John Erardi

jerardi@enquirer.com

Billy Hamilton ran a long way for that bases-loaded "dying quail" (might as well use the old-school term, considering what's to come) on Wednesday in San Diego.

It was difficult to tell on TV how far "in" he had been playing at the time, but it looked like he ran a lot farther to his left than he did "in" to try to get to that ball in shallow right-center.

Before the Reds departed for the long road trip to the West Coast by way of Chicago, Hamilton told me that the Reds pitchers, particularly the starters, like him playing shallow.

Mike Leake reiterated that after his gutty performance over Toronto two Saturdays ago .

"If there's a ball hit over his head (especially at Great American Ball Park), it's either off the wall or over the fence," Leake said. "When you have that speed, you can cheat a little bit. He's good at going back on balls."

Over the years, the same has been true with all the great center fielders, from Willie Mays to Jim Edmonds and Andruw Jones and the Reds' Eric Davis.

But it goes back even farther than that.

I related an anecdote to Hamilton that dates back to 1937.

New York Yankees pitching great Lefty Gomez was talking to rookie center fielder Joe DiMaggio one day after a game the Yankees had lost on a deep drive that one-hopped the center field wall at Yankee Stadium.

Gomez: "How come you were playing so shallow on that one, Joe?"

DiMaggio: "I'm gonna make 'em forget Tris Speaker."

Gomez: "You keep playing there, you're gonna make 'em forget Lefty Gomez."

News flash to Lefty: They've already forgotten you -- or at least Hamilton has; he didn't seem to recognize the name, and I'm not sure he even recognized the name of DiMaggio, either -- but he laughed at the story, because he got the point.

Almost four score years later, the Gomez-DiMaggio story still resonates.

Hamilton has gone to most of the Reds pitchers and told them that he'd like to play shallow.

"They've all said, 'Do it,'" recalled Hamilton. "Cueto and Homer (Bailey) have told me point blank, 'If they hit it over your head, it's my fault.' That gives me the confidence to play shallow. The pitchers hate the cheapies. They'd rather give up something hit hard than a broken-bat blooper."

If the Major League Baseball All-Star Game really was -- at its heart -- a battleground to determine which league will get home-field advantage in the World Series, Hamilton would be on the National League team, because he's a potential difference-maker late the game coming off the bench to run the bases or play center field.

Of course, home-field in the World Series really isn't what the All-Star Game is all about. That it partly sells itself as such is going to go down in history as one of the goofier things Commissioner Bud Selig has done on a long list of mostly good things.

But for all of the misplaced emphasis, baseball still has the best All-Star Game of all the major sports. And, as good a year as Todd Frazier and Hamilton are having (I believe Hamilton will end up National League Rookie of the Year, especially if he has as good a second half as he did first half), I'd rather see them make the All-Star Game next year, because next year the All-Star Game is in Cincinnati.

Still, Frazier deserves it this year, and it will be shame if the fallacy of the fan voting winds up keeping him out.

Meanwhile, the Mississippi Kid reminds me of DiMaggio in another way besides playing shallow.

Hamilton so rarely has to dive for a ball, that when he does, you know he's run a country mile to get there. He has his pitchers thinking ''can of corn'' even when the batters hit a bolt into the gap. Anything less than a laser, Hamilton is going to get there.

Another true story…

This from a longtime visitor to Yankee Stadium, circa 1950: ''DiMaggio isn't that great of a center fielder. I been coming here for 14 years and he ain't had a tough chance yet.''

So it is with Hamilton. He makes the difficult look easy, and the next-to-impossible look expected.

But as we were reminded Wednesday, even Hamilton with his speed and instincts can't always get to everything. He has the occasional tough chance.

By his incredibly high standards, he should have had that dying quail last Wednesday -- and he knows it. The ground didn't dislodge that ball from his glove; the ball hit the heel of his glove and was gone before his arm ever hit the ground.

The most interesting thing about that play is that we all thought he could and should have had it – even though for the past 12-14 years, various Reds pedestrian center fielders would have gathered that ball up on the second hop and nobody would have thought twice about it.

"I don't take my at-bats out to the outfield," Hamilton explained. "That's why I'm so aggressive out there. I know the other team is trying to keep me off the bases -- trying to keep me from getting my hits -- so why shouldn't do everything I can to keep their guys off the bases? You get me out, I'm going to do everything I can to get you out."

Hamilton said that being able to contribute so much defensively has calmed him down at the plate a little bit, because he's able to help the pitchers even on days when might not get a hit.

"Me and Hatch (outfield coach Billy Hatcher) talk about it all the time," Hamilton said. "A good defensive center field can play the game a long time. I figure if I can keep improving my defense, good things are going to happen."

Besides, trying to pin the blame for Wednesday's loss in San Diego on Hamilton would be wrongheaded, anyway. The Reds offense was held scoreless for the second time in three days. It wouldn't have mattered who had been pitching for the Reds -- Koufax, Johnson (either of them) or Mathewson. They'd have gone 0-3 with that lack of run support.

OK, I told Hamilton, how about we bring the historical comparisons a little more up-to-date? I told him the Reds center fielder he reminds me of most is Eric Davis.

Hamilton's eyes lit up.

Now there was a "comp" to which he could relate. Davis has been one of Hamilton's mentors. Davis was signed as a shortstop also, but the Reds quickly moved him to center field because of his speed.

And, yet, Davis – just like Hamilton does today -- played center field like a shortstop. Why? Because of his arm and instinct.

I mentioned to Hamilton the play Davis made in Pittsburgh in the 1990 National League Championship Series, when he came out of nowhere (he was playing left field that day), and backed up center fielder Billy Hatcher on a blast to center, taking the carom off the wall like a shortstop and gunning out the runner at third.

"Eric is one of the main guys who has helped me," said Hamilton, smiling. "Soon as they told me they wanted to switch me to center field, I went straight to E.D. He's made it a lot easier for me than I thought it was going to be."

Hamilton admits he didn't like at first being told he was being switched to center.

"I'd been playing shortstop my whole life," he said. "But when they said, 'It will help you get to the big leagues quicker,' I thought, 'OK, that's what I'm here for.' And now I like it.

"It feels good out there. Got a lot of space. But I'll admit it: I miss shortstop every now and then. Who knows, I might get a shot at shortstop in the late innings someday."

If it happens, just hope the hitter doesn't hit a dying quail to right-center. Only one Red has a chance to make the play, and his name is Billy Hamilton.