Let’s Forget About Beating Down Busch

Mike Busch once thought he could never harm the Dodgers worse than he did on March 2, 1994, when a bat slipped from his hands in Vero Beach, Fla., and struck teammate Delino DeShields in the face, breaking his cheekbone. Busch was distraught that day. He thought nothing could be more awful.

He was wrong.

It was quite a depressing sight Tuesday night, watching Busch be quarantined with a case of baseball leprosy. Each inning when nine of his Dodger “teammates” took the field against the New York Mets, a vast expanse of vacant bench separated Busch from the remaining men in uniform, as though they feared contamination.

And before the game, when the new infielder in town expressed a desire to to address his “teammates” to explain why he had double-crossed his Dodger brethren by volunteering to play third scab? They turned a deaf ear to brother Busch, telling him to take that replacement-player job and shove it. For which I don’t blame them one bit.

But, you know what?

You don’t need to like a guy to go to war with him.

And cold-shouldering a brother Dodger--which this guy is, like what he did or not--is a spiteful and self-destructive act that in no way can help the Los Angeles Dodgers win baseball games, particularly since everyone in this organization, top to bottom, will tell you that nothing matters more to them than winning and teamwork.

Vindictiveness is the last thing the Dodgers need now. Player after player has spoken of the “healing process” that baseball has been undergoing since the strike. Well, physicians, heal thyselves. Dodgers have embraced teammates guiltier of far worse sins than those Mike Busch ever committed in his 27-year-old life.

So, the Christian thing to do--pardon a religious allusion--as well as the wise thing would be for Brett Butler, Tom Candiotti, Tim Wallach and the rest of the Dodger veterans to reconsider their freeze-out of Mike Busch, forgive, forget and show a little human kindness to a person who--like them--doesn’t always do what’s right.

Baseball prides itself as a big believer in second chances. When the players went back to work, they pleaded with their fans: “Please, let’s put the strike behind us.” When the players and owners declared a truce, they spoke in unison: “The strike is over. Let’s put it behind us.”

Remember how any time a beleaguered Darryl Strawberry pulled one of his stunts, Dodger after Dodger asked that the public give the guy a break, that he was only human and made mistakes? Remember when a player popped a firecracker or made a vulgar gesture, how player after player asked that we please not hold a grudge against someone who simply made an error in judgment?

Funny how this forget-and-forgive business works.

Whenever a baseball player reports late to camp, or holds out until his contract is resolved, hurting his team, likely as not someone will say: “He’s only looking out for his family.” Well, wasn’t Mike Busch only looking out for his family? He has an eight-month-old baby. Busch became a scab player, right or wrong, because he believed it was necessary to his family’s well-being.

“I’d do it again,” the newly arrived third baseman said at Dodger Stadium, two hours before Tuesday’s game, while teammate after teammate tip-toed around him like poison ivy.

“I did what I felt I had to do.”

He did the same thing that Manny Mota’s son, Jose, did when he reported to the Kansas City Royals as a replacement player, so I suppose the Dodgers won’t want their coach’s kid ever dropping around. And their manager, Tom Lasorda, who hugged and raved about replacement Dodgers while his real Dodgers were out of work, they must not like playing with him, either.

Personally, it so happens that I detest what Mike Busch did, and I understand thoroughly the feelings that most of the Dodgers harbor toward him. But, let’s face it, these are baseball players, so Busch hardly stole food from their children’s plates. He made a decision, same as Lasorda did and same as Sparky Anderson did. Decisions are hard.

Fred Claire made one himself. The Dodger general manager felt Mike Busch could be of some help. The players disagreed, angrily. They might be right.

But what’s done is done. This team doesn’t need a pariah; it needs a pennant. Somebody please pat this kid on the cap and say: “Forget it. Let’s put it behind us.”

His shirt reads Dodgers.