Maybe this is a shot in the arm

IN MY continuing quest to do nothing but help the Dodgers, I went to Juan Pierre before Wednesday’s game to ask him if he’s ever considered getting an arm transplant.

Just think how good Pierre might be if he really could play this game.

Before I could ask the question, Pierre told me it was time to go work on the field. It was only 3:50 p.m., and nobody on the Dodgers works that early, so I was impressed. I asked if we might talk when he was done, but I got the impression from the look on his face that he now has plans to work the rest of his life.

I gave him a few minutes and then checked to see what he was working on. He was sitting on the bench. Nice to see, that the guy the Dodgers signed for five years and $44 million, was working on his future position with the team.

I asked why he had lied? and he said, “You come at me like you know me,” and “I do,” I said. “You’re the guy who has been such a huge disappointment this season, and I was wondering, have you ever considered getting an arm transplant?”

“Go ahead and rip on me,” Pierre said, and for a minute there I thought he had me confused with the team surgeon.

“I’M HAPPY with what God gave me,” Pierre said, which was a lie, because when I asked him if he wished he had a stronger arm, he said, “yes, I do.”

The interview didn’t seem to be going very well. I guess the guy can’t do anything right. I asked him about his woeful on base percentage, his shaky play in centerfield and he said, “I don’t know nothing about nothing.

“Let’s have this interview in September,” Pierre said, and for a guy so eager to hide from me minutes earlier, I said, “Now you want to make a date with me?”

I didn’t get even a hint of a smile because he had already made it clear, “I don’t know nothing about nothing,” and he seemed pretty determined to prove that.

He concluded, “nice talking to you,” and I said, “no reason to lie again,” and turned to leave only to hear Dodger Coach Mariano Duncan say something. When I asked about it, he began yelling, “Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ.”

I get this a lot, of course, but told Duncan, “No, it’s T.J. Just call me, T.J.”

“Jesus Christ,” Duncan shouted and he seemed to be very upset, I said, “I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but T.J. will do.”

“Just get out of my face,” Duncan yelled, and I wasn’t anywhere near him. “Go ahead and bury me in the paper. Only in America. What a great country. Make my day.”

In his own high school coaching way, of course, Duncan was trying to deflect attention away from a disappointing Pierre. If only Duncan could stand in center alongside Pierre and throw the ball for him after Pierre catches it.

“Go take a hike,” Duncan yelled, and a minute ago he was asking me to get him in the paper. These Dodgers sure seem confused at times.

“God bless you, Jesus Christ,” Duncan yelled, and I’m not surprised the Dodgers are counting on a miracle to get more out of Pierre.

Pierre, who is hitting .270, leads the Dodgers in hits and outs made. His on base percentage sits near .300, which is the lowest among Dodger starters. And that’s not good when your primary job is to get on base. I asked him about what he might do to improve it, and he said, “I don’t know.” I think he was telling me the truth this time.

A year ago the Dodgers got by with Kenny Lofton in center, not much arm but a cannon in comparison to Pierre, and a .301 batting average along with an on base percentage of .360. They paid Lofton $3.85 million, and are now paying Pierre almost $9 million a year. The salary appears to be the only upgrade to date.

Hasn’t Pierre been a huge disappointment to date?

“Juan’s got himself in a good position to get hot,” said Manager Grady Little, which was his way of saying, there’s no where to go now for Pierre, but to improve, and I sure hope that doesn’t mean Duncan starts yelling at Little.

IN THE fifth inning, third base umpire Sam Holbrook failed an eye test, ruling a ball hit by Russell Martin was a home run. Replays and the other umps confirmed the ball was foul and the homer was taken away.

Carlos Villanueva threw the next pitch over Martin’s head, and one pitch later Martin walked. Duncan, the Dodgers’ first base coach, began yelling toward the Brewers’ dugout because that’s what he does best. Some of you remember him playing, so you know what I mean.

First baseman Prince Fielder stepped in, and reading Duncan’s lips from my vantage point in the press box, I’m pretty sure he was yelling, “Jesus Christ,” while Fielder was saying, “No, it’s Prince.”

THE CALIFORNIA Speedway has a commercial in the works that shows a chicken trying to cross the track and the narrator asking, “why did the chicken cross the road? A) To get to the other side? B) To run from the Grizzly bear? C) It didn’t,” while showing two cars running over it and leaving behind nothing but feathers.

“Don’t be a chicken,” the narrator concludes. “Come see NASCAR on Sept. 2.”

No one is saying it, but I suspect Skippy the Squirel’s ill-fated attempt to get across the I-5 about the same time that Barbaro became a pile of ashes, was the inspiration for the commercial. It’s nice to know something good resulted from Skippy’s unfortunate demise.

BY NOW you have heard about a death-row prisoner who said, “Go Raiders” in his final moments after receiving a lethal injection. But the thing you might not know is the guy convinced the courts in Arizona that he had the right to be executed, presumably rather than watch the Raiders play again.

TODAY’S LAST word comes in e-mail from Chris W:

“Let me start by saying how ridiculous it sounds to call you, T.J. Using stupid initials instead of using your first name doesn’t earn you any kind of respect...”

I see what you mean, Chris W.

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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.