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<UID>
8802160090
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<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
881022
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Saturday, October 22, 1988
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO EDITION
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1C
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>
Photo Associated Press
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1988, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
COLOR LOS ANGELES THE CITY OF CHAMPIONS
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
OAKLAND, Calif. --  It was the biggest moment of his baseball life, he was
about to pitch the bottom of the ninth, lead his teammates to the promised
land of the World Series, and there he was -- sitting  in the dugout, his head
back, his eyes closed.

  "What were you doing?" someone asked Orel Hershiser.

  "I was singing hymns," he said.
  Oh.
  Singing hymns? Well. Why not? A few minutes later,  he struck out Oakland's
Tony Phillips -- Game over! Dodgers win the World Series! DODGERS WIN THE
WORLD SERIES! -- and his teammates were singing him. They rushed the mound in
unbridled celebration, buried themselves in history, and somewhere the
baseball gods nudged each other and said, "Hey. Who are these guys?"
  Paint it blue. Dodgers win. The team that had nothing suddenly had it all.
With  a roster full of also-rans, a bench full of casualties, and one
baby-faced pitcher who sang hymns (no doubt "Amazing Grace"), they had done
the unthinkable. Beat the winningest team in baseball this  year, four times
in five games.
  Paint it blue.
  "This team should be an influence on everybody in the WORLD!" bellowed
Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda, his hair soaked with champagne, after the
Dodgers  upset the Athletics, 5-2, Thursday to capture the Fall Classic. "I'm
gonna go to LA tomorrow and dance in the STREETS! AND I'M GONNA--"
  Back in a minute, Tommy.
  First, your team. Oh, what they  did to the Oakland Athletics. Stole their
glory. Stole their thunder. In the end, they even stole their game plan. Hit
with power. Take a home run trot.
  So here was Mickey Hatcher, a castoff nobody  wanted last year (and a man
who should definitely cut down on his caffeine intake) slapping high-fives
after his two-run homer in the first inning Thursday that set the tone for the
Oakland decapitation.
  Here was Mike Davis, another free agent, another former Athletic, another
bit player, getting the green light on a 3-0 pitch and cranking a two-run
homer over the wall in the fourth. A 3-0 pitch? Mike  Davis?
  Here was Rick Dempsey, 39, now starting as catcher and slashing a double
deep to right to drive in a run. Rick Dempsey? Who had to call the Dodgers and
ask for a tryout? What's next? Woody  Allen as designated hitter?
  Maybe so. Woody. Frank. Sammy. The Dodgers will have all the celebrities
out when they land in LA. If they land. The way they played, capturing this
World Series in just  one game over the minimum, with a cast of human
Band-Aids and a heart as big as their dugout, well, they just may stay up in
the sky forever.
  Paint it blue.
Say something for your old fans in Puerto  Rico!" a radio guy demanded of
Hatcher in the steamy, champagne-soaked clubhouse afterward.
  "Puerto Rico?" Hatcher said. "They cut me in Puerto Rico. Here's what I
say. Pffft!"
  Perfect. Was that  perfect? Here was a team that nobody wanted, a team that
nobody even liked last year -- after they finished under .500 and fourth in
the National League West. What a remarkable comeback! Even the baseball
experts who figured Oakland would win this thing easily had to applaud their
mistake Thursday. The Dodgers captured baseball's most precious prize with
more bandages than "M*A*S*H" and more extras than  "Ben Hur."
  Oh yeah. And Orel.
  "LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT OREL HERSHISER!" Lasorda barked. "I HAVE NEVER SEEN
ANYBODY PITCH LIKE--"
  Back in a minute, Tommy.
  Hershiser can speak for himself.  Just by raising his pitching arm. "You
put 10 names in a hat to pitch this game," teammate Kirk Gibson said, "you
want to pick Orel's."
  Unless, of course, you're Oakland. Hershiser is so deadly, he should come
with a child-proof cap. MVP? They should let him have it for two years. You
could stick him out there with the cast of "Godspell," and he'd win. Did you
catch that moment in the bottom  of the eighth Thursday, when Hershiser faced
mighty Jose Canseco with two runners on and the entire city of Oakland
taunting "OOOO-RRELL! OOOO-RRELL!" He worked the count to two strikes, calmly,
masterfully,  then jammed Canseco on the fists. The slugger popped up
innocently, and the World Series and the MVP award had just been decided.
  The rest was merely an epilogue.
  Never mind that the Dodgers  were the walking wounded. Apparently the loss
of Gibson (bum legs), Mike Marshall (bum back), John Tudor (bum elbow) and
Mike Scioscia (bum knee) wasn't going to affect Tommy Use-em and The Tonight
Show Orchestra.
  LA used Dempseys, Hamiltons, Gonzalezes. Not exactly Reggie and Mickey. So
what? Here, Thursday, was the final indignity. The Dodgers were hitting home
runs. In Oakland's park. Where Don Baylor had once said the Dodger Stadium
dingers would "be nothing but long fly balls."
  Yeah. Long fly balls out of the park. And look who was hitting them! Mickey
Hatcher? Mike Davis? Let's face  it here. The A's lost to the B's.
  "I haven't slept since this series started," Hatcher said. "When we got that
last out, and I realized we had won it, I left the ground!"
  Paint it blue.
And what  of the Athletics? Try as you will to be kind, it is hard not to
conclude that, simply put, they stunk. OK. Maybe that's harsh. But we're
judging them by their own standards. After all, it was the Athletics  players
-- such as Baylor, Canseco and Parker -- who spoke so confidently before this
series. It was the Athletics who won 104 games during the season, and who arm
wrestled the entire American League  to the ground. Power? Runs? Bulging
biceps? The Athletics had it all -- right up to the first game of the Series.
  "I just want to say one thing,"  manager Tony La Russa said. "We missed the
biggest  piece we were chasing. But we did not choke. We got beat because the
Dodgers did more than we did."
  Yes. Which sometimes wasn't saying much. Oakland hit .177 in the Series.
Its motto could have been,  "When the going gets tough, the tough pop out."
How many times did we see Canseco and Mark McGwire and Parker fizzle in
critical situations? The "Oakland Bashers" managed just two home runs all
series -- or the same number as Hatcher, who was unemployed and waiting for
the phone to ring last year.
  The Oakland pitching wasn't much better. Dave Stewart, the ace, came up
empty twice. Storm Davis  got two starts and didn't pitch nine innings.
  "We have nothing to be ashamed of," said Stewart, who nonetheless felt bad
losing in front of the sold-out home crowd. But this was simply not meant  to
be for Oakland. In the sixth inning, Canseco ran to his position in right
field, only to discover he had no glove. He thought someone else had brought
it out. 
  Apparently, someone was already  packing up.
So it's the Dodgers, World Series champions, and now we get an entire winter
of Tommy Lasorda on the talk show circuit, and Kirk Gibson recollecting  that
one swing, that one home run, and that 1.000 World Series batting average.
  "You can't compare this to 1984," Gibson said. "My goal coming out of
spring training was to be world champions. It was all I thought about. Not the
All-Star Game, not winning the MVP. Just being the world champions."
  He did his part. From Gibby's shot-heard-around-the-world in Game 1, to
Hershiser in Game 2, to Jay Howell's clutch relief job in Game 4,  to
Hatcher-Dempsey-Davis in Game 5, the Dodgers played dial-a-hero and somebody
always answered.
  So be it. If there's anyone out there who can say LA didn't deserve to win
this thing, let him speak  now.
  Didn't think so.
  Go ahead, Tommy.
  "THIS IS THE GREATEST BUNCH OF GUYS IN THE WORLD BECAUSE--"
  We know the because. Because they did it with subs, because they did it
with scrubs.  Because they did it with heart, soul, pasta and prayer. Because
they did it with a mean-faced slugger playing "The Natural," and a baby-faced,
miracle pitcher who framed his biggest baseball moment with  a quiet hymn.
  Because they did it in five games -- no questions, no doubts, no problem.
  What do you say to the team that has nothing? Happy World Series. The
trophy is yours.
  Paint it blue.
CUTLINE
LA's  Orel Hershiser shows off his World Series MVP trophy after he pitched a
four-hitter Thursday night against the A's.
Dodgers' winning pitcher Orel Hershiser is hoisted in the air by catcher Rick
Dempsey  after the last out of the World Series Thursday night.
A's slugger Jose Canseco was 1-for-19 in the World Series.
Mike Davis (center) is welcomed after his two-run homer in the fourth inning
gave the  Dodgers a 4-1 lead.
Mickey Hatcher is all smiles after his first-inning, two-run home run gave the
Dodgers a 2-0 lead.
Teammates surround Orel Hershiser after the last out of the World Series
Thursday  night.
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<DISCLAIMER>

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<KEYWORDS>
BASEBALL;WORLD SERIES
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