Calling Belle’s Bluff

When Albert Belle was suspected of corking his bat in 1994, some of his Cleveland Indians teammates came to his rescue. Crawling through air conditioning ducts like “Mission: Impossible” agents, they broke into the umpires’ room in Chicago and removed the bat that had been confiscated from Belle.

The next day, the Indians expected a minor dust-up and lots of laughs. Instead, they arrived at the park to find cops taking fingerprints in their manager’s office and the head umpire holding a news conference. Maybe the thieves should have expected a stink. After all, they took a Belle model bat and left a Paul Sorrento model in its place! Until now, it’s been a mystery why anybody would do anything so dumb.

“Our guys tried to find a “clean’ Belle bat, but allof Albert’s bats were corked,” a former Indians front office man explained Tuesday. “It’s unusual to cork ‘em all. But maybe that tells you something about Albert.”

What it tells you is Belle thinks he can get away with almost anything.

He can cork his bats. He can sneak his back foot out of the batter’s box on every pitch. He can deliberately hit a fan or photographer with a thrown ball. He can hurl an obscenity-filled tirade at TV reporter Hannah Storm for doing her job or curse a fan who tries to exchange one of his home run balls for an autographed ball. He can chase kids across other people’s property in his truck because they pulled a Halloween trick on him. Etcetera.

Luckily, baseball is beginning to call the bully’s bluff. It’s taken years of bad behavior for Belle to prove beyond a doubt that he’s earned special treatment and a double standard. Now, finally, he is getting it. The standard currently being applied to Belle is one of extra strictness. Like any stubborn recidivist, he’s forced those in authority to get tough.

The American League office, opposing players and umpires are all sick of Belle. And they’re showing it. Last Friday’s brawl between the Indians and Brewers brought lots of Belle issues to a head. The final result was that, on Monday, AL President Gene Budig suspended Belle for five games for “his action (which) not only threatened injury to an individual but also led to the later disruption of the game.”

Since Belle is on a pace to hit 63 home runs, this suspension -- if upheld on appeal -- ultimately could cost him the biggest record in baseball. Since Belle must appeal to Budig, he’s dead. To understand the punishment, we need to grasp the context. So, let’s return to the scene of the crime.

Belle is one of a whole school of new sluggers who try to intimidate pitchers. They either stand on top of the plate, with their front elbow sometimes in

the strike zone, or else they charge toward the plate as the ball is thrown. Some, such as Jeff Bagwell, Paul O’Neill, Mo Vaughn and Jose Canseco, wear pads on their front elbow as a kind of direct territorial challenge to the pitcher. Vaughn looks like The Mummy.

Most of the crowders and chargers understand the devil’s bargain they’ve accepted. Don Baylor stood on the plate his whole career, hit 338 homers but got plunked 267 times. He never complained unless the pitch was head high. He knew the game: You have to challenge a plate crowder with inside fastballs on almost every at-bat. He’s going to take some in the ribs. It’s part of the balance of the game. Bagwell, for example, has ended each of the past three seasons with a broken wrist. It’s his choice.

Belle, of course, doesn’t accept the bargain. It’s too fair. Like using an all-wood bat. Throw near him and he fights or threatens to fight. In 1992 and 1993, he was suspended for charging the mound to start brawls.

As Belle’s homer totals have escalated from the sublime to the ridiculous, more teams have tired of his glaring attempts to define the terms of engagement. In the past World Series, Belle hit two home runs to the opposite field by diving into the plate to hit perfect low-and-away pitches. On Friday, the Brewers didn’t hide their intentions. In the eighth inning, burly Marshall Boze hit Belle on the shoulder, then moved toward the plate and glared at him.

Instead of a taste of Boze, Belle retaliated when the next batter hit a grounder to second base. Belle drove his forearm into the nose of 5-foot-9, 170-pound Fernando Vina as the second baseman made a tag. Belle was entitled to the right of way, just as runners can bowl over catchers when they have the ball. Still, such a vicious play is far outside the game’s traditions.

The next inning, Belle batted again. Terry Burrows drilled him and stared him down worse than Boze did. Then, something important did not happen. The umpires did not eject Burrows. A star had been hit in consecutive innings. The intent was clear. Yet, by implication, the umps were saying Belle was not aggrieved in either case. The first hit-by-pitch was a mere byproduct of his hitting style. The second hit-by-pitch was proper retaliation for the assault on Vina.

Perhaps Belle is taking his temper control counseling seriously. Or perhaps he prefers that somebody else do his dirty work. Before the next inning, he spoke to pitcher Julian Tavarez, reportedly telling him to hit Mike Matheny. Tavarez threw behind Matheny, who charged the mound. In the 10-minute fracas, Tavarez body slammed umpire Joe Brinkman. Maybe Tavarez couldn’t see who bearhugged him from behind. Maybe he was repaying Brinkman for not ejecting Burrows.

See the happiness that follows Albert everywhere he goes?

If another player had done what Belle did to Vina, he might have been suspended for three games, or none. Belle isn’t another player. He’s the same temper case who was suspended by the AL in 1991, 1992, 1993 and 1994 for totals of six, three, three and seven games. Belle has a history of provoking trouble, causing trouble directly, escalating trouble and inciting others to cause trouble on his behalf. He’s smart, educated and complex; he’s also mad at the world.

The league president’s job is to understand the whole context of a brawl, then administer common-sense justice. In this case, the context was Albert Belle. He doesn’t want you to throw near him. He thinks he should be able to retaliate with impugnity. Naturally, his agent says he’s being picked on.

For once, everybody has treated Belle just as they should. The Brewers pitchers, Brinkman’s crew and Budig all dealt with him correctly. They didn’t let him have his way just because he acted mean and angry. They all called his bluff. The Brewers accepted his challenge and pitched him fast and tight. The Brinkman crew didn’t protect him more than they would any other chronic hot-tempered plate crowder. Budig gave him the boot. If this suspension, or subsequent ones, cost Belle his 61st or 62nd home run, let’s call it baseball justice.