Offerman Subtraction Is Addition

I have five words for the Dodgers about their benching of Jose Offerman.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

And thank you. Maybe there is hope for this team.

All you need to know about Offerman’s dedication to the Dodgers can be learned from the shortstop’s reaction to his demotion. He didn’t say, “I’ll do whatever it takes to help this team win.” No, instead he insulted Tom Lasorda, making his 36th--and perhaps final--error of the season.

Offerman said of being removed from the Dodger lineup, “When you have a manager like this guy, you can never be safe.”

No. No way, Jose.

When you have a shortstop like this guy, a team can never be safe.

Thirty-five errors. Thirty-five errors by Sept. 1 can be tolerable . . . for a rookie. But not for someone brought up by the Dodgers as far back as 1990. Not for someone at the core of the Dodger defense.

For months--no, years--the Dodgers and the Baltimore Orioles have shared the same predicament: when they should take their shortstop out of the lineup.

Cal Ripken, they couldn’t take out.

Jose Offerman, they wouldn’t.

I kept wondering how long veteran baseball men such as Lasorda or Fred Claire (or Peter O’Malley) would sit there watching balls go through Offerman like the Roadrunner through a tunnel. They have never been shy about making replacements. Billy Ashley got yanked out of left field so fast, it was like a vaudeville hook.

All along, I thought Ashley was much less dangerous to the Dodgers than their shortstop was.

Perhaps when that shortstop was hitting .320 and making the All-Star squad, you could overlook an error or two. But not when he’s at .286 and it’s September and your team is losing one-run games. Not when the new shortstop is above .290 and outhustling Offerman and energizing the whole club.

This isn’t a popularity contest. This is a pennant race. Too many of the Dodgers still don’t seem to comprehend that. They put personal feelings ahead of a team need at third base. Offerman puts personal feelings ahead of a decision by his manager.

Grow . . . up.

Offerman acts as though he is Ozzie Smith or something. Let me tell you something. The only Gold Gloves this guy will ever win is if he decides to become an amateur boxer.

“Right now, I’m mad more than anything,” Offerman said after being benched, in what is easily Lasorda’s best move of 1995.

Good. Now he knows how we feel. Now he knows how his pitchers feel, when they go out there and pitch their hearts out, only to lose the game because of awful Offy, taking a nap on a routine grounder or forgetting to cover second base.

Offerman has more than twice as many errors as Cincinnati’s entire double-play combination of Barry Larkin and Bret Boone. And this is a team Los Angeles very well could face in the playoffs.

Going into this season, Offerman’s lifetime average was .246. He has, through today’s action, a career total of eight home runs.

OK, so shortstops are runners, not sluggers. Offerman this season has two stolen bases.

Lasorda is always carrying on about “five-point” ballplayers. 1. He can run. 2. He can catch. 3. He can throw. 4. He can hit for average. 5. He can hit with power.

Jose can throw.

Through the All-Star break, it appeared Offerman might have finally developed into a two-point player. (Raul Mondesi is a five.) The shortstop’s batting average was so sweet, the Dodgers batted him leadoff or second.

He was the anti-Mark Belanger, the anti-Marty Marion. A shortstop who could hit, but not field; what a concept.

Dodger executives urged everyone to be patient. Well, compared to some of us, Job from the Old Testament was a nervous wreck. We waited and waited on Offerman, but he had the fundamentals of a Bad News Bear.

To the very end, Offerman isn’t offering himself for the team. Offerman is in this strictly for Offerman.

Do something for the Dodgers for a change, pal. Take a seat.