His Batting Average Isn’t Good in Fighting Baseball Statistics

By the numbers (or not).

Jeff Joseph, a San Diego attorney, wants to save the sports pages of your newspapers from the “propeller-heads.” These are the fans whose craving for more baseball statistics is insatiable.

As Joseph sees it, newspapers have been herded by this bulimic minority into providing pages and pages of small-type numbers that dice the game into smaller and smaller meaningless statistical bits.

Most doubles on Astroturf against left-handed Catholic pitchers in day games following night games, that kind of thing.

“That’s for the Rotisserie (a fantasy game popular among certain males) geeks or people who want to make bets,” Joseph fumes. “Most of us who want to know about baseball also have real lives.”

He suggests only three statistics, AVG, HR, RBI. He suggests only regulars at each position be listed.

You could see who’s carrying the team. You could compare positions team-by-team.

Joseph told me his system would eliminate the cry every year that fans are boobs and can’t pick the best players for the All-Star Game.

I told him I’d make a few calls, pro bono. Soon I realized that he’s swimming against a swift stream.

Bob Wright, executive sports editor of the Union-Tribune, says he hears frequently from people who want more, not fewer, numbers. Many have their own systems.

“Baseball, more than any other game, attracts statistics junkies,” Wright said. “We’ve been offered many, many convoluted statistical packages.”

I told Kevin Bronson, assistant sports editor of the San Diego County Edition of The Times, that I had spoken to a man with an idea about baseball statistics.

He replied: “Oh no, not another one of those.”

Gary Hyvonen, assistant sports editor at the (Oceanside) Blade-Citizen, says newspapers are being prodded, statistics-wise, by Rotisserie, USA Today and ESPN: “We give as many stats as we can.”

Joseph, who labors for Caltrans, is unmoved. He says his system would liberate fans from the tyranny of other men’s numbers.

“Statistics,” he insists, “should be user-friendly.”

Betrayal in Porno Family

The case of the (very) naughty employee.

Charlie Morgan, 49, owns and operates Ever So Naughty, an X-rated video & sex paraphernalia store on Palm Avenue in San Diego, next to Imperial Beach.

He thought he’d found a fellow to work the busy swing shift, when much of the store’s clientele dashes in to make a purchase or a rental:

“He’d been coming around for two years, polite and soft-spoken. He’d asked a number of times about employment. I decided to give him a chance.”

Morgan gave the fellow some training and a pep talk last week and put him in charge around 5 p.m. About 8 p.m. Morgan came back to see how things were going.

The fellow had vanished. So had all the money in the cash register. And the fellow’s job application.

Morgan did a quick inventory of the X-rated videos and an “eyeball” survey of the other merchandise -- plastic novelties, eye-popping magazines, aphrodisiac oils, etc. Nothing (apparently) missing.

It was not the perfect crime. The 29-year-old had swiped his job application but had used his real name.

His name and domicile are well-known to street cops. He’s a frequent participant in the criminal justice system.

Cops made a quick arrest, and now he’s housed in County Jail, accused of embezzlement, resisting arrest and drugs. No money was recovered.

The whole incident left Morgan saddened. Even porno dealers have feelings.

“I try to build a sense of family with my employees,” Morgan said. “I think that builds a sense of loyalty. When an employee turns on me, it hurts.”

Gypsies Outside the Palace

So who is this mysterious Omaha billionaire investor-raider Warren E. Buffett who last week bought 15% of General Dynamics and whose intentions are unknown?

Just wait.

Even before the GD purchase, Janet Lowe, former business editor of the San Diego Tribune, was preparing an unauthorized biography of Buffett.

She plans to take her motor home to Omaha to get the feel of Buffett’s environs. One idea is to park outside his home until he consents to an interview.