A Trade of Ruthian Stupidity

Let’s discuss the worst deal in the history of baseball.

Was it Babe Ruth for $125,000 in cash, Jan. 3, 1920? No. Roger Maris and two players for Marv Throneberry and three players, Dec. 11, 1959? Nope. Ernie Broglio and two nobodies for Lou Brock and two bigger nobodies, June 15, 1964? Unh-uh. Willie McGee for Bob Sykes, Oct. 21, 1981? Sorry. David Cone for Ed Hearn, March 27, 1987? Afraid not.

No, the worst deal in the history of baseball was made on Dec. 5, 1990, and on the wrong end of it were our old friends, America’s happiest deal-makers since Monty Hall, those merry monks, the funniest friars club ever, the San Diego Padres.

Dopiest team in the West.

On paper--and, believe me, the paper this deal was written on can’t be found in your dining room--the swapping of Joe Carter and Roberto Alomar straight-up for Tony Fernandez and Fred McGriff sure does look like a trade that helps both sides. Instead, it turns out to be a trade that hurts both sides. My sides are killing me, from laughing.

San Diego now owns exactly none of these players. Not Joey, not Robbie, not Tony, not Freddie. And three of them batted 4-6-7 in the Toronto order Saturday night when the Blue Jays became the first team since the Yankees of 1977-78 to win back-to-back World Series.

Carter won the final game with a swing they’ll be talking about for years from Halifax to the Yukon. He hit .280 for the Series and knocked home eight runs.

Fernandez hit .333 for the Series, knocked home more runs than Carter did and handled every chance at shortstop (Jose Offerman, eat your heart out) without an error.

As for Alomar, all he did was hit .480, tie Paul Molitor for the World Series lead in total hits, steal four bases and make more assists than anyone else in the field.

Permit me to put these San Diego nuts in a nutshell.

The people-pleasin’ Padres gave away the starting left fielder, shortstop and second baseman to the champions of baseball, on the simple condition that in return they could please have . . .

Nobody.

OK, nobodies. Plural.

A couple of minor leaguers whose names wouldn’t mean anything to you if you heard them. The kind of guys who aren’t household words inside their own households. The kind of pitchers who are only 511 victories behind Cy Young. The kind of hitters who spray the ball to all parts of the infield.

They traded Carter and Alomar and Fernandez and McGriff.

Shrewd.

Had the Padres hung on to Fernandez and McGriff, what eventually happened to Toronto wouldn’t have been so goofy. But they packed off Fernandez to the New York Mets for those Cooperstown-bound legends of the diamond, Wally Whitehurst and D.J. Dozier, and then they made a gift of McGriff to a needy Atlanta team for several minor leaguers and a Jane Fonda workout-for-pregnant-women tape.

Fernandez ended up right back where he started, in Toronto, when the equally brainy Mets couldn’t fit him into their plans to lose a hundred games.

And so, you ask, how do you build a World Series champion?

You dial 619-555-1212 and say to the directory-assistance operator: “San Diego Padres, please.”

You want Tony Gwynn?

Offer a carton of Milk Duds, see what they say.

I’m happy for Joe Carter’s sake in particular because what happened Saturday night couldn’t have happened to a better guy. At least when the Cleveland Indians got rid of him, they got Carlos Baerga and Sandy Alomar in return. And at least the Indians got the better part of 5 1/2 seasons out of Carter before they let him go.

Poor Joe played with the Chicago Cubs, Indians and Padres before joining his current team. That’s like being squirted with three seltzer bottles before someone finally sends off the clowns.

One pitch before the one he sent screaming toward Saskatchewan, Carter had swung feebly at a low delivery by Mitch Williams, a man who couldn’t find home plate with a Geiger counter. You figured if Carter simply stood there and watched seven pitches without swinging, there was no way Mitch could throw three of them over the dish.

But he did. And Joe jolted it.

So ended another adventure for Mitch Williams, a cross between Dizzy Dean and Daffy Duck. By the way, on Dec. 5, 1988, two years to the day before the worst trade ever made, Williams was traded from the Texas Rangers to the Cubs, who gave up Rafael Palmeiro to get him.

File this under Worst Trade Ever Made, section 1, example B.