Bad Back Helps Leave Franco at a Loss

NEW YORK —  John Franco, a Lafayette High alumnus, lifelong Bensonhurst resident and a familiar sight at the best Italian deli counters of Brooklyn, is like the old Dodgers, a part of the borough’s heart and soul. When he was traded from the Cincinnati Reds to the Mets before last season, he rejoiced at coming home. And now Franco, like the Dodgers, is moving.

Franco isn’t moving as far west as the Bums. He’s not even crossing the city line -- only 10 minutes over the Verrazano Narrows Bridge into Staten Island. But clearly, duh neighbahood won’t be the same without him.

“I have a lot of land for my daughter, she’s 3, and there’s another one on the way,” Franco said. “I’ve got two acres. It’s real nice. No disrespect for anybody, but last year was kind of hectic. People were ringing my doorbell at all hours asking to get an autograph. I can’t even go out in front of the house on the steps to read a book.

“I grew up always around people, neighbors right on top of each other. Now this is going to be like having my own place in the country.

“It will be great for my family. You know, my mom and dad didn’t have much, but they always saw to it that I had a little extra. I was always grateful for that. I want to do the same for the ones I love. Here I am, making unbelievable money. Why not enjoy it?”

Franco’s new digs include a backyard waterfall that cascades into a swimming pool. The basement includes a basketball court and a racquetball court. He has not settled in yet because he has not been able to move any furniture or boxes.

“My back,” he said. “I’m afraid if I try to move anything, that’s it, it’s gone.”

Nine days ago, Franco was jogging near Riverfront Stadium in Cincinnati when he felt a muscle in his lower back tighten. He was running on the grates of a suspension bridge that links Covington, Ky., and Cincinnati.

Later that same night, Franco said, “I couldn’t straighten up.” More than a week later, he said the back “is no better and no worse. So I have to deal with it for a while. Maybe it might not go away.” He estimated that he is only about 75-percent healthy.

Manager Bud Harrelson and pitching coach Mel Stottlemyre must check with him every time they want him to warm up. But Franco won’t refuse any chance to pitch “as long as I can walk to the mound and I have my left arm.” He is especially adamant about pitching through this injury now that Alejandro Pena, the team’s second-in-command closer, can’t pitch because of a shoulder injury.

It takes something of a medical miracle just to get Franco to the mound. His daily routine includes anti-inflammatory pills and a pregame ice treatment. He watches the game for five innings, then retreats to the clubhouse. He does stretching exercises, lies on the floor and is “put into a little traction” by the team’s strength training coach, does back exercises with a large inflatable ball, rides a stationary bike, gets more treatment from the trainers and never sits still “because if I do, I’ll just tighten up.”

The nagging back injury has served only to bring another level of pain to what has been a discomforting season for Franco. He has allowed more hits than innings pitched (he has never done so over any of his seven major-league seasons) and managed to lose five games despite allowing only six earned runs.

“This,” he said, “has been my most frustrating season.”

He was the losing pitcher in Los Angeles when three eighth-inning errors behind him gave the Dodgers four runs, and he lost in St. Louis when a routine grounder became a game-winning hit because first baseman Dave Magadan had to take cover from the shrapnel of a broken bat. On Monday in Houston, he lost because of his own doing: a four-run eighth inning.

“That was my first real blown save, I mean, other than errors or something,” he said. “I’ll take one out of 12 anytime. I’ve lost games almost every way you can imagine.

“The thing is, you blow one game and people think you’ve lost confidence. It’s like last September. All of a sudden I was no good and you’d think there was a suicide watch. We’re not robots. It’s part of the game. I’ve learned to deal with that. I’m much more mature about that than I used to be.”

He has found different ways to deal with defeat. In Los Angeles, after what he refers to simply as “The Error Game,” Franco kicked a bucket of ammonia water and heaved a dumbbell against a wall. Other times he has employed humor as his medicine, such as the time in St. Louis when he noted that, luckily, the windows to his hotel room did not open.

After the loss in Houston, Franco needed real pain-killers. The team took a three-hour flight home after the game, a prison sentence for someone with a bad back.

“(I) didn’t feel a thing,” Franco said. “I was in the twilight zone. I was flying with the plane.”

It is paramount for the Mets to get Franco right, especially with the Pirates threatening to bury them. Franco has to get healthy, reduce the hits against him and, as a new resident of Staten Island, find himself a good deli.

“There’s a lot of Italians there, so I’m sure I’ll find one,” he said. “If not, I’m still only 10 minutes away from Brooklyn.”