Small Sphere of Influence

David Eckstein can feel it in his hands.

His small grip usually requires three fingers to clutch a baseball.

He can grab the World Series ball with two.

“It’s smaller, it’s harder, it’s definitely different,” said the Angel shortstop.

Tim Worrell can feel it with his eyes closed.

After Monday’s workout, the San Francisco Giant pitcher put his hands behind his back and asked teammate Jason Schmidt to fill them with a regular ball and a World Series ball, in no particular order.

“I could pick out the World Series ball right away,” Worrell said. “It was harder.”

Troy Percival is worried he is going to feel it on his head.

“I don’t want to tarnish anything that is going on,” said the Angel reliever. “But we’re talking about guys working 60 feet away from the plate, and a ball like that flying back at you ... what happened this year to [Kazuhisa] Ishii wasn’t anything to what could happen now.”

Just when you thought this World Series couldn’t get any juicier, players from both teams showed up Monday calling for drug testing.

Of the ball.

Players claim the World Series ball is smaller and harder than the regular-season ball, thus allowing it to fly farther.

Players claim that the four homers hit in the sixth inning or later in Edison Field’s heavy night air -- with the exception of Barry Bonds’ blast -- might not be a coincidence.

Players could be paranoid after Sunday’s 11-10 Angel victory. Or weary after the teams tied a Series record by using 11 pitchers in that game. Or just plain bored on their first day in Cold-And-Dirty By The Bay.

But most of them are convinced. And many of them are convincing.

“Because my hands are small, the size of the ball is very important to me, I notice even the slightest difference, and there is a big difference here,” said Eckstein.

He said the Angels use similar balls for infield drills, slightly defective balls that are actually marked, “Practice.”

“I’m always rooting my hands around in the bag, looking for the game balls instead of the practice balls, so I can feel which is which,” he said. “We are playing with practice balls.”

Several Giants said they noticed the difference during a pregame autograph session.

“The World Series ball is definitely tighter, I can tell by just signing it,” said Giant pitcher Chad Zerbe.

The players say they don’t care, because the ball is the same for both teams.

But they quietly wonder if they haven’t become pawns in baseball’s effort to pander to offensive-minded fans.

“It’s not a big deal, it’s just the way it is,” said Angel reliever Ben Weber. “People love offense, and maybe baseball just wants to give them what they want.”

Baseball denied any hint of scandal, with Sandy Alderson, executive vice president, explaining that the 500 dozen stamped World Series balls underwent the same rigorous tests as other balls.

“We might do a couple of spot checks, but we have no reason to believe there is anything different about these balls,” Alderson said.

The Angels were so curious, they did their own spot check. Rather, it was a spot dissection.

During the middle of Sunday night’s game, inactive reliever Al Levine walked into the clubhouse and sliced up two balls with what he said was a Ginsu knife.

We’re not making this up.

“Everybody on the team had been talking about it, so I just had to see for myself,” he said with a grin. “I had nothing else to do, and I had gotten tired of yelling.”

As the Angels and Giants were pounding out 28 hits, Levine was carving up one World Series ball and one regular ball and dumping their insides on the table.

“The World Series ball was harder to cut,” Levine said. “And inside, the core of the World Series ball was harder when you felt it.”

One by one, the Angels stopped by the clubhouse table and felt the insides of the balls.

One by one, most of them agreed.

“If you ask a simple question -- is the World Series ball harder? The answer is yes,” said Percival.

This being a heavyweight title fight, with everyone wondering if someone is trying to gain an emotional edge, not everyone agrees.

Said Giant first baseman J.T. Snow: “Would they be saying that stuff if the score hadn’t been 11-10?”

Added teammate Jeff Kent: “Maybe we should check and see if they are corking that [Francisco] Rodriguez kid’s arm.”

Accompanying Monday’s accusations were some laughs and nudged ribs and raised eyebrows, but the issue is larger than any inflated fly ball.

It’s not about baseballs, it’s about baseball.

Even its own players, on its biggest stage, don’t trust it anymore.

Can you imagine an NFL player slicing up a football at halftime of the Super Bowl? Or an NBA team stopping a Finals game to announce the results of an officiating investigation?

Only in baseball, still reeling after a year of contraction and labor problems, would the game’s most charming moments be riddled with conspiracy theories.

Pssst. Bud Selig ruined memories of last year’s classic World Series with his quick contraction talk, so he’s trying to create another classic.

Shhhh. Worried that nobody east of Las Vegas would watch two California teams, baseball is trying to produce must-see TV.

Alderson, the baseball boss, heard this and blanched.

“I guess I’m just glad we’re not talking about the umpiring,” he said.

Levine, the investigator, heard this and shrugged.

“Hey, whatever is good for baseball, that’s fine with me,” he said.

Kent heard everything and laughed.

“Excuse me,” he said, leaving his locker. “I’ve got to run down and get my steroids shot.”

To which hardened baseball fans, here in the middle of a splendidly knotted series between two old-fashioned teams, would undoubtedly respond:

Really?

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com.