CINCINNATI REDS --- John Wagner

As I was walking around the flea market, he caught my eye. I studied the man carefully, realizing that I recognized him from somewhere. Suddenly it came to me. "Say, aren't you Jim Bowden?" I asked the man.

"Shhh. Not so loud," said Bowden, pulling the Cincinnati Reds baseball cap down to cover his eyes.

I lowered my voice. "What are you doing here?" I whispered.

He glanced to see if anyone was listening. "I'm looking for ballplayers," he finally answered. "You never know where you'll find a good middle infielder or solid long reliever."

He must have noticed the quizzical look on my face. "Listen, every deal can't be for Ken Griffey Jr.," he explained. "Sure it was fun causing a stir with that trade, but the bread-and-butter of our team is turning players nobody wants into solid contributors. You can't trade for a Griffey every day.

"Plus, those trades can come back to haunt you. Nobody seems to realize that Griffey hit 40 home runs and had 118 RBI last season everyone just remembers the booing and the pouting and the fight with our radio announcer."

Very true, I thought. "But why is it you seem to spend all of your time chasing after fringe minor leaguers?" I asked. "Your free agent signees this year were Wilton Guerrero, Frankie Rodriguez and Kelly Stinnett. I don't suppose anybody has told you to start printing playoff tickets after you signed those guys."

Bowden grimaced. "But last year we used the same formula and found a diamond in the rough in Mark Wohlers," Bowden replied. "And remember, this is basically the same team that won 96 games in 1999."

I wasn't fooled. "Yeah, but the same lineup plus Griffey only won 85 games last season," I said. "Plus you've traded away most of your starting rotation when you dealt Ron Villone and Steve Parris, not to mention trading Denny Neagle last year in mid-season. And you lost your most valuable reserve when you sent Chris Stynes to Boston. And did I mention that you gave away Ed Taubensee to the Indians to create a hole at catcher?"

Bowden's face turned red. "But we've got one of the most productive minor-league systems in baseball," he finally stammered.

"That's great," I said sarcastically. "I predict your Louisville club will win the International League and Chattanooga will win the Southern. But what good does that do you in Cincinnati?"

I had crossed the line. "Look," Bowden exploded. "We've got the core of a good young team with guys like Sean Casey at first and Pokey Reese at second. Dmitri Young is a solid hitter, and Aaron Boone will be solid once he comes back from his injury. And when you've got old pros like Griffey and Barry Larkin in your lineup, you know you'll score some runs."

I tried to calm him down, but Bowden wasn't finished.

"Our pitching still has the nucleus of a good staff with guys like Pete Harnisch and Scott Williamson, and I'd put our closer Danny Graves up against anybody. And with Bob Boone as our manager, we'll be a better club than we were with that old coot Jack McKeon. Besides, is it our fault that everybody is overpaying their players?"

Bob Boone? I thought. Didn't he nearly kill the Kansas City Royals? But I nodded and stayed quiet, because Bowden was on a roll. "Is it fair that we are viewed as cheap even though we feel everyone else is overspending?" he said. "We had seven players eligible for arbitration! Seven! And that was after we traded away guys who were eligible like Villone, Stynes and Parris."

"Can you imagine the hit we would have taken in salaries if we were forced to go to arbitration with all of those players?"

I could, and the idea wasn't pretty. Still, I wasn't completely sold. "Can you still compete in the NL Central after all these moves?" I asked.

"Why not?" Bowden said. "We did it two years ago. We can beat Pittsburgh, Milwaukee and the Cubs just by making sure we don't forfeit any games. And who said the Cardinals won't go into the tank like the Astros did? Or that the Astros won't stay in the tank? Remember, we've got Griffey, and that makes us dangerous no matter what happens."

Suddenly, a gruff-looking older woman approached Bowden. "Time to get moving, honey," she said in a raspy voice, a cigarette dangling from her lip. Bowden froze, his eyes suddenly wide in fear. He snapped to attention at the woman's commands. Then he noticed she was not talking to him, but to a large St. Bernard wearing a Reds cap. She pulled on the dog's leash, and the pair walked away.

Bowden sighed in relief. "Old habits die hard," he said, and shrugged.