<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8702170708
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
871008
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Thursday, October 08, 1987
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL CHASER
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1987, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
FAMILIAR NIGHTMARE: HERNANDEZ ON MOUND
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
MINNEAPOLIS -- And then, the nightmare walked out of the bullpen. The
score was tied, 5-5, the bases full of Minnesota Twins, the Metrodome simply
insane, gone, roaring with so much noise it bounced  off the bubble roof and
back onto the heads of 53,269 screaming fans. Intimidating? A man of wood
might have been rattled. And Willie Hernandez, flesh and blood, hasn't needed
any help getting rattled  lately.

  As he walked to the mound with one out in the eighth Wednesday night, you
could almost hear the squeals of delight among the sellout crowd here. Perhaps
the fans  knew that Hernandez in crucial  situations lately has been about
effective for the Tigers as pulling down their pants.

  And sad to report, he did not disappoint.
  First he surrendered a single to pinch hitter Don Baylor, a sharp  drive to
left that scored a run. Twins 6, Tigers 5. Then, pitching to Tom Brunansky, he
fell behind in the count, 3-1. And then, goodby. A line drive to left center
that scooted all the way to the wall.  The Twins were circling the bases, the
game was being lost, and no doubt TV sets all over the Detroit area were being
abused in ways unfair even to major appliances.
  "Thanks, Willie," the Tigers  fans said.
  Well. Maybe they didn't use those words.
  Twins take Round 1. They caught the Tigers in the one area in which they
are truly soft: relief pitching. Let it be noted that it was not  just
Hernandez who blew this 8-5 game in the opener of the American League
playoffs. Mike Henneman was the first to relieve Doyle Alexander in that
eighth inning, and Henneman gave up two walks: one  intentional to Kent Hrbek,
the other accidental to Gary Gaetti. "And don't forget, we had our chances the
inning before," Alexander would add, referring to a bases-loaded, no-out
seventh that produced  just one run.
  All that is true. But this morning, Tigers fans are likely seeing one scene
over and over, before punching the walls: that of Hernandez surrendering
bases-loaded hits that scored the winning runs. Not too long ago in Toronto,
he gave the same kind of performance.
  And to think, we had almost forgotten it.
  "I still have my confidence," Hernandez repeated over and over, sitting  at
a small table in the middle of the Tigers' clubhouse. "I'm struggling.  . . .
But if I go out there scared, I might as well go home."
  Oooh. Talk about a set-up line.
  OK. Let's be fair-minded  for a minute here. That seventh inning should
have put this thing away. The Tigers opened with three singles, and wound up
with just one run. Tom Brookens struck out. Lou Whitaker grounded into a
fielder's  choice. Bill Madlock bounced to the pitcher. You can't miss chances
like that and expect to win -- especially in a visitors' house of horrors like
the Metrodome.
  And yet the Tigers had a 5-4 lead  entering that fateful bottom of the
eighth. You can second-guess what should have happened all day. But the lead
was real. All it needed was protecting.
  No go.
  What is it with Hernandez? He has  blown six straight relief
opportunities.  His last save was a month ago.  He hasn't retired a batter in
his last three appearances.  Why does Anderson go to him? Well. Partly because
he has little  choice when it comes to lefty relievers. There's Willie, Mark
Thurmond and nobody. Maybe he hopes that this time will be the time Hernandez
starts throwing like the old days, instead of the old daze.
  "Did your bullpen let you down?" an out-of-town reporter asked Anderson
after the loss.
  "The Twins beat us," he said.
  "Are you going to have to stop using Hernandez?"
  "I don't talk about  my players."
  Good teams' players circle around one another when a game is lost. So no
surprise that the Tigers players were hesitant to talk against the bullpen
after the defeat. They rightly accepted this as a team loss, promised they
would be back, and left it at that. "This is not the time to be critical of
teammates," said Alan Trammell. "I know what everybody wants to hear, but I'm
not gonna  say it."
  That's OK, Alan. Everyone back home is saying it for you.
  But all right. This is one loss; you don't have to go home until you lose
four, and the Tigers still have to be considered favorites  in this series.
True, Doyle Alexander took his first loss as a Tiger ("If you'd told me before
the game eight runs would be scored on a night Doyle pitched, I'd have said no
way," Tramell admitted),  but that was almost inevitable. You can't win every
time out. Alexander did not throw terribly. He just got certain pitches too
high.
  Take that, and then consider the circumstances. When the Tigers  wake up
this morning, no doubt it will be with a ringing in their ears. This place is
a concrete cave, a rock-concert frenzy hidden inside a baseball game. Is it
the national pastime, or the Stones tour?  After every Twins home run, a Star
Wars theme blasts over the loudspeakers as if the ships were landing on the
infield.
  That kind of noise, the funny lights, and the configuration of the stadium
("Gary Gaetti's two home runs would have been outs at Tiger Stadium,"
Alexander said afterward) let you know why the Twins have been so successful
here this year.  
  Alexander: "We came in here looking  for a split. We can still do that. And
even if we don't, it's no catastrophe."
  One loss is one loss. No more. No less.  The encouraging part is that the
Tigers generally treat defeat like a ketchup  stain on a nice shirt. Oops.
Well. What are you gonna do? They change the shirt and start clean. Do not
look for residual effects of losing to Minnesota in the Metrodome. It is not
that unusual.
  More significant may be the effect on Minnesota. This team's only hope is
to get on a winning roll too powerful to be stopped. Winning a second game
tonight could bloat them with their power under a  roof, and, of course, even
if the Tigers won in Detroit, the series would have to end here. But that is
conjecture -- something you fall into easily in the playoffs. Jack Morris is
pitching for the Tigers  tonight. And he is 8-0 in this stadium. 
  And hopefully, he won't need any relief pitching.
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<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
COLUMN;REACTION;DTIGERS;PITCHING;PITCHER;CRITICISM;WILLIE
HERNANDEZ;GAME;RESULT;LOSS;PLAYOFF;BASEBALL;Detroit Tigers
</KEYWORDS>
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