Leadoff Hitters Aren't Always What You Think

In the beginning, God created heaven and the earth. A hurricane, some say, starts with a single breath of air.

Baseball begins with leadoff hitters.

Once the on-field schmoozing is over, the batting cage is down, and a celebrity sings the National Anthem, all eyes are on the first batter. It's a moment when tone is set. Like a book's opening line, a leadoff hitter can energize his teammates, draw them into the game, or leave them flat and drained of confidence.

At least, that's what I thought before I spoke with the leadoff hitters for the Dodgers and Texas Rangers before last Monday's game.

"Nah," said the Rangers' "Rusty" Greer, a wiry, 32 year old veteran with--of course--reddish-blond hair. "I'm just trying to get on base and let the other batters do their thing."

Greer, it turns out, is an unusual leadoff man. For years he was third in the order, a spot usually reserved for slower, more powerful batters who slug home runs and drive in the jack-rabbit quick hitters ahead of them.

"I don't have much speed," he admits. Indeed, his 29 stolen bases over a seven year career hardly amounts to a month's work for a premier leadoff speedster. But when the Rangers shelled out nearly $250 million for Alex Rodriquez, a superstar shortstop, Greer had to move up in the order.

The Dodgers' first batter this night, Paul Lo Duca, is even more of an anomaly. He's a short, stocky catcher playing first base in place of injured regular Eric Karros. "I think Rusty's got a lot more speed them me," he ruefully concedes.

Lo Duca's 28, but comes across as a soft-spoken rookie. He's been with the Dodgers for parts of the two previous seasons, but player injuries finally gave him his first real shot at every-day play. His manner is still "just glad to be here."

Like Greer, he thinks little of grandiose leadoff theories. "My job," he explains, " is just to get on base. I might tell the guys what the pitcher's throwing, or whether he's sneaky fast. If I get on, that gives our other hitters a chance to do what they can do."

While Lo Duca's overall average is well above .300, lately the hits haven't been there. During batting practice, Jack Clark the Dodger's towering hitting coach, gives him some advice about keeping his hands on top of the ball. Sweet Lou Johnson, a retired player who dispenses cheer everywhere he goes, puts his arm around Lo Duca and turns to the other players.

"If this kid keeps hitting the way he can, you guys are going to be carrying his bat!" he cackles. The regulars smile. Lo Duca sort of blushes. But when he steps back in the cage, he really creams the ball.

Australian Luke Prokopec, the Dodgers' righthanded pitcher, finishes his warmup tosses to a pop tune from--of course--Down Under. Greer, a lefty, steps into the box. He works the count full and rips a double by Lo Duca at first.

The Rangers' next batter flies to deep right, moving Greer to third. Up comes the ballyhooed Rodriquez. He hacks some vicious fouls and then punches the ball to second, allowing Greer to score easily.

It's an absolutely textbook example of moving the leadoff hitter around the bases. A solo homer puts Texas up 2-0.

Lo Duca starts out the bottom half of the inning against Darren Oliver, a journeyman lefthander he has never before faced. Oliver serves up a bunch of hard, 85 mile per hour curve balls. Lo Duca, happily ending his slump, slaps one to center for a single.

Unlike Texas, however, the Dodgers don't exploit their chance. The next batter raps into a double play. Red-hot Shawn Green hits one out, but there's no one ahead of him to run up the score. The inning ends with the Dodgers trailing 2-1.

Does the first hitter matter? The classic leads--"Call me Ishmael" or "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times"--clearly set the stage for the novel to follow. Tonight, after moving Greer from second to home with picture-perfect efficiency, it's Texas that seems to keep doing more things right. The Rangers win 12-7.