At Least Somebody Had Presents of Mind to Take Care of Them

Ho! Ho! Ho! It’s time for a trip to Horton Plaza to see if I can find the gifts on my Christmas list.

I don’t expect to have much luck in men’s apparel, lingerie or home furnishings, though I might be able to find something in fragrances to improve the local football franchise.

As is normally the case, my list doesn’t run to the conventional ties, sweaters and video cassettes.

However, I am nothing if not thoughtful.

So get the ribbons and wrap ready, here I go.

For Alex Spanos, I am looking for a key to San Diego. Of course, I will have to spend a little extra and get him a map as well, so he will not get lost.

Steve Ortmayer, who was fired as the San Diego Charger general manager in Stockton, is in search of a job. If Al Davis returns my call, which may not be likely, I am going to suggest that he re-hire Ortmayer as a Christmas present from me. I am going to recommend that Ortmayer get a position in the public relations department.

I would give Mark Davis 44 saves in his new residence in the Kansas City Royal bullpen. I would also give Greg Harris, Craig Lefferts and Mark Grant 44 saves in the Padres bullpen, and let them divvy them up in whatever way they see fit.

Dan Henning gets the vacation special, eight days and seven nights on Scribes Hill. He might find that his football team actually looks better from further away.

And wouldn’t Steve Garvey appreciate the gift of 12 months without seeing his name in print?

Remember Mannie Jackson? He’s the Minnesota business executive who was going to buy a National Basketball Assn. franchise for San Diego. I’m trying to find a partner who will kick in maybe $75 million and let Mannie run the team.

I suspect that Jenny and Sid Craig, the prospective Padre owners, could also use the gift I have in mind for Mannie Jackson. However, should the deal be consummated, it would be interesting in that the franchise would change hands from an owner whose business adds pounds to one whose business subtracts them.

Ron Newman has to get a hand. Not an ovation, a hand. He has so many indoor soccer championship rings he has almost run out of fingers on the hands he has.

You know who needs a new toy? Eugene V. Klein. He no longer has his football team, and he has sold his race horses. Maybe he would like a National Hockey League team.

Gill Byrd needn’t despair. He will never again be a deserving but ignored Pro Bowl non-participant. I am giving him a campaign manager for Christmas.

I’d like to get a present for Gary Anderson, but I’ve lost track of the guy.

Jack McKeon doesn’t really have everything, but he seems to have a knack for going out and getting what he needs. Maybe I could find him a third baseman.

Lee Hamilton may be aggravating with his “Baja to the Canadian Rockies” pomposity, but I’d stick a new XTRA contract into his stocking. He’s a refreshing presence on the airwaves.

Absolutely nothing is aggravating about Tony Gwynn, but a revised contract would be a nice present. He will not be making much more in 1990 than Philadelphia is paying Carmelo Martinez.

Joe Carter doesn’t need a Christmas present. For heaven’s sake, the guy is moving from Cleveland to San Diego and getting paid $9.2 million to do it. Most folks would pay to make that move.

I’m looking for a Joan Kroc clone for Jerry Kapstein. It’s not that he needs another mother-in-law, but he’s the guy in charge of finding a new Padre owner, and it would be awfully nice if he or she was as good as the one they have now.

Darrin Nelson, who had the good taste to reject a trade to Dallas, will get a copy of his favorite song: “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys.”

I hope I’ll be able to find a pin-striped wet suit for Tim Flannery, who may be the first ballplayer to retire to a surf board. Most guys only figuratively find the real world to be a cold one when they retire.

Lee Williams, Leslie O’Neal and Burt Grossman will get a six-months’ supply of Top Shelf’s Quarterback Casserole so they won’t starve during the off-season. Their 16-course regular season menu ends Sunday with something scrambled and scrambling . . . John Elway.

The gift of a few more runs should give Bruce Hurst a gosh durn good season by golly, maybe even 20 victories.

You knew I wouldn’t forget Jim McMahon, even though he is forgettable. He would get a book of etiquette and a tutor to read it to him. Given some time, McNose might even grow up to be just like Billy Joe Tolliver.

This should take care of another Christmas, assuming I can get all this done with $79.13 left on my credit limit.