Fantasy Baseball in a League of Its Own : Some people think it is just pure escapism, a way to forget about the Arnolds’ marital troubles or the news that a presidential daughter will pose for Playboy.

So I signed on to my computer Monday morning and noticed some e-mail from our nation’s capital. Was it Jack Kent Cooke countering my bid to purchase the Daily News? No. It was just a colleague--and he wasn’t offering a tip.

Here’s the quote:

man, tough day in boxscore land . . . w/beck and farr getting bombed . . . . is there a reliever besides lee smith worth a damn this year?

If you don’t understand this message, you may not care to read on. That’s OK. I understand.

Not everyone is a baseball fan. And not every baseball fan knows the bittersweet appeal of fantasy baseball. But plenty of us do. Goodness knows how many O’Malley and Steinbrenner wanna-bes scan the box scores day after day to follow the progress, or the lack thereof, of players they “own” and “manage.”

Some people think it is just pure escapism, a way to forget about the Arnolds’ marital troubles or the news that a presidential daughter will pose for Playboy. But it’s more than that. Like members of a secret society, we fantasy players--or “rotisserie leaguers,” if you prefer--share a language and a sense of values the rest of humanity doesn’t comprehend.

If you don’t indulge in this pasttime, you probably know someone who does. We probably number somewhere in the hundreds of thousands; our ranks include senators, bartenders, judges, mechanics and New York Gov. Mario Cuomo, owner of the “Queens Alliance.” We have spawned a cottage industry of publications and computer services. Those of us who play in different leagues share a certain bond. (We’d all like to share a certain Bonds. Alas, there’s only one per league.)

Consider Larry Solters, a friend of a friend. For 14 years, Solters, a music publicist who lives in Sherman Oaks, has owned the Brooklyn Eagles. He describes himself as “commissioner emeritus” of the so-called World Baseball League.

If you’re still reading this and don’t have a clue, there’s something I should explain. Fantasy teams are composed of actual major leaguers. Points are based on the statistical performance of the players. Scoring systems and other rules vary widely from league to league. Teams are typically formed by a draft or an “auction,” with each manager starting with an equal “payroll.” (In most leagues, it isn’t just pride that’s at stake.)

“In 1984 we won it all,” recalls Solters. “Tony Armas, Lloyd Moseby, Reggie Jackson and Fred Lynn. And a rookie just coming up--Ryne Sandberg. And Jack Morris. Mr. Horse. Just give him the ball and let him go.”

Other fantasy leaguers may wonder about a team with five outfielders. That’s just the nature of the World Baseball League (WBL). Position doesn’t matter. At the year’s end, the lineup must consist of six players, one of whom must be a pitcher. “Like a poker hand,” Solters says.

Team names are not to be taken lightly. Solters is from Brooklyn; a key client was and is The Eagles. During his years with the film studio, his franchise was known as the Universal Brooklyn Eagles, but now they’re the Brooklyn Eagles again--a source of stability in a changing world.

How are the Brooklyn Eagles doing this year? At the moment, Solters’ club was seventh in a 16-team league. Does he think the Eagles--the ballclub, I mean--can make a successful comeback? “The next couple of weeks will decide,” he says.

As so often happens when managers from different leagues get together, we learned we had a common player. Solters assured me that Randy Johnson--the ace of the Seattle Mariners, the Brooklyn Eagles and my very own Nippon Ham Fighters--will recover from his slow start.

Easy for him to say. ERA doesn’t mean diddly in the WBL. But in my league--the Major Indoor Baseball League (MIBL)--it’s very important. And Johnson’s ERA is a stinking 6.04. And if you don’t know what ERA is, just go away.

It’s obvious that T. S. Eliot never played fantasy baseball. April isn’t the cruelest month. April is a month of fast starts, hope and patience. No, May is the cruelest month. May is when you start to discern whether you’ll be contender or an also-ran. May is when players that begin the season in slumps don’t snap out of it. May is when Rod Beck blows a save by giving up three earned runs--including two homers--in 1/3 of an inning and Steve Farr does even worse, giving up four runs and watching his ERA soar to 7.36.

May is when your emotions get yanked to and fro. When you look for that extra edge. When you wonder how to shake the team from its lethargy.

I’m thinking that the Nippon Ham Fighters could use a change. You see, I didn’t name this team. When he founded the franchise, Steve Harvey, who writes the Only in L.A. column, borrowed the name from an actual team in Japan’s major leagues. I have kept it out of tradition. But, tradition schmadition.

Unfortunately, the name Disgruntled Postal Workers has already been taken. Since the Valley wants its own first Major League franchise, perhaps I should go for something like the Reseda Earthquake.

By the way, you shouldn’t believe those rumors that Harvey was squeezed out in a hostile takeover. He left voluntarily, muttering something about his mental health.

Some owners just lose all perspective.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth, Calif. 91311.