Game Over

I hate being the depressing guy but I read this story from the LA Times today during my lunch break and it made me feel pretty sad for someone that I didn't think I could possibly manage to feel sorry for.

Everyone knows the story. Eric Gagne was the hero of Dodger Stadium at a time when we didn't have many heroes. It was such a fairytale story, really. The mediocre starting pitcher turned into a reliever out of necessity that quickly became a closer when it became obvious that his hockey player mentality was better suited for it. Then the real magic began. He turned from a starter-turned-closer into the best closer in baseball. His fastballs exploded with velocity and movement. His changeup seemed almost unfair to the people who were forced to stand at the plate and have their knees buckled by it. The blaring sound of "Welcome To The Jungle" and the idea of "Game Over" flashing across the Diamond Vision kept Dodger fans in their seats all the way through the ninth inning, completely destroying the "Ha ha - Dodger fans show up in the 3rd and leave in the 7th" that has haunted us for so all.

It all seemed so perfect. Too perfect. It was a too good to be true scenario and in the end, it turned out to be exactly that.

Gagne signed a big contract after three huge years... and then physically collapsed. No one wanted to even whisper the thought at the time but as the physical downfall dovetailed with baseball's new drug testing policy, the thought crossed everyone's minds.

The contract came and went with little fanfare as he was barely able to throw a pitch for the team during it. Everyone was convinced he'd take a paycut to "make it up to the team" during contract negotiations and when he didn't, he quickly became the object of much scorn throughout Southern California.

Fast forward a bit to the arrival of the Mitchell Report and the news that Dodger fans had dreaded all along. Evidence that Gagne had received shipments of HGH. And even worse, fellow Cindarella story teammate Paul LoDuca seemed to be the man who started him on that path. We even got salt rubbed in the wounds with an e-mail from a Boston scout clearly stating that "steroids is the problem."

Sigh.

And so it goes. After reading that, I never thought I could feel pity for Gagne's career again however when he was released during spring training, I thought that a pity signing might be in order. What could it hurt after all?

Occasionally, you'd hear a whisper about him rehabbing his latest injury but this is the first full-length story I've seen on him in a while. It really is a sad story and while part of me still has a lot of bitterness towards him, this story goes a long way towards soothing old wounds.

Here are a couple excerpts that I found most interesting...

On the day Manny Ramirez would make his comeback before tens of thousands of adoring fans -- in enemy territory, no less -- Gagne sat at a table for two at a riverfront cafe, in this weathered city more than 400 years old, and more than 400 miles from the nearest big league outpost.

He wore a black Ed Hardy T-shirt. He ate his poutine -- the Quebec delicacy of fries topped with gravy and cheese -- in peace. No one asked him for an autograph.

This is a long way to go to get away from the Mitchell Report and start over.

This is home. These are the people who nurtured him, who dropped coins into a bucket to help pay his way to college, who packed the stadium here and gave him a standing ovation just for coming home to pitch, for the Quebec Capitales of the independent Can-Am League.

L.A. was home too, once upon a time. We wore goggles and goatees, sweat-stained caps and "Game Over" shirts. We went nuts for the record-setting 84 consecutive saves and for the Cy Young Award, for "Welcome to the Jungle" and for the best show in town.

"The electricity was unreal," Gagne said. "I never thought that was possible in baseball.

"Those were the best days of my life. I think about them every day."

Or this one...

The details might be sparse, but the remorse is genuine.

"I've been straightforward about everything. It [stinks] that I can't be about this," he said. "I'm not looking for sympathy anyway.

"I have to live with this the rest of my life. I'm going to have to explain this to my kids. It's going to be on my resume the rest of my life."

He volunteers that he is a role model for kids -- and not just his four kids, none older than 8. He is a model for what not to do, whatever that might have been.

"I hope I serve as an example," Gagne said. "You don't want to be in my shoes.

"This is hell. I've still got to talk about it."

His three best seasons, the ones in which he recorded the 84 consecutive saves, were the last three before baseball instituted a drug policy and initiated mandatory suspensions for first offenders.

Did Dodgers fans -- the ones that paid good money for tickets and "Game Over" memorabilia -- get an honest performance in return?

"To me, yes," Gagne said. "I can guarantee I worked harder than anybody.

Or one last one...

Gagne is in Quebec to revive his career. He is trying to work his way back from a partially torn rotator cuff, with four appearances so far and a fastball Laplante put at 84-87 mph. He should get stronger, and presumably better, and if so he could get a minor league contract in August, or a spring training invitation next year.

He is in baseball limbo here, not because of the Mitchell Report, but because of his shoulder. What was once a national outrage over baseball's steroid era has evolved into a national fatigue.

If Ramirez hits, Dodgers fans cheer.

"Everybody makes mistakes," Gagne said. "You keep going. You do what you do. What Manny does best is hit balls. Manny is an entertainer. That's not just in L.A. It's anywhere. If you're a fan . . . you want to see something special."

There was no better entertainer in L.A. than Gagne, back in the day.

"That's why I keep going to the ballpark," he said. "I'm searching for that again."

Gagne relives it every day. His 5-year-old son scampers about in a Dodgers cap. His 3-year-old daughter is named Bluu -- yes, he said, for Dodger blue.

Like I said, a sad story. I might be alone in my pity for the man who once thrilled us all but... well, if Mr. Ramirez gets a second chance...