BY PAUL DAUGHERTY
The Cincinnati Enquirer

The 1998 Cincinnati Reds have a chance to be not too good. The young players they're counting on may or may not be major-leaguers. No one knows how long Reggie Sanders will stay on the abled list. And heaven help a starting pitching staff hoping for big things from Pete Harnisch or Steve Cooke.

One publication already has determined the Reds are not as capable as either of the two expansion teams, Tampa Bay and Arizona. The Reds don't have a stadium deal. The Reds face the frightening prospect of Marge Schott returning from Elba in November. Also, the Reds are broke.

You will love them anyway.

If you are true to your baseball beliefs, you will cheer their every rug burn. The whole season will be a headfirst slide. Think of 25 Chris Sabos.

The stories have filtered in from the Reds caravan. The caravan, revived last year after a several-year absence, is a promotional drudge through the heartland in the dead of winter. It is a necessity for regional teams such as the Reds. It is a few weeks of bus rides, rubber chicken and forced enthusiasm. Veteran players would rather carry their own suitcases than ride the caravan.

This year was different. Jon Nunnally, the outfielder, said he enjoyed it. ''The bus was really nice,'' he allowed.

At one stop, Eduardo Perez left a gathering long enough to visit the offices of the insurance company that sponsored the caravan. He shook hands with the employees.

''Hi, I'm Eduardo Perez. Nice to meet you,'' he said. He really did.

Anything you want

Here is Nunnally, on his responsibility to the fans and the Reds organization:

''If they ask me to do something, I'll do it. I feel obligated to do it. I'll take time to sign autographs. I like meeting the fans. I do it all the time. I'm a young player. What would I have looked like, saying no?''

For the record, Nunnally also refers to coach and hitting instructor Ken Griffey as ''Mr. Griffey.''

''I'm very grateful for the time Mr. Griffey spent with me last year,'' Mr. Nunnally said Friday.

The Reds made 20 caravan stops. In one stretch, they visited 13 cities in six days. The players were paid $100 a day. Not once did they ask for appearance fees or a bus upgrade. It was a really nice bus.

They are who you say you want. They are who you asked for. They play hard. They're eager to please. They don't make lots of money. Relatively speaking. They sign autographs.

''All day,'' Nunnally said.

The '98 Reds seem intent on undoing at least a decade's worth of hard work put in by their peers. An image of greedy, arrogant adolescents is not formed overnight. It takes time.

Good-looking faces

The Reds are still Barry Larkin's team. Until he is no longer there, they always will be. But their face is changing. It looks like Nunnally. If fans are true to their desires, they will like this new face, win or lose. They'll like it a lot.

''They seem to understand the emotional tie they need to build with the fans'' is how Reds marketing director Cal Levy put it.

The Reds would like to be who the Pittsburgh Pirates were last year. They want to be a group of young, happy-to-be-heres. Continuing what interim CEO John Allen has started, they want you to love them. A fan-friendly baseball team comes as a shock to most of us. But the Reds are ready to give it a try.

They're good people. If that counts for anything.

It will be a difficult year. The Reds are doing now what should have been done two years ago. Rather than plug leaks with questionable veterans-with-attitudes (Vince Coleman, Ruben Sierra), the Reds are renovating with fresh faces, to whom your opinion matters.

They showed up at each caravan stop with one request: ''Just tell us what you want us to do.'' Strange occurrence, this. Also, happy.

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Enquirer columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at 768-8454.

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