ALL-STAR GAME : Piazza Makes Jinx Sophomoric

There are certain superstitions baseball lives by. It is considered unlucky to mention a no-hitter in progress in the dugout for fear of angering the baseball gods into ordaining a hit. It was considered unlucky to strike out the first batter until, one day, Dizzy Dean in some exasperation wanted to know, “How can you strike ‘em all out if you don’t get the first one?”

But one of the most enduring of all baseball superstitions is the one that holds there is a “sophomore jinx.” According to its logic, a player who had an outstanding rookie season inevitably suffered a disastrous or near-disastrous second season.

It’s difficult to see what it’s based on. You will look in vain in the record book to find any substantiation, instances of where such players had anything but improvements from their rookie to sophomore seasons. Because he was a pitcher his first five years, it’s difficult to compute Babe Ruth’s first and second years but, in general, you will find he went from .322 his first full year as a batsman to .376, no less, his second. His homers took a quantum leap from 29 to 54.

Everywhere it’s the same. Ty Cobb went from .320 to league-leading .350, Rogers Hornsby from .313 to .327. Stan Musial went from .315 to .357 and a batting title. Henry Aaron went from .280 to .314 and in homers from 13 to 27.

And so on.

None of which will come as any surprise to Michael Joseph Piazza, the nearest thing to asuperstar in the catching irons today.

Mike Piazza is supposed to be in the firm embrace of that storied second-year jinx this season.

Some jinx! Piazza, at the All-Star break and playing in tonight’s game as the sole representative of the Dodgers, was batting .325 at the close of business Sunday. That’s up seven points from his average in 1993, when he was rookie of the year, one of only four catchers ever to get that honor in his league. Johnny Bench, Earl Williams and Benito Santiago were the others. And only seven catchers got it altogether.

Piazza has hit 21 home runs in a little more than half a season this year, compared to 35 all of last year. He has 76 RBIs. He had 112 for a full season last year.

Jinxes, of course, never stand the scrutiny of time or examination. Players who have second-year jinxes usually have third-, fourth- and fifth-year jinxes as well. What ordinarily happens is that the pitchers find the pitches the rookies can’t hit and feed them a diet of them.

Dodger players have been rookie of the year 13 times since the award was inaugurated in 1947--with a Dodger, Jackie Robinson, as the first winner. Far from being a jinx, it has been a springboard to a long and illustrious career for most.

A list of rookies of the year reads like a Hall of Fame roster. Willie Mays, Frank Robinson, Pete Rose, Willie McCovey, Tom Seaver and Don Newcombe were award winners. Not a bad second year in the lot.

You have to understand, Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays or Barry Bonds comes into the league with flags waving, bands playing. Piazza was almost smuggled in. Piazza was picked in the 62nd round and the popular misconception was, he was chosen because Manager Tom Lasorda was his godfather. He wasn’t. He was Piazza’s brother’s godfather.

Piazza didn’t fit the profile of the prototypical American ballplayer of the 20th Century anyway. He didn’t come from a farm or underprivileged background. Father was rich, in fact, rich enough to build him an indoor batting cage, rich enough to try to buy a major league baseball team, the Giants, of his own.

But indoor batting cages work only if you have the coordination to meet the balls served up, the eyesight to gauge their curvature and the strength to hit one over walls.

Piazza had these in abundance. He could hit more than batting cage serves. Only two rookies have ever hit more home runs than he did in his rookie season--Wally Berger and Frank Robinson. Only two ever had more RBIs than his 112.

Pitchers have no clue how to pitch to Piazza. Most of his home runs are not “pull” hits at all, but balls that land in right or right-center. He seldom hits a home run less than 400 feet. In short, even swinging late, he has the strength to drive a ball out of the park.

Given that he plays a position--catcher--that is perhaps the most important in the game, he should be in the hunt for the most valuable player award every year his numbers duplicate.

Most teams ask no more of a catcher than a .269 average and a dozen or so home runs with, say, 70 RBIs. Piazza passes those in mid-season.

But by baseball tradition, he should be walking around with a cloud over his head, like that character in L’il Abner, Joe Btfsplk. He should be standing in the rain, hiding under the bed, tiptoeing through a cemetery.

Instead, he’s going to be playing in the All-Star game tonight.

How did he avoid the hoodoo? The answer is, Piazza did it by treating it for what it is--nonexistent. He treats it like a high, outside changeup. He lays off it. Ignores it.

“I think, if it ever existed, it was an accumulation of trying too hard, pressing to live up to a past that you achieved by being relaxed,” he says.

“My position in the game is basically a defensive one and I have enough to think about without worrying about any jinx. I don’t think about numbers. I think about winning the game. That sort of takes your mind off yourself.”

For a catcher, Piazza suggests, a time at bat might be a relief, not a torment.

If a 21-homer, 76-RBI half-season is a jinx, a lot of guys might want to kill a chicken or stick a pin in a doll so they could catch it. For the Dodger catcher, so far it’s been more high jinks than voodoo. When last seen, the jinx was disappearing over the center field wall.