Tuesday, March 07, 2000
Bichette won't waste fortune on wheels
BY PAUL DAUGHERTY
The Cincinnati Enquirer
SARASOTA, Fla. — Fred's VW bug was this awful aqua color, with a muffler that sounded like a 21-gun salute. It had an eight-track tape player jammed underneath the dash. To get the tapes to play, we stuck a matchbook between the tape and the machine, so the cartridge didn't wobble. Without the matches, the Allman Brothers sounded like they were underwater.
When it rained, our legs got wet, on account of the holes in the floorboards. The car was held together by coat hangers and prayer; the rest was duct tape. But in 1974, when we were 16 and gas was 35 cents a gallon, the Bug was the closest thing to absolute independence we'd ever experienced. We could cruise all weekend on two bucks. That, friends, is freedom.
So when I saw the new Bug in the Reds players' parking lot here, I figured a high school kid had taken a wrong turn at the cafeteria. When Dante Bichette told me it was his, I asked him if his agent were Tank Black.
Major leaguers drive nice cars. The parking lot at Ed Smith Stadium looks like Auto Expo 2000. Ken Griffey Jr. drives a black Mercedes that resembles a miniature Batmobile. Barry Larkin steers a black Humvee. I think it eats its young.
Yeah, but it's easy to park
Then there are Bichette's wheels. The Reds latest cleanup hitter owns a car he could stick in his back pocket. I noticed he doesn't park it too close to Larkin's machine. For safety reasons.
“It's easy to park,” Bichette says.
OK. But most guys flip their keys to a clubhouse kid and tell him not to back into a light pole. They don't park their own cars. “It gets great gas mileage,” Bichette says.
That's a good one. Bichette's making more than $6 million this year. That's good gas money. “I've got to be a good steward of our money,” he explains.
Bichette's Bug is distinctive: Silver, with thick black stripes running from front to back, as if another Bug had landed on the bumper and skidded from trunk to hood.
(Distinctive is not a word yet applied to Bichette as a Red. Since Junior's arrival, Dante has been as high profile as beige paint. “I'm not exactly a media hound,” he says.)
“I wanted silver. The only stripes to put on silver would be black. I wanted it a little more macho,” explains Bichette. “I mean, it's a VW Bug, you know?”
It's also a Turbo, Bichette reminds, meaning it doesn't take several days to get up to ramming speed, the way Fred's did. “Number one in the crash tests. Handles real well. It's easy to ship to whatever city I'm playing in.”
Reliable cleanup hitter
Is there something different about this guy? Recently, the Reds have lived hand-to-mouth with cleanup hitters: A rejuvenated Eric Davis, a recycled Ron Gant, a round Kevin Mitchell. The only sure thing was Greg Vaughn, and he lasted no longer than the rest. (All the aforementioned drove big and/or fast cars. Pouring Mitchell into a Bug would be funnier than Chris Rock.)
Bichette, though, maybe he's around a few years. If you can judge a man by the car he drives — and you can — Dante is on the good side of sensible. He also has a little to prove. Namely, that he isn't a creation of Coors Field.
He drove in 133 runs with the Rockies last year, a vast majority in the rare Denver air. That has been his pattern. “It's a funky place to play,” Bichette says. He blames the home-road difference on breaking balls. The Denver air robbed breakers of their break. “On the road, they fall off the table.” It also became mental for everyone.
“We'd press on the road, thinking we'd have to hit a home run every time up. I always knew I'd hit at home. Nobody ever questioned me there. I'm hoping to even it up. Not as much at home, a little more on the road,” Bichette says, and indeed, he has hit well at Cinergy Field.
Regardless, our anonymous little cleanup hitter won't be hard to find. He'll be the one folding his car into his wallet after home games.
Columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at 768-8454.
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