Monday, October 04, 1999

Nothing's easy for Reds

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BY PAUL DAUGHERTY
The Cincinnati Enquirer

Barry Larkin, Sean Casey and Eddie Taubensee celebrate after the game. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

        MILWAUKEE — The dog soldiers of the postseason wannabes are still gnawing on Baseball's pant leg after 162 games.

        The Reds are like Ike and Tina Turner's version of “Proud Mary.” They never do nothin' nice and smooth. They do it nice. And rough.

        They will play the New York Mets at Cinergy Field tonight in Game 163. If ever a team was destined to play in more games than the established norm, it was this one.

        They beat the Brewers here Sunday night. The Reds won in anonymity, after midnight, in a game that under normal condi tions would have been postponed. They won on a field suitable for fly-fishing.

        After a day of steady rain, the water was ankle deep in the outfield. The outfield was a water park, a nature preserve, a duck pond. It rained more here Sunday than it did in the Tristate the entire month of September. The Reds didn't need Michael Tucker in center field. They needed Mark Spitz.

        The Reds outfielders would have had an easier time than the Brewers, but their equipment guys forgot to pack the boogie boards.

        After spending nearly nine hours in the claustrophobic and spartan visitors' clubhouse, watching the Mets and the Astros and bumping into each other, they went out and won a

        ballgame they had to win. Today, they'll try to beat the Mets with Steve Parris, an 11-game winner who started the season in Triple A.

        Which is perfect. Parris has been the most consistent pitcher for a team that hasn't lost more than three in a row all year. Parris doesn't overheat the radar gun. He doesn't talk much. When he's not pitching, you barely know he's around.

        But the Reds have been in nearly every game he has pitched. Parris has given nothing away. He is a 31-year-old ham-and-egger, whose grasp has exceeded his reach. Sounds familiar.

        After the Mets won Sunday afternoon, they spilled onto the field like they'd hit a number and won the World Series. The Mets are loud and wealthy and dysfunctional. Their $62 million payroll is among baseball's highest.

        The Reds bust bricks. They've won with Greg Vaughn and intangibles and Ron Villone. No one else ever won with Ron Villone. When you ask Barry Larkin who should be the Reds MVP, he says, “Of the week, of the day? The month?”

        Everybody has contributed. Everyone has helped.

        You know the nation has its eye on these Reds, the small-market kids with the dirty faces. It's an aberration they're still playing; $33 million doesn't buy what it used to. But it gives hope to stray dogs, underdogs and the Pittsburgh Pirates.

        You didn't know what to expect from them Sunday night. Pete Harnisch's achy-breaky shoulder would not enjoy the 45-degree game-time temperature. The Reds had lost three in a row. They'd stayed in their clubhouse long enough to know both the Mets and Astros had won.

        The ridiculous rain delay only added to the anxiety.

        As it turned out, none of it mattered. The steady rain kept the Reds from taking batting practice before the game. They took it during the game instead, against Milwaukee starter Cal Eldred. Five straight hits in the third inning ended with Greg Vaughn's three-run homer to left center field. That made it 5-0. The Reds skated home from there, literally and otherwise.

        So here we go. One more must-win game, in a season of them. The last week has seemed to last a year, each game more important than the last. October baseball is baseball on the ledge. The Reds were supposed to have taken a header a long time ago.

        But here they are. One more time, teeth in Baseball's pant leg. Think of it as the ultimate in regular season extra innings.

        The Reds left Milwaukee in the wee hours Monday. Meanwhile, the Mets were snug in their Cincinnati hotel rooms, watching the Reds on TV. Never nothin' nice and smooth, no.

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

       

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