Thursday, Sept. 23, 2004 | 10:36 a.m.
Ron Kantowski is a Las Vegas Sun sports writer. Reach him at [email protected] or (702) 259-4088.
It's too bad Dave Ross didn't come up to the big leagues through the Rangers' organization instead of with the Dodgers. Because if that were the case, Ross, a backup catcher, probably would have been sitting in the Texas bullpen last week, close to where those Oakland fans were needling Rangers pitchers Doug Brocail and Frank "Folding Chair" Francisco, and chances are an innocent bystander wouldn't have left ballpark with her nose rearranged.
Ross doesn't have a neat baseball nickname, principally because backup catchers not named Bob Uecker seldom are bestowed with one. But Dave "Cool Head" Ross would certainly be appropriate, based on his actions on a chilly May evening in Portland a couple of years ago.
Ross, then tearing up PCL pitching as a member of the 51s, was getting a ration of nonstop grief from a couple of young hecklers at PGE Park. An e-mail I received from a fan who was sitting within earshot described the hecklers as "punks" who were "unmerciful" on Ross as the game wore on.
Late in the game, she said Ross emerged from the dugout and started in the direction of the hooligans. She feared a hockey game was about to break out.
"Instead, I witnessed something completely unexpected," wrote Vicki Ballou, who was sitting with her husband and son near Ross and his leather-lunged critics. "Ross stood there until he caught the boys' attention. He then tossed a ball to them, smiled, and returned to his warm-up routine.
"After a moment of stunned silence, the boys began yelling, this time even louder. But this time, the chants were 'Ross, you're the man!' and 'Ross, we love you.' "
As Ballou noted, "At a time when people are becoming increasingly disillusioned with professional athletes, a 25-year-old catcher named Dave Ross demonstrated what true character and sportsmanship really mean."
Well, Vicki, if you're reading, I want you know that Dave Ross is still a nice guy. With the Giants breathing down the Dodgers' necks like Bela Lugosi on a foggy night, he took the trouble to return my phone call. Just like Barry Bonds would.
"I'm not saying that I have always handled those (situations) the right way," Ross said, politely shrugging off praise of his amateur psychologist skills. "But I learned something that night.
"Basically it got to the point where they were ragging me so much. Then a foul ball came my way and I looked right at them and tossed them the ball. Then they started cheering for me. That showed me what can happen when you turn things around.
"Sometimes, you have to swallow your pride to do it but you can turn it around and put it back on them (fans). Then they feel bad and say, 'What am I yelling at this guy for?' "
Ross said he couldn't comment too much about what happened in Oakland because he wasn't there and only saw the SportsCenter lowlights.
"But the whole chair thing ..." he said in amazement. "Fans can sometimes push it too far but you've got to let it go because the fan is always going to get in the last word, anyway."
He might get an argument from a couple of his teammates, at least the ones who were with the Dodgers a couple of years back and went into the stands at Wrigley Field with the express purpose of retrieving catcher Chad Krueter's cap, after a fan near the visitors' bullpen had snatched it from his head.
"We made a mistake," said Dodgers manager Jim Tracy, who was a coach with the team then. "We lost a hat, and we went over the wall to get it back. We've got plenty of hats."
They've also got plenty of balls. At least in the literal sense. That's why tossing one to a belligerent fan may be the best course of action, even if that fan insists that your momma wears army boots.
That's what Dave Ross learned in Portland when he turned a couple of morons with potty-mouths into his personal fan club.
Frank Francisco apparently didn't get it. He could have left the ballpark a hero. Which is always preferred to leaving it in handcuffs.
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