His Next Shower Will Be in the Fountain of Youth

Let me explain why I was so intent on talking to someone my own age Saturday night, someone who could relate to the best, bygone days of his own life, and why it brought me to Steve Finley.

The daughter who married the Grocery Store Bagger is about one month away from coughing up the watermelon she apparently swallowed whole, and so to celebrate her being skinny once again, the wife and Miss Radio Personality threw a party for her Saturday.

I spent much of my adult life telling the daughter she’d better not get pregnant, and now people want to celebrate, staging something called a shower. Instead of playing pin the tail on the donkey -- I presume because the Bagger wasn’t there -- they were going to pass around bottles of baby food with the labels peeled off and try to guess which bottle of green mush was the peas as opposed to the beans. No wonder babies are always spitting up.

Picture 30 women coming to your home, taking up residence in your living room and all talking at the same time. I did, and so I was gone by the time the jabbering herd arrived -- thankful only that it forced the wife to clean the house. Can’t wait until the daughter gets pregnant again.

Now several old people I know, beginning with Dwyre, claim I will be excited by the arrival of whatever the daughter has inside her. I remain unconvinced. That’s my daughter, my youngest kid, and I kind of liked the way she was before she took such a fancy to Winnie the Pooh.

Every time someone new comes into her life, it’s one more reminder she’s not a kid anymore. And I don’t like it. It started with you know who, and he just won’t go away, or apparently leave her alone because in another month she’s going to have someone else hanging around her all the time. I kind of liked it when she would just hang around me.

Anyway, I stopped by the shower after all the women had left to see how the daughter was doing. She showed me the heated baby wipes someone had given her. If I know the Bagger, they’ll all be gone by the time the kid arrives.

Bubba III, the wife’s brother, and his wife had flown in from Chicago with Cubs’ baby clothes for the daughter’s watermelon. I guess they think the kid is going to be a real loser.

The daughter also got a “boppo,” a “jumperoo” and the Kate Spade $350 diaper bag that Miss Radio Personality picked out for her. I wonder why I’m still giving Miss Radio Personality an allowance.

Maybe it was the stack of gifts, or the punch they had been drinking, but when I walked into the room everyone started referring to me as “Grandpa,” like I’m even old enough to qualify.

Then the daughter handed me a paper bag, decorated by Dwyre’s wife, with such uplifting notes attached as: “How come everybody’s always mad at grandpa” and “I just want grandma to baby-sit. Grandpa is weird” and “Thank God I have a role model in Bill Dwyre.” I’m sure people warned the woman when she got married to Dwyre that one day she’d wind up being a bag lady.

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I DON’T imagine most people think they will ever get old, but that’s why I went to Angel Stadium to check with Finley. As you know, Finley is old, in fact ancient by baseball standards. I’m sure some of the other players in the clubhouse would have no problems calling him “grandpa.”

“I know there are a lot of guys in here who haven’t seen me play, haven’t seen me when I played good,” Finley conceded.

Finley and I go way back to last year when I thought he was finished. He played like a kid, though, delivering the biggest hit of the year for the Dodgers, and then signed a big contract with the Angels. Now he’s begun life after 40 ... hitting .203.

“I feel great. I’m not taking any new vitamins, I’m not sore when I wake up, I’m just the same old, same old,” the same old Finley said. “It’s more mechanical than physical, and I know at some point I’m going to start hitting.”

That’s when Manager Mike Scioscia interrupted Finley to tell me, “Get him mad, tick him off” -- and I’d never dream of kicking an old dog, but now that I’ve been asked ...

“Listen, you old geezer,” I told Finley, “I know what it’s like to be old, to have everyone call you ‘Grandpa,’ and be the oldest guy in the room -- so long as Dwyre has gone home. I don’t like it, but it appears I’m going to have no choice now, and so I’m intent on becoming the best grandpa I can be.

“You might want to do the same, and become the best-hitting senior citizen in baseball, starting tonight since you don’t have much time left.”

Finley then went out and doubled home two runs in the third and hit a sacrifice fly later, a big lift for the offensively challenged team, although a younger man would have probably hit those balls out of the park.

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THE INDIANAPOLIS 500 has an attractive woman driving one of the cars today, and she’s expected to attract a large TV audience. Too bad the WNBA hasn’t thought of doing the same thing.

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CBS.SPORTSLINE.COM had three of its NBA experts do a mock draft. Two of them had the Lakers selecting North Carolina point guard Raymond Felton; the third had them picking Pittsburgh center Chris Taft. Taft has been criticized repeatedly for his work ethic, which suggests he’d be the player best prepared to deal with Kobe Bryant on a daily basis.

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TODAY’S LAST word comes in e-mail from Jeff Wald:

“I read with great interest your column regarding the state of the boxing business. As a creator and co-executive producer of the NBC show, ‘The Contender,’ I beg to differ with you. We did a boxing event on NBC Tuesday night that drew 11,700,000 viewers and finished second in the 18-to-34 demographics only to American Idol. The fight sold out the 4,100 seats.”

And NBC canceled the show.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at

t.j.simers@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.