Trying to Praise a Mouse, Somehow He Smells a Rat

So I called Mike’s office and got his secretary, told her I wanted to congratulate the big cheese on making the Angels a playoff team by quashing the preseason trade of Darin Erstad, and I’d wait on the phone while she got Mike.

Right away I got a rebuke from this exasperated lady, who said if I wanted to talk with Michael Eisner, I should never call him at his office.

I wasn’t surprised, of course, because if you call sports editor Bill Dwyre, you don’t call him at the office, you call him on his cell. And usually he’ll stop playing golf long enough to chat. So I offered the secretary Dwyre’s cell number in exchange for Eisner’s.

“You’ll need to go through Xena,” the exasperated lady said, and while I had no idea the “Warrior Princess” had become a bouncer for Disney, it could have been worse: She could have transferred me to Goofy or the Ducks’ general manager.

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I JUST wanted to congratulate Mike on making a good decision. It’s probably been years since that happened based on how Disney stock is doing. I also thought praise had been misplaced a few days ago when one of our reporters gushed about the expertise of GM Bill Stoneman--when it was Mike who saved the team.

Stoneman is the whiz who had a handshake agreement to trade Erstad, the Angels’ heart and soul, to the White Sox for a bunch of stiffs. He’d have ruined the Angels’ year, but according to news reports at the time, Mike canceled the deal.

I know you wouldn’t expect a good decision from someone who gave the approval for California Adventure, but if I’m going to go out of my way to criticize, then I should do the same to congratulate. I told that to Mike’s secretary, and she acted as if she couldn’t wait to get rid of me.

“Did we ever date in college?” I said, but I’m not sure she heard me, because she had already transferred me to the Warrior Princess.

“Hi, this is Paul,” and let me guess, if you want to talk to Xena, you should never call her office.

I explained to Paul that I was on a mission to praise Mike for keeping Erstad and Paul said, “Who is Erstad?”

“A Disney employee like yourself,” I said.

“There are only a couple of hundred thousand Disney employees,” Paul huffed. “This is corporate communications; I don’t know who you are talking about.”

I would imagine corporate communications at Disney has to be a tough job when you’re trying to communicate with people, and it is company policy you can’t contact the person you want to communicate with in their office.

“You are not allowed to call Eisner directly; you have to go through Xena,” Paul said, and I was surprised how committed Disney is about promoting the Warrior Princess. You would think if Disney put that much effort into some of its own ABC-TV shows, someone might watch them.

Paul said he’d tell Xena I called; he promised he’d get back to me before the end of the day. It’s almost midnight, and I fear now the evil Mephistopheles waylaid Paul and I’ll never hear from Xena. Or, Paul just fibbed about getting back to me.

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I CALLED Michael Ovitz’s office to see if he had an old cell phone number for Eisner, but for some reason he never called back.

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I CALLED Tim Mead, the Angels’ vice president in charge of something or other, and asked for Eisner’s cell phone number and he laughed. He said he would get back to me. I told him to look out for Mephistopheles.

He called back. He said when the Angels considered trading Erstad to Chicago, there was a meeting, and Disney lieutenant Paul Pressler asked everyone to rethink their position. As a result, the trade didn’t take place.

“It never went as far as [Eisner],” Mead said.

And all this time I thought Mike had made a good decision--only to discover now it still hasn’t happened. Maybe that’s why Paul didn’t call back; he already knew Mike was incapable of making a good decision.

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THERE WAS a note attached to my clothes when I picked them up: “Best wishes from your friends at Norton’s Cleaners.” Inside I found a crimson and gold “SC” sticker for my car. And they said they were my friends.

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ESPN MAGAZINE reporter Tom Friend wrote about USC running back Justin Fargas’ admiration for O.J. Simpson recently. Fargas, expected to see considerable playing time against Oregon State, called Simpson and asked if he could wear No. 32 in his honor. I’d have probably wanted to ask Simpson one more question.

Fargas got Simpson’s approval, and then went to Coach Pete Carroll, who said, “Can’t you wear Marcus Allen’s [33] instead?” Fargas is presently wearing No. 25.

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ROCKY TALAVERA brought his 1-year-old daughter, Mary, to Dodger Stadium for the first time in her life, and Dad did good, getting Tom Lasorda to pose for a picture with his child to commemorate the occasion. I imagine this will also be the youngster’s first recollection of sitting in Santa’s lap.

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THE DODGERS played Wednesday night, but if they’ve given up, I’ve given up. Before the game they delivered their concession speech with the release of their 2003 schedule. How much clearer can they make it? Just wait until next year.

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TODAY’S LAST word comes in e-mail from E.S.:

“Next Tuesday Mike Garrett will be the guest speaker at the Glendale YMCA Quarterback Club. How awesome would it be if you showed up and asked him a question? The place would be in absolute shock.”

And when Garrett goes running and screaming from the room, who takes his place as speaker?

T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com