Surviving on Needles and Pins : Show Delivered Into Hands of Andre and His Army

CHICAGO — Extradition. That’s what happened to Padre pitcher Eric Show Thursday.

They had been waiting more than 10 months at Wrigley Field for Show to return to the scene of his alleged crime.

There was no sniper fire. Nobody threw at anybody’s head. No assassinations. Not even a cherry bomb tossed into the Padre dugout.

No arrests.

But that didn’t make it any easier for Show, who wore earplugs during batting practice and a worried look throughout this longest day.

Last July 7, a Show fastball had made a sickening noise at home plate when it smacked Cub outfielder Andre Dawson’s face.

Thursday, Show showed his face on the same field for the first time since the Cub fans and the media of this city tried, convicted and hung him in effigy.

Show said it was an accident when he hit Dawson last year. Nobody in Chicago wanted to believe it. Dawson is more popular here than springtime. He had been on a tear against the Padres at the time.

Dawson recovered from relatively minor facial injuries and became the league’s most valuable player. But none of that mattered Thursday.

Two hours before the first pitch, a man strolled along Addison Street outside the ballpark carrying a near-life-sized doll dressed in a Padre uniform. In his other hand he offered a large pincushion with hundreds of pins to anybody who walked past.

“Stick it to Eric Show,” said Jerry Pritikin, 51.

That’s right, folks. We’re talking voodoo here.

Pritikin is the self-proclaimed chaplain of “Andre’s Army.” He wears a pith helmet with a tiny propeller on top. But that didn’t stop the locals from taking part in his witchcraft.

When a man, a woman and their son ambled by, Pritikin implored them to “be a family that sticks together.” They did. The mother plunged her pin deep into Doll Eric’s hindquarters.

Moments later, a man drove a pin deep into Doll Eric’s heart. Pritikin asked him how it felt.

“I’ll sleep better tonight,” the man said.

The pins came in five colors: yellow, white, red, black and blue.

Each pin had an explanation written on a poster, which also was held by Pritikin:

Yellow--”Stick Show in his right winger.”

White--”Give Eric an early shower in acid rain.”

Red--”I love to hate Padre fans.”

Black--”I still love to hate Garvey.”

Blue--”I’m sticking up for Andre and the Cubs in ’88.”

Pritikin cited Show’s remarks, printed in Thursday’s Chicago Sun-Times, as justification for his exercise.

“He said we were nasty, dirty and boisterous,” Pritikin said. “ . . . We are boisterous.”

Nobody seemed concerned that Pritikin might be inciting a riot. An amused smile played about the mouth of a security guard when he was informed of Doll Eric. Pritikin insisted that the purpose of Doll Eric was to “release the hostilities of the fans before the game.”

“There are always going to be people on the fringe,” Show said after the game.

Tom Cooper, the Cubs’ director of stadium operations, said he increased security precautions by a few guards near the Padres’ dugout. He reported no death threats. The crowd of 15,638 was normal in size for a mid-May afternoon.

When the Padre team bus arrived at Wrigley Field, Pritikin was there to meet it. Show saw him and blew him a kiss. Other Padres said they had seen Pritikin’s dolls before.

Deja vu-doo.

“People do whatever they want to do,” Show said. “I can handle that. Not that you like to see it.”

Show-bashing had become so fashionable in Chicago that even Steve Stone, the usually mild-mannered Cub broadcaster, got into the act. “Purina Dog Show,” was the phrase he used when Show’s name crept into a pregame conversation.

Stone is a former Cub and once won a Cy Young Award pitching for the Baltimore Orioles. His advice to Show: “Get a clocking in the 100-yard dash. If it’s not less than 10 seconds, pitch Andre outside.”

The visiting bullpen at Wrigley Field is located just inside the box seats that hug the right-field foul line. The fans can practically reach out and touch the pitchers there.

“You got nothing, Show!” shouted one during warmups. “Nothing!” There were other mild insults.

Show ignored them all. But pitching coach Pat Dobson shot a series of return glares that made the mythical Medusa look like Doris Day by comparison.

First time up, Show got Dawson on a sharp grounder to third. Third baseman Randy Ready made a diving stop on the play. In the fourth, Dawson struck out on a checked swing. He grounded to Ready again in the sixth before Show departed.

Show walked in his first appearance at the plate and grounded out in his only other.

Trailing, 1-0, Padre Manager Larry Bowa lifted Show for a pinch-hitter in the seventh. Show’s line: 6 innings pitched, 6 hits, 1 earned run, 1 walk and 3 strikeouts.

In the end, the luckless Padres suffered their 11th loss in 12 games, 2-1, in 10 innings.

For the record, Show hit nobody and pitched inside to Dawson only once. No Cub pitcher threw inside to Show. Nobody hit a home run.

Cub coach Jimmy Piersall said of Dawson: “He’s tough. But he doesn’t want to fight. He just wants to play ball.”

That’s the same Piersall who once ran around the bases backward after homering off Dallas Green.

The umpiring crew of Jim Quick, Eric Gregg, John Kibler and Dave Pallone had to be wondering what they did to deserve this game. They are the same umpires who were working in Cincinnati when a near riot over a disputed call forced Pallone from the playing field. That was the game for which Red Manager Pete Rose earned a 30-day suspension.

Actually, Gregg was a no-show because of the flu. It was a tough day for anybody named Eric.

Gregg’s small consolation came from the knowledge that nobody was sticking pins in his likeness.