You Can Stick a Forkball in Nomomania: It’s Done

Once, there were flashbulbs, hundreds of them, lighting the Chavez Ravine sky with each dramatic windup.

Now, the flicker in Hide Nomo’s life is a boo.

Once, he won an award named for Jackie Robinson, joined a club that included Sandy Koufax, finished third in a poll to the Japanese prime minister.

Now, he gives up line-drive singles to Pete Harnisch and is replaced by Mike Weaver.

Once, Nomomania applied to all those infatuated with the Dodgers’ dominating Japanese pitcher.

Now, it applies to anyone who would be silly enough to trade for him.

Here’s hoping the Seattle Mariners catch a bad case of it, and quick.

What if the Dodgers threw in 100 mini-cams and an interpreter?

All sorts of desperate thoughts bounced around the room Saturday as a lovely spring afternoon was ruined by a former hero who may suddenly be in the autumn of his career.

For an excruciating hour and 15 minutes at Dodger Stadium, Hideo Nomo was again more baffling to the Dodgers than the other guys, allowing the Cincinnati Reds six runs in less than four innings in a 7-3 loss.

The good news is, he made it out of the first inning, something that didn’t happen earlier this season in Chicago. And, hey, he didn’t walk seven as he did during his last start in Houston.

The bad news is, he hasn’t won a game in a month, the Dodgers have lost nine of his 12 starts, and he appears unable to make it all better.

When asked about future adjustments Saturday, Nomo said through an interpreter, “I’m not going to do anything different.”

That being the case, he had better start pitching in overalls.

His 55-foot forkballs dig up the ground between the mound and home plate.

His concerned bosses dig up the infield running between the dugout and the mound.

Either that, or the Dodgers need to designate each of his starts as Helmet Day. Not only for fans, but terrorized fielders.

The Reds hit the ball hard in every direction Saturday, then explained it with wide eyes and big smiles.

Said catcher Eddie Taubensee: “He’s not throwing as hard as he did last year. You lay off his forkball, and just wait for his fastball.”

Said outfielder Reggie Sanders: “I remember him throwing a lot harder. He has to adjust, but maybe it’s hard to relate that to him.”

What Nomo has related to the Dodgers is simpler than all that.

With a fastball that has slowed after elbow surgery, and a forkball that spoons, the 29-year-old pitcher has gotten old, fast.

In his first two seasons with the Dodgers, he was 29-17 with a 2.90 ERA.

In the last two seasons, he has gone 16-19 with a 4.55 ERA.

He has become more distraction than attraction, going from a regular wonder to a constant worry.

Maybe his arm is simply wearing down after throwing the difficult forkball for nine seasons, including five in Japan.

Maybe, while favoring the repaired elbow, he has developed a shoulder problem he won’t acknowledge. He wouldn’t be the first pitcher to hide something.

Maybe it’s all this trade talk involving him, which was effectively killed Saturday when a Mariner scout was unfortunately sitting close enough to get blood on his shirt.

The only way the Mariners send Randy Johnson to the Dodgers for Nomo now is if the Dodgers throw in Vin Scully.

Maybe Nomo, who has told teammates he wants to stay, was thinking about all of this.

“It has to affect you,” Gary Sheffield said. “I’ve been through it. It’s something you never want to hear.”

Whatever is happening, the worst part is, the Dodgers don’t know what to do about it.

Trade him? Been there, tried that.

Put Nomo in the bullpen? With that control?

On Saturday, he threw first-pitch balls to half of his 20 batters. He threw at least two balls to 12 of those batters.

In the old days, when he was throwing a no-hitter in Denver or striking out 17 Florida Marlins, they swung at that low forkball because they were afraid of his fastball.

These days, it is just another low pitch.

Maybe the Dodgers could go to a four-man rotation, only start Nomo when absolutely necessary, and let him work out his troubles as a mop-up man.

The problem with that is, Nomo apparently doesn’t think he has any troubles.

When asked about his current 2-7 record, he said, “That’s not something that bothers me at all.”

When asked about the boos, which began only 40 minutes into the game, after he gave up a two-run double by .216-hitting Jon Nunnally, he said, “That’s something that can’t be helped.”

Obviously, part of what Nomo says is always lost in the translation. It is unfair to interpret his comments as meaning he doesn’t care.

(Even though it can still be asked, why hasn’t he used some of his $2.7-million annual salary for language lessons?)

But while Nomo speaks more English with his teammates, Dodger officials basically get what we get.

A smile, a shrug, a promise to keep working, and absolutely no answers.

All this on a day when they could have used some.

The Dodgers lost a wall-slammer late Friday night, blowing a two-run lead with two out in the ninth inning. Twelve hours later, they needed somebody to shake them awake, close the wound, push them into Sunday.

Used to be, Nomo was that somebody.

Come to think of it, so were Ismael Valdes and Chan Ho Park.

Johnsonmania cannot come a day too soon.