Blyleven’s Comeback Is a Different Story

Dealing with the pressing issues of the day . . .

Bert Blyleven, The Sequel: Are we merely standing in line for “Fernando II”?

The first impressions are familiar.

Aging once-great pitcher, abandoned by once-resilient pitching arm, inactive for months on end, is rushed into Angel rotation to replace struggling young right-hander as the club’s No. 5 starter.

Joe Grahe has become this year’s Scott Lewis--sacrificial lamb, served up in the pursuit of early ‘80s nostalgia--and now the rest of the carbon copy belongs to Blyleven, who, unlike Fernando Valenzuela in 1991, is 41 and coming off nearly two years of inactivity.

Blyleven last pitched in a major-league game 21 months ago--on Aug. 10, 1990, against the Baltimore Orioles. He left after six innings due to “tightness in the right shoulder,” a condition that would lead to two surgeries in the next eight months.

Tuesday, Blyleven finally pitches for the Angels again after mediocre results in six minor league starts.

What to expect, within reason:

1. Better results than Valenzuela. Heat to junk--that was the transition Fernando The Not As Overpowering failed to complete in 1991, a philosophical concession to age Blyleven accepted years ago. Worse results would be difficult--Valenzuela was 0-2 with a 12.15 earned-run average in three starts--but if Blyleven somehow manages, the comeback lasts two weeks, max.

2. More patience by the Angels. Unlike the overrated class of ‘91, anything over .500 is gravy for this group. This group also goes four-deep in starting pitching, courtesy the pleasant contributions of Julio Valera, so the coaching staff is less prone to nervous breakdowns every fifth day.

3. More determination by the pitcher. Blyleven knows it more than anyone else--this is the last chance. Blyleven knows he has too much left on the docket not to waste it.

Twenty-one more victories give him 300.

One hundred and sixty-three more innings give him 5,000.

Twelve more strikeouts make him third on the all-time list.

Behold, the keys to the Hall of Fame.

Misplace them now and the door stays shut forever.

Herschel Walker-to-the-Rams: Are we merely toying with “Curt Warner II?”

As a grass-roots movement, Dump Herschel was simpler in Albertville than it has been in Minneapolis, but then, pushing a sled was always easier than trading one.

If the rest of the NFL isn’t interested, why should the Rams be?

Well . . .

1. Herschel, the supposed Dog of the Tundra, the man who personally set Viking football back ages (Leif Eriksson was no good in the open field, either), rushed for 825 yards last season. That’s better than any Ram since 1989.

2. Herschel, the tailback who ran the Minnesota franchise into the ground, averaged 4.2 yards per carry last season (Robert Delpino averaged 3.2), rushed for 10 touchdowns (one more than Delpino) and caught 33 passes (more than Flipper Anderson, Damone Johnson and Buford McGee).

3. The Vikings are reportedly seeking only a conditional draft choice, probably a middle-rounder, in return.

What do the Rams have to lose?

(More on that below.)

The Rams’ 1992 schedule: Do I hear 4-12, anyone?

The season opener is at Buffalo.

The home opener is against New England, recently rejuvenated under excitable senior Dick MacPherson and winner of twice as many games as the Rams in 1991.

Game 3 is at Miami, an AFC playoff team in 1991.

Game 4 is against the New York Jets, an AFC semifinalist in 1991.

Game 5 is at San Francisco.

Game 6 is at New Orleans.

Game 7 is against the New York Giants.

By the bye, it could be 0-7 and barbed wire strewn atop the fences of Rams Park, Ft. Knox under siege.

Factor in home games against the 49ers and the Saints, the annual home-and-home series with Atlanta and a road game against Dallas, and the Rams, right now, look to be underdogs at least a dozen times.

That number again: 1-900-HERSCHEL.

The NBA playoffs: Is this simply Michael Jordan’s way of precluding another White House rose garden mess?

One more knockdown today by the New York Nicks-And-Bruises and the world champs are gone, counted out, TKO.

“Be Like Mike” was never intended to mean Tyson against Buster Douglas.

The pounding being administered by Pat Riley’s bantamweight division is working and the Bulls’ subsequent whining has been nothing if not ironic. Before Michael introduced the term finesse to Da-Bulls rabble inside Chicago Stadium, before the Detroit Pistons were overhauled and Laimbeered, the Bulls were the preeminent goon squad within the NBA.

Jerry West used to count the teeth marks in his arm after four quarters of one-on-one with Jerry Sloan.

Norm Van Lier used to tackle opposing guards at the kneecaps.

Tom Boerwinkle used to prowl the lane with the gentlemanly grace of the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Those Bulls were thugs and, it is obvious today, well ahead of their time. In the 1970s, no team ever pummeled its way into the NBA finals.

In the 1990s, New York just might.

There are worse scenarios, David Stern must suppose. A Cleveland-Utah final, for instance.

To the NBA on NBC: There’s your flagrant foul.