THE WORLD SERIES : OAKLAND ATHLETICS vs. SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS : He’s Running, A’s Are Running Away

Wake me when it’s over. On second thought, don’t bother.

Having trouble sleeping, are you? Try the 1989 World Series. As a soporific, it’s second to none. The Valium World Series. A barbiturate in cleats.

The good news is, it’s not going to last long.

The San Francisco Giants are just the piano in this recital. The Oakland A’s have all the solos. The Giants are just the scenery. The show is being put on by Oakland. Like the magician who saws the girl in half.

The Giants are half-sawn.

You know, in the fight game, they have these pugs, they call them “trial horses,” or they refer to one of them as “strictly an opponent.”

These guys got to be able to take it but not dish it out. Hit, but not too hard. They got to be respectable but not successful.

That’s the Giants in this tournament. The backdrop. The dart board. The guys getting the knives thrown at them. The stooges. The straight men. Like the guy who says, “How hot was it?” to the comic or “No, Mr. Bones, why do firemen wear red suspenders?”

If you missed Game 2, just rerun the tape of Game 1. Or get some pictures of a cat eating a canary.

The Giants are being dispatched without a whimper. They look like a bunch of guys going to the electric chair. They’ve scored one run on nine hits in 18 innings. The team logo should be a foul tip rampant on a field of popups.

The Oakland Athletics scarcely notice they’ve showed up. They think it’s just a continuation of batting practice. Their starting pitchers have trouble lasting five innings. Their pitchers haved given up three home runs, three doubles, one triple and 11 other base hits, so far. They should incorporate as a charitable institution. It isn’t as if they give up home runs to the registered sultans of swat of the game. Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire haven’t hit one yet. The Giants’ pitchers give up home runs to .233 hitters, guys who hit only three homers all year and six lifetime, guys who don’t go into home run trots but turn around to see who did it.

The World Series hasn’t had a single exciting moment to date. It’s about as exciting as watching a travelogue or home movies of your brother-in-law’s Caribbean cruise.

Every game is over by the third inning. It’s like watching a mystery movie where they tip off the murderer in the second reel.

You knew the 1989 World Series (and pennant race) was a foregone conclusion as soon as the Athletics got Rickey Henderson.

Giving the Oakland A’s Rickey Henderson is like giving a shark another tooth, a bear another claw.

Rickey Henderson is not a player, he’s a team. He’s so fast, he’s invisible. He wouldn’t even make a blip on a radar screen once he gets started. He was running 9.7 second hundreds when he was in grade school. He stole 130 bases in 149 games once and is the greatest baserunner in history, or will be when he steals just 68 more next season to overtake Lou Brock.

If you walk him, you might as well give him a double. Yet, he walks almost as much as Babe Ruth. He led the league twice in walks. This is because a pitcher doesn’t just throw him one of those “Here, hit this! It’s better than walking you!” pitches. If they do, Rickey hits it out of the park. He hit 28 home runs one year (and stole 87 bases). He hit 24 homers another year (and stole 80 bases). You get no options, no bailout with Rickey Henderson.

He may be pound-for-pound, the best player in the game. Inch-for-inch, there’s no argument (he’s 5-foot-10). Anything this dangerous should at least have rattles.

The thing about his strike zone is, he doesn’t have any. He’s unpitchable.

Why the Yankees gave him up is not known but should be prosecutable. When he left Yankee Stadium, he was only hitting .247 and had stolen 25 bases. At Oakland, he stole 52 bases in 85 games and only got caught stealing six times. At New York, he got caught 14 times out of the 29.

Rickey won’t cop out to feeling discouragement in New York. “In the hot weather, your legs get looser,” he says with a perfectly straight face. Rickey came over to Oakland the end of June.

He hit .294 when he returned to Oakland (where he had had some of his salad years--.303, .319, 130, 108 and 100 stolen bases). He scored 72 runs in 85 games, batted in 70 runs in 85 games, got 90 hits and nine home runs (vs. three in New York).

The Giants have no more idea what to do with Rickey Henderson in the World Series than Toronto did in the playoffs. (Against Toronto, he stole eight bases, hit two home runs, batted .400 and scored eight runs).

Against the Giants Sunday night, he reached base every time. The only time the Giants retired him was at third base and that was an upset. They should have bronzed the ball for catcher Terry Kennedy.

Someone wanted to know in the interview room what the difference between the Oakland A’s who lost to the Dodgers last year and the team which is winning as if the Giants aren’t there this year. The answer is Rickey Henderson. He’s made a mismatch of the World Series. He won’t even be 31 years old till December 25. Oakland must feel as if he came down the chimney, anyway, or they found him under the tree. The guy in the Santa Claus suit would be George Steinbrenner. But, it’s Oakland giving with the Ho, Ho, Ho. In a sour grapes statement, a Yankee scout complained, “Over there, he gave effort only every other game.”

With Rickey Henderson, that might be quite enough. It’d be one way to even up the World Series.