessly, and laid down so good a squeeze bunt that even the lumbering McGwire was able to score.

No relief:

Steve Bedrosian and Rick Honeycutt

Bedrosian is the Giants’ right-handed stopper, and he had three saves in four playoff games to prove it.

But do the Giants really want their ace to allow four hits and two walks in 3 1/3 innings? Do they really want him to require more trips to the mound by Manager Roger Craig in the final two innings than in the eight previous innings combined?

“Every time he comes out, I get ready to talk him into letting me stay,” Bedrosian said sheepishly.

When the A’s shipped Greg Cadaret to the New York Yankees in the Rickey Henderson deal, Honeycutt was left as Oakland’s top left-handed relief pitcher.

In the playoffs, that was not a heartening development. Honeycutt made three appearances before he got anyone out--recording that one against the eighth hitter he faced. His final playoff ERA was 32.40.

His next assignment, goodness gracious, could be Will Clark.

No recall:

Matt Williams and Jose Canseco

Although Bo knows, according to the commercials, Matt and Jose apparently don’t.

When asked about his favorite teams while growing up, Giant third baseman Williams said: “To be honest, I never watched baseball when I was growing up. Until I was drafted, I didn’t know which team was in which league.”

But Williams is a historian compared to Canseco. The A’s slugger doesn’t know the names of opposing pitchers, didn’t know who Magic Johnson was until a couple of years ago, and has to use a crib sheet to recall the previous night’s score for his Jose Hotline.

He’s also not too clear on the legal speed limit for cars.