Padres Open Home Show, Pandora’s Box

Bah, humbug.

Won’t the Grinch please steal opening night? He’s off in April? Then how about if Bobby Grich comes out of retirement and does the deed?

One thing you know is that no one gets married on opening day in San Diego. At least not in a tuxedo. The ushers are wearing all of them. I thought at first it was Maitre d’ Night.

Why don’t they wear tuxedos at the July 27 game with Cincinnati? It’s every bit as big a game as April 9 against the Dodgers.

The red, white and blue bunting certainly dresses up the stadium, but it is supposed to signify an event of importance. It will be quite appropriate when the All-Star game is played here July 14.

However, Thursday night represented Game 4 of the 1992 regular season. Put the stuff back into mothballs with the owners’ wallets until the All-Star game.

Marching bands are no big deal, of course. The Chargers have one every game. I assume the Padres are planning to do the same.

Do those radio stations pay for all the parking spaces they fill with their remote trailers?

Writers are culprits, too. Guys show up wearing ties they don’t even know how to knot. I think they just loosen the nooses from last year and slip them on again.

Now, lest I be accused of being the Scrooge of Spring, the tribute to past Padre All-Stars was a nice touch. They stretched it a bit by including Randy Myers, who made it with Cincinnati, but he didn’t show up for the introductions anyway. Appropriately, Steve Garvey was wearing a sport coat and tie and Rollie Fingers strolled in from the bullpen to throw out the first pitch.

But, harumph, this little tribute would have been just as nice before the game of July 12.

Right?

What is so compelling about this night that 51,280 people beg and plead for seats and park somewhere past the mission and fight traffic in the aftermath?

They are going to play another game tonight, probably before a crowd less than half as large. And then exactly 79 more at home and 158 overall. Each will be worth 1/162nd of a season in the standings.

Indeed, you have as good an opportunity to see one whale of a game on Sept. 14, when these same Dodgers are in town.

There were, to be sure, some curiosities and questions which the rabid fan could not wait a night to have answered. Things or people which had to be seen or experienced.

What, for example, would it be like to sit in a smoke-free stadium?

There was no way to tell Thursday. The pregame fireworks show in center field created a smoke cloud more offensive than all the smokers in the stadium could exhale in six months. The pyrotechnics were presumably courtesy of Randy Myers’ locker.

After all the talk about the Padres acquiring Eric Davis in the off-season, it was going to be interesting to see if he was in uniform.

He was . . . a Dodger uniform.

Did you notice the new grass? Pretty. But did you notice the dirt was new, too? The Padre infielders did not like the old dirt, so now they have new dirt. I’d tell you where they got that much dirt if you hadn’t already heard about the Democratic primaries.

To see Craig Lefferts’ debut as a starting pitcher you had to be there opening night, but you had to be there early. Lefferts, as it turned out, was still a short man. He was just getting in his one-third inning at the other end of what would become a 6-3 loss.

You wanted to see how Gary Sheffield has adjusted to a new league? Apparently the rules are different. He thought he could merely tag third base to retire a Dodger baserunner when no force was in effect. The next thing you know someone will try to tell me the American League has a gimmick called a designated hitter and seven teams in each division.

There was considerable curiosity about whether Benito Santiago would ever get a hit, but that gave way to curiosity about whether there were any Dodgers who wouldn’t get a hit.

All-Star ballots were not yet available. Presumably tuxedoed ushers will be distributing them at the May 26 game with Pittsburgh. Put your X next to Fred McGriff for first base. If he keeps hitting like he is so far, he will be more of a lock than another first baseman named Bush.

If you were curious about how the fans would be occupied (entertained?) between innings, the answer is tritely . . . as in “2 Legit 2 Quit.” Hit that one with a hammer and give us more dancing groundskeepers. Tell me those two guys were not opening-day ringers.

A more appropriate song for the occassion might have been the one played after the sixth inning: “Friends in Low Places.”

As for the aftermath, come tonight. You’ll get home a lot faster.

And you will be able to answer one more of 1992’s most pressing questions.

Who is Dave Eiland?