Sports outlook 9/7

Sometimes the most ominous sound in the world can be the simple tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock. Often it's because you know that when the ticking stops, the alarm will jolt your senses. In Kansas City it's been ticking this summer and on that inevitable day when it sounds off it would be much nicer if Porky Pig would smilingly appear on that huge screen behind the left field fence at Kauffman Stadium, give us that familiar wink, wave and say to us all, "Th-th-th-that's all folks." All the "Believe" slogans in the world aren't going to carry the Kansas City Royals to the 2003 World Series for one reason and one reason only. They aren't that good. The Royals played some incredible baseball in April and had sporadic periods later on when they did well. But reality has a way of rearing its ugly head in late August and September. The Royals did pick up Brian Anderson to bolster a pitching staff that has undergone incredible hardships this summer. Look at Runelvys Hernandez. He started the season looking much like the reincarnation of Christy Mathewson and is now back in the minors attempting to regain his lost touch after suffering an injury. After the incredible string of injuries felled the already thin pitching corps, each acquisition met with failure. Jimmy Gobble was brought up, pitched a couple of good games, then was introduced to reality. They even attempted to revive the faltering career of former ace Kevin Appier who pitched a couple of times before his injuries got the best of him. And so it has gone all year. The Royals have used an incredible 14 different starting pitchers this summer. Sure, they could still somehow win their division, undeniably the worst in baseball. But even in doing that, they would have the worst record of the playoff teams. Sure, the Royals are improving all the time, but they're simply not there yet. The only thing that really bothers me is that when the Royals reach the point where they are a good team, Carlos Beltran will be playing somewhere else. Unfortunately, he and Mike Sweeney hold the keys to the offense much like the Yankees of Ruth and Gehrig, Mantle and Maris. That's what offends me so much about the game these days. You get the good ones, then have to let them go elsewhere. Personally, I could accept the concept of $20 million instead of signing elsewhere for $21 million. Those numbers are all abstract anyway. Like Darrell Porter once said to me, "If I thought about it, I'd go crazy." Meanwhile, the clock is going tick-tock, tick-tock. "Bobby Bonds could play for anyone" Could you believe that so little was said about the death of Bobby Bonds on, I think, Aug. 22? Bobby Bonds was known for two things that he was better at than most in his 14-year major league career. First, he struck out more times than practically anybody until Reggie Jackson topped them all and as the words to the song, Willie, Mickey and the Duke said, "Bobby Bonds can play for any one." After seven seasons with San Francisco he was traded in 1975 to the Yankees, 1976 to the Angels, 1978 to the White Sox and Rangers, 1979 to Cleveland, 1980 to St. Louis and 1981 to the Cubs. After being released by the Cubs, Bonds went to Columbus of the International League in 1982, hit .179 and was released, his career over at age 36. As far as strikeouts, Bonds led the National League in 1969, 1970 and 1973. Secondly, Bonds was known for having amazing power for a leadoff hitter and was an outstanding outfielder. I also enjoyed watching him play, which is more than I can say for his steroid pumped son, who walks to the plate wearing body armor and looking more like someone out of a Terminator movie or an enraged rhino than a ballplayer. I don't know how Bobby Bonds felt about his son, though he must have loved him. But it bothers me a great deal to see the younger Bonds catching his father's teammate, the great Willie Mays, in home runs. Had he modeled himself after Mays, Barry Bonds would be a very popular player today. Unfortunately he chose a different path. Didn't miss East Newton You know, despite the fact that the Nevada Tigers had an outstanding 8-2 all-time record against the East Newton Patriots prior to restarting the series last year, I never, not for one minute, ever missed that series. The reason for that is I have never visited a worse spot to play football. Don't try to tell me I don't know what I'm talking about since I started making road trips to watch the Tigers on Sept. 27, 1957 when they beat Mount Vernon 22-21. Know what? They didn't even have a scoreboard down there in those days. They wrote the score on a small chalkboard on the north side of the bleachers. Here is what's wrong with East Newton. It's cold and windy. At least it always was whenever we played down there. East Newton is also the place where I broke a tooth while eating a hot dog. There was always this horribly cold wind howling in across the fields to the west of the stadium. Since I sat on the roof of the press box,I caught the full brunt of it. The worst ever came on Sept. 14, 1984 when I walked in wearing a short sleeved shirt because it had been exceptionally warm in Nevada. I hit East Newton and the temperature had dropped at least 30 degrees and was still going down. Luckily for me, Travis Smith tossed me his sideline parka. Travis was, of course, a 300-pound tackle who enjoyed flattening people. His parka was so huge it nearly weighted me down but kept me from freezing. What's it gonna be like this year? There is one plus. It beats a nine-game schedule, which is what we got in 1981 when the series took a one-year break because of a scheduling quirk.