SECTION: SPORTS; Pg. 84 BLEACHER CREATURE

LENGTH: 576 words

HEADLINE: BREATH OF FRESH AIR OF CREATURES

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:
I was getting a little bored with the whole thing, and the Section 39ers were growing more than a little tired of chatting with the Filip Creature. I mean, how many World Series can you win together before the old magic just isn't there anymore?

So to add a little spice to this reportorial relationship, I dragged Lisa Olson along to the secret, pregame bodega gathering. (Who did you expect, Mike Lupica?) Well, let me tell you, the Creatures were exceptionally well-behaved in the presence of such a distinguished visitor. Except for the occasional obscenity or boastful tale of utter dissolution, you would have thought we were all upper grandstand reserved people.

Milton Ousland played his cowbell. Mike Marsh, aka Knoblauch, offered Lisa a Snapple, even if he hadn't actually paid for the drink.

"They were nice gentlemen," Lisa decided. "And they gave me candy - probably laced with cyanide."

Oh, sure, get in your little shot. But the Creatures can make quite the impression, when we want. Which is why we continue to bristle at the notion that, somehow, we haven't earned the right to our own float in the annual championship parade, still scheduled for early next week.

This issue really burns. Last year, Bald Vinny managed to hustle a float sponsorship to the tune of $10,000, and still we were denied our place by unknown bureaucratic forces.

"We're working on it, but we can't get a stupid float," said Anthony Griek, who looked very much like himself but insisted he was dressed "as a lunatic" for Halloween. "What do they think we're going to do? Curse at people while we ride past them?"

Well, yes, there are probably people who think that. But they don't have a float, either, and therefore don't really matter in the grand scheme of things.

In the meantime, Game 4 last night figured to be louder in the bleachers than Game 3, when we were all thrown off our chants by the George W. Bush security measures. We are used to getting patted down by now. But when they started waving metal wands around our legs, it kind of freaked us out.

Personally, I skipped Game 3 to cover the Michael Jordan game. When explaining this misdeed to my fellow Creatures, I blamed it all on my sports editor, as I do everything in my life that I don't blame on Mrs. Creature.

I find that having two scapegoats, one professional and one personal, comes in very handy.

I'm not sure my friends bought into the alibi. All they knew was there had been a Daily News on the stands without a Bleacher Creature column, and they didn't like it. It had practically ruined their game.

The Creatures are always in search of the perfect game, not necessarily of the Don Larsen variety. Mike Donahue came pretty close to pitching one for Game 5 of the ALCS, when he found himself at a bar in New Rochelle several hours after the game, drinking with Bill Buckner.

According to Donahue - and that is quite the disclaimer - Buckner had been autographing balls across the street at a mall before walking into the same bar.

"Of course, I had to buy the guy a beer, being the fact that he is the single reason we still get to chant, '1918,' instead of '1986,' " Donahue said. "We both agreed the Mets still stink."

Oh, for a Met to demean in right field. We still can't quite figure what to chant at the Diamondbacks. It's almost not worth it anymore. By the time we compose the perfect heckle, they probably won't exist.

E-mail: fjbondy@netscape.net

LOAD-DATE: November 1, 2001