SECTION: SPORTS; Pg. 72 BLEACHER CREATURE

LENGTH: 600 words

HEADLINE: BROIL BURGERS, THEN PUT HEAT ON ICHIRO

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:
It isn't easy for Creatures to hold a tailgate party, because it requires a certain organizing skill that does not necessarily play to our strength.

But it was such a beautiful day, and we had a game to throw away (which we did, 14-3), so we did our best. Jeremy donated a keg, which we rigged to work with a pair of pliers. A grill was purchased. Bald Ray was specifically told to buy charcoal that did not require lighter fluid, only to come back with the opposite. So we had to go out and find the fluid. Eventually, everything came together on the rooftop of the parking lot next to the Stadium, where the Yankees were toasted, the Mariners mocked, and plans readied for the World Series. When two cops came by to tell us that barbecues were illegal, they were nice enough to say we could finish what we started.

"Joke's on them," said Sheriff Tom Brown, wearing his, "Chicks Dig Me," T-shirt. "We have five hours' worth of food started."

Poor Seattle. That city has become the latest, insignificant burg to live under the self-delusion it may someday be considered a legitimate baseball rival, the target of our derision.

The problem is, we have no rivals.

The Celtics had the Lakers. The Canadiens had the Maple Leafs. We have . . . nobody. We must continue to strive for excellence in the vacuum that is Major League Baseball, forever envied by pathetic fans of vastly inferior franchises.

Boston can't stay within 10 games of us. The Mets are miserable bumblers, too-easy targets. Atlanta folds every fall like wrapping paper.

"It's like this is pool, and we're just playing the table," Steve Krauss said. "And every once in a while, the same losers come around again to challenge you."

Which brings us back to Seattle, a town that persists in reliving its 1995 triumph over us in a measly division series. Heck, its voters built a whole new stadium just to commemorate the event. Safeco Field is Seattle's Arc de Triomphe.

A few of us, like Milton (Cowbell Man) Ousland, still won't forgive the Mariners for eliminating Don Mattingly. But they have suffered appropriately over the years. Five years after losing to Cleveland in the ALCS, the Mariners were thoroughly drubbed by us last year and haven't won anything of importance, ever.

"Rain and Kurt Cobain on the brain," Anthony Griek said. "That's about it."

Griek, by the way, brought his mother to the game and decided to sit in the upper deck.

"Think I'd bring her to the bleachers?" he said. "Are you crazy?"

Back on the roof, other Creatures agreed that they probably would not bring their own mothers to Section 39, if it could at all be avoided. And then, we turned our attention to the recent ravings by Lou Piniella, once a favorite.

"He had no right to say we bought our pitching," Tina Lewis said. "At one time, I used to like Lou. He should know, though, there's a very thin line between love and hate."

If nothing else, the Mariners offered up a novelty for human sacrifice below us in right field - Ichiro Suzuki. During the regular season, the Creatures carefully researched several heckles in Japanese to chant mercilessly at Ichiro.

Some of those chants were hopelessly, politically incorrect. They should not be repeated here. Others, more harmless, arrived yesterday with Marc Chalpin of Manhattan on a well-researched sheet. These were only naughty.

"Baka," the Creatures chanted. That supposedly meant, "Stupid." "Mukatsuku," for, "Make me sick."

Nobody was quite certain of the pronunciation. We plan to be better prepared for Game 4, when we get serious again.

E-mail: fjbondy@netscape.net

LOAD-DATE: October 22, 2001