Oh, Puh-Leeze, Let’S Play These Two Over Again

Oh, I get it.

These guys were auditioning.

Eric Plunk, Jose Mesa, Paul Assenmacher - the little charades these Cleveland relievers staged Wednesday night were but a tease, some untimely walks and a minor crises to plant a seed in Woody Woodward’s head for the next time the Seattle swapmeister is looking to make renovations to the Mariners blowpen.

Window dressing, as it were.

Well, it was darn distracting, getting everyone’s hopes up and diverting our attention from this time-lapse shipwreck-in-progress.

Speaking of which, you know what Ernie Banks used to say.

Let’s play these two over.

We’re invoking the memory of Mr. Cub for symbolic reasons, his old club having won its 1998 season opener on Wednesday after starting the ‘97 season with 14 straight losses. This record of futility could well be in danger unless somebody can ransom the Seattle Mariners back from these kidnappers wearing their uniforms.

There is no shame in losing a pair to the defending American League champions, as the M’s just did.

Chagrin, humiliation and ignominy, yes. But no shame.

Only kidding. It was grand drama, all of it, and let’s do it again real soon.

But we got to thinking during the M’s 9-7 loss to Cleveland on Wednesday night that now might be a good time for one of skipper Lou Piniella’s closed-door meetings.

Except that one of the Mariners relievers would no doubt neglect to close the door.

Kidding again. Touch-ee.

The blowpen didn’t really have much to do with this one getting away - though de facto closer Heathcliff Slocumb did demonstrate that he could have screwed it up Tuesday evening just as royally as his penpals did. In fact, he did them one better - allowing the Indians two insurance runs in the ninth inning after the M’s had closed the gap to 7-6. Then David Segui slugged his second home run of the game in the bottom half and Piniella was left to wash down his if-onlys with hemlock, or whatever’s on tap in the locker room these days.

Otherwise, Mariners relievers had much more to do with almost getting it back than the sainted offense, which came up with yet another three-run homer - also Segui’s - but not the right hit at the desperate time.

Not to worry. This was only Game 2.

Just as long as the M’s aren’t still saying that after game 162.

The Mariners now have a day off to regroup from this colossal bummer, and if they have any luck at all, the Sonics will stumble against Dallas tonight and take the heat off locally.

OK, OK. I’ll stop.

There isn’t anything wrong with the M’s that Minnesota coming to town wouldn’t cure. Unfortunately, it’s the Red Sox due in Friday, but they’ll have to do.

We knew pitching was going to be bad in this year of expansion, but we thought that meant for, you know, expansion teams.

Right now, the only things expanding are Mariners ERAs - and not just the ones in the blowpen.

In the past two years, Randy Johnson and Jamie Moyer have combined to go 48-11 for Seattle, and that’s not counting the victories when they started and didn’t get the decision.

Now they’re 0-2, having given up 23 hits in a combined 10 innings.

Johnson complained of being around the plate too much Tuesday night. Moyer must have had the same problem, though not until he’d thrown first-pitch balls to 15 of the 25 batters he faced.

He left this one with the Mariners trailing 7-1. That certainly took the pressure off the blowpen, which accounts for its performance until Heath took it over the cliff.

I know the Mariners are carrying three catchers, but do they have enough mitts?

Of course, the Indians have fluffed up their share of ERAs all over the American League for a few years now and, obviously, they didn’t get out unscathed, though they did get out undefeated.

Besides, this is the team supposedly so desperate for pitching that it traded away the best prospect in baseball - Sean Casey - just to get a No. 3 starter on the eve of the opener. That would be Dave Burba, who was supposed to be Cincinnati’s opening day starter.

He’s a former Mariner. Naturally.

Maybe I don’t get this, after all.