The Sad Part Is, There Is No Answer

After witnessing a particularly ghastly Friday the 13th game of baseball between the hard-luck Dodgers and the Class AAA San Diego Padres, I made my way down to Tom Lasorda’s managerial fallout shelter with the sincere intention of offering him advice, comfort, solace, something. Instead, what I came up with was. . .

Nothing.

I couldn’t think of a thing.

What was there to say? The Dodger world was in chaos. They were under .500 for the first time since May. The hated Giants were 40 games above .500. The century-old Dodgers had seven more victories than the toddling Florida Marlins. They had just been swept in a four-game series--at Dodger Stadium, no less--by the second-worst club in baseball, the Colorado Rockies. How low can you go?

Lasorda didn’t know what to say, either.

“Want a cookie?” he asked.

No, thanks.

“Mrs. Fields,” he said.

No, thanks.

The 65-year-old manager was too sad, too tired, too sick to his stomach from a season that had stalled in mid-summer. Even his contract renewal didn’t much help. Not when the only teams you’re ahead of are a San Diego team stripped like a carcass by a piranha and a four-month-old Colorado team that couldn’t sweep four in a row from Pepperdine. Not when baserunners overrun bases and infielders forget to call time. Not in a nonsensical season in which Orel Hershiser is hitting 280 points higher than Darryl Strawberry.

From behind his desk, Lasorda shook his head and said: “Do you believe this? We can’t hit guys I’ve never heard of. We got beat by some guy the other day, (Kent) Bottenfield, who was nobody. The guy’s nobody. But we make him look like he’s Sandy (censored) Koufax.”

And what to do?

What to say?

How loud should a manager scream when a team is going down a Chavez Ravine drain? Lasorda says if he thought screaming would work, you would hear him from Santa Ana to Santa Barbara. Or he could start juggling the lineup, or maybe benching people. But whom to bench? Start a youth movement? The Dodgers already are waist-deep into a youth movement. Look who’s out there--Eric Karros, Mike Piazza, Jose Offerman, Pedro Astacio, the 15 or 20 Martinez brothers.

“Who should I bring up--(Raul) Mondesi? Sure,” Lasorda says. “But is Brett Butler our problem? Butler’s not our problem.”

So what is their problem?

Lasorda says: “Damned if I know.”

People nag him that Offerman is the problem. That he plays shortstop with his head up his cap. Well, yes. He does. Trouble is, the Dodgers haven’t been hitting. Their team average is the fifth-worst in the league. But Offerman does hit. And the infielders on the bench--Dave Hansen, Lenny Harris, Mike Sharperson--are more hitters than fielders.

Sometimes, I think the most underappreciated Dodger in history must be Alfredo Griffin. The few years when he was their shortstop, he shored their dam like a beaver. But maybe Offerman will have to learn to field the way Ozzie Smith eventually learned to hit. On the job.

If only Offy were the only one. Where was Karros’ head at, rounding first on a poke to left as though he were Rickey Henderson, then failing to get back? Or letting a runner score from second on a groundout to short?

Lasorda rubbed his forehead in disbelief. “He lays there with the ball for five minutes while the runner runs home.”

But why stop there? Cory Snyder drops a routine pop. Offerman strolls over to chat with pitcher Omar Daal while the Padre on second says: “OK, guess I’ll go to third.” Daal attempts to pick off a man at first, ignoring the same runner, who breaks for home and is out by an eyelash.

I watched a game recently when Henry Rodriguez, playing first base, deftly cut off the throw from the outfield. Unfortunately, the throw was headed for home plate, as was the runner, who scored uncontested.

The Dodgers play in smog, but are in a fog.

“Corn Dog (Snyder) drops a fly ball 10 minutes after making a spectacular catch,” Lasorda says. “What am I supposed to do, scream in his face?

“Most of these guys are harder on themselves than I’d ever be. This is killing these guys. It’s killing me. It’s last year all over again. How does a team like this fall this far back? How does it lose four straight at home to Colo-(censored)-rado?

“I’m asking you. Tell me.”

Tom, I’d tell you.

If I knew.