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By Christopher Witflee
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Opening Day, which spoke volumes to the traditions of the Reds, said much less to their chances of becoming a playoff club. Not to say the Reds won't beat up on bad pitching and win a lot of games this year, but the events of April 3 demonstrated they can give away about as many runs as they score.
All the elements were in place for an auspicious beginning. In addition to the day's buzzing pageantry, Major League Baseball's scheduling almost was worthy of the traditional Cincinnati Opening Day. After all, no one was awake to see the real openers last week in Tokyo.
The rains in Cincinnati ended long enough for Milwaukee pitcher Steve Woodard to let the Reds into a 3-0 lead. From a baseball standpoint, the moments came from old favorites.
In the first inning, Pokey Reese led off with a walk and scored on a double by Barry Larkin. Two outs later, Dmitri Young drove in Larkin with a single. The Reds were into a quick lead, despite outs by Ken Griffey Jr. and Dante Bichette, the new three-four combo in their order.
If Griffey was more show than go in his Reds debut, he was a fine show. The superstar who hates the spotlight made an intriguing, if unintentional, fashion statement in skin-tight red sleeves, which at once evoked the sleeveless look of Ted Kluszewski while reinforcing the notion that, yes, he really does feel the Reds on his skin, as all of Cincinnati is beginning to feel them again.
The ovations for the younger Griffey were long and loud and, no doubt, there will be many more to come. Monday, the cheers were anticipation. In 10 years, perhaps, they will be recognition of a great career and, in between, they will be for the performances.
The performances were lacking April 3, not entirely through fault of his own. The Reds' half of the fifth inning ended, inexplicably, when Larkin tried to stretch a single into a double with two out and Griffey on deck, even though Larkin had the play in front of him and surely could have judged he was taking the bat out of Griffey's hands. The rain came in the top of the sixth, and Griffey had to pack it in with an 0-for-2 debut.
Larkin could be forgiven for trying to set a tone, because the Reds won't be everything they can be if opponents are confident they will stand still waiting for Griffey to hit one out. Larkin makes a base running mistake so seldom that one assumes he was trying to make a point.
That said, making points has little utility when it requires ignoring the fundamentals of the game. In the second inning, right fielder Dante Bichette made a perfect throw to third base, hitting Aaron Boone on the fly to nail Ken Barker. But that didn't excuse Bichette overthrowing his cut-off man, Reese, in the third inning, allowing a run to score.
Earlier in the third, catcher Eddie Taubensee made a throwing error in a failed attempt to gun down Marquis Grissom trying to steal. So, in one inning, the Reds made two major defensive botches, allowing Milwaukee back into the game. The Reds should have been leading when rain drowned out the game in the sixth inning. Poor defense cost the Reds a win. It's that simple.
Because of a thumb injury to Sean Casey, the Reds actually used a better defensive lineup because Young was forced into first base from the outfield, allowing Michael Tucker to play left field. When Casey comes back, the Reds are looking at major defensive liabilities behind the plate and in left and right field.
Between Taubensee, Young and Bichette, a lot of singles and walks will turn into doubles. That's a huge burden for a shaky pitching staff. Perhaps the three will hit enough to cancel out their defensive shortcomings, but that would require that they really hit a lot.
The summer to come will be a joy for the Reds and, if Griffey is the main reason, he's not the only one. The Reds are observing the 25th anniversary of their 1975 World Championship and the 10th anniversary of their 1990 World Championship. Tony Perez, Marty Brennaman and Sparky Anderson are going to the Hall of Fame. It will be a season of remarkable pomp and excitement. But it's still going to be a baseball season and, in order to prevail, the Reds will have to play baseball.
Speaking of which, long-time Reds observers were dying to find out how the meeting of Brett Tomko and Lou Piniella in Seattle would turn out. So far, it's exactly according to plan. The Mariners sent down Tomko right before the opener. It's reported that he declined to retaliate after Chicago White Sox pitchers hit three Seattle batters in an exhibition game March 31.
And, by the way, Bud Selig's Brewers brought to mind a scheme Major League Baseball talked about a year ago, which would have involved advertising on uniforms. From the script style on the Brewers' jerseys and the familiar style of the "M" on their caps, one wonders if it stands for "Milwaukee" or "Miller High Life," the brewer of which has naming rights on the coming Milwaukee ball park.
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Evidently, NBA scouts aren't too wild about Mateen Cleaves. A lot of people have been saying that. Why else would he have hung around for his senior season at Michigan State?
After leading the Spartans to the NCAA men's basketball championship in every way imaginable, Cleaves has won three Big Ten titles, two Big Ten tournaments, been to two Final Fours, won two Big Ten Player of the Year Awards and the national championship.
We're talking about a winning college basketball player who sprained his ankle in the title game and returned, Willis Reed style, to finish it out. It was Cleaves who made mincemeat of the conventional wisdom, which had it that he couldn't shoot and the Spartans couldn't run with Florida.
And, yet, some voices say Mateen Cleaves isn't an NBA player. So much the worse for the NBA, isn't it?
The college game is in serious trouble. Players are leaving early to turn pro; the NBA is talking about a developmental league, which would entice even more players to ignore the college game; and the NCAA's gumshoes have taken to busting players for the transgressions of their high school days.
But Mateen Cleaves and Michigan State, maybe for the last time, have shown how college basketball works when it works. In particular, the "Flintstones," three players from nearby Flint, Mich., stayed near home and always kept an eye to their home, sticking together to win a championship, playing basketball as no other college team could.
The Rick Pitino style carried on by Florida coach Billy Donovan is a wonder and, perhaps, the day will come when no team can win without it. But the fact that Donovan took a very young Florida team to the championship game induced forgetfulness about Michigan State's superior players and experience. The Spartans took the running game to Florida, broke the press repeatedly and beat the Gators, 89-76, at their own game.
We might never hear again about the Flintstones -- Cleaves, Morris Peterson and Charlie Bell. We might never again hear about a senior-led team winning the national championship.
Or, perhaps, the Spartans signal a new era in college basketball, an era in which major college basketball becomes something more praiseworthy than a minor league for the NBA.
Many college basketball coaches are very worried. They're saying the NBA wants to dominate basketball. But that's the NBA's prerogative. It's in the basketball business.
Colleges ought to not be in the basketball business. Colleges ought to be colleges, which isn't to say they shouldn't have basketball. But it ought to be college basketball played by college kids who happen to play basketball, rather than just basketball players.
