Will Dodgers Stand Test of (Short) Time?

Mickey Mantle was having a quiet talk not long ago with Tom Lasorda, field commander of the Dodgers.

“The money that Bo Jackson didn’t get this year,” said Mantle, “is more than I made in my lifetime as a player.”

Mantle was referring to the arbitration in which Bo asked $1,900,001 from Kansas City, only to be consigned to bread and water.

He got but a million.

It is the contention of today’s entertainers, though, that they deserve greater riches, not only because the economics of sports has changed, but because those in it are a better-conditioned breed than those appearing earlier.

“That’s why this season is an interesting test,” says Lasorda. “The players have three weeks to do in training what they previously did in six. We’ll find out if they’re in the shape they always claim they are.”

It is rare that the major league player of today demeans himself between seasons tending bar, laying brick, or selling cars, as predecessors did.

“Their commitment is to their body,” says the Dodger manager. “Always working out, they tell us. They’re running, lifting weights, dieting scientifically. We’re about to find out how many shin splints, hamstring pulls and blisters show up around here. How many of our finely tuned machines will be ready opening day?”

Because of the way things have gone this year, form becomes a fragile matter.

“During the lockout,” says Lasorda, “some teams, I’m sure, had players who did more to get into condition than others. Which teams they are I don’t know, but they are the ones that are going to jump out in front when the season gets under way.”

Of the 38 players composing the Dodgers’ major league roster this spring, only eight appeared in camp Tuesday in this palm-lined precinct.

The others promised to report during the week, their departures from home no doubt delayed by last-minute meetings with their brokers.

Orel Hershiser, who bought a home in Vero Beach as a winter convenience, reported to camp the first day after dropping off his 5-year-old son at school.

“Are you playing because you changed the rules?” the kid asked his father.

“Both sides changed the rules,” Orel explained, patiently.

A near-genius, young Hershiser wanted to know, if both sides were willing to change the rules, why they didn’t do it before so that everyone could have come to play earlier.

As proceedings resume, the Dodgers are happy to report that the work stoppage resulted in only 1% of their ticket clients asking for refunds.

They have sold their customary 27,000 season seats, cutting off traffic at the figure. Always leveling an eye on a bank note, the Dodgers are bullish on attendance prospects if they produce a team that doesn’t embarrass the art.

“Why are the Dodgers successful?” we once inquired of Walter O’Malley, late owner of the troupe.

“The Dodgers are successful,” he answered, “because people always know where to find us.”

By that he meant, the cerebral trust of the Dodgers wouldn’t be found on the golf course, in steam rooms or at lingering lunches featuring the dry martini.

It isn’t easy to sell a team that won only 77 games the previous season, but the Dodgers have ladled out money for a free agent named Hubie Brooks, gambling that his presence will be an asset.

They are gambling, too, that yielding Mike Marshall and Alejandro Pena to the Mets for Juan Samuel won’t result in a bust.

Samuel steals a good base, but at bat last year for Philadelphia and New York, he hit 25 points below Marshall.

And what appears to be the status of Kirk Gibson, whose artistry was offered an adoring public last year in only 71 games?

Gibson has informed ownership that he would require a minimum of three weeks to attain condition approximating his professional standards.

The Dodgers figure three weeks isn’t bad, considering it took Michelangelo three years to do the Sistine Chapel.

With six weeks of conditioning last year, Gibson hit .213, meaning he might have overtrained.

Aiming to profit from Kirk’s misadventure, baseball this time has arranged a shorter training period.

And do those beloved fans, purported to be the losers, have recourse?

Indeed, they do. If they have between two and three years’ experience watching baseball, they can take their case to arbitration.