1988 season set the standard for game length, excitabilityNow that basketball and hockey have crowned their champions, the focus of the sporting world is on baseball. The Olympics will come and go in a few weeks, but baseball will remain with us all summer. That's the bad news.

I saw a broken-bat home run the other day, but as Keith Olberman would say, "The ball isn't juiced though." When teams average 27 runs a game, I long for the old days (like 10 years ago) when a ball game routinely ended 3-2 in under three hours, when pitching was the key to the game, not Coors Field.

Whatever happened to Orel Hershiser's 59 consecutive scoreless innings in 1988? While we're on the subject, why are there so many ex-Dodgers on all-star teams in the World Series? That's another story though.

The year 1988 still perplexes me. Not Hershiser's record or Canseco's 40/40 season (40 home runs used to be a big thing), or the way Mike Scioscia used to block the plate (Piazza?), but something Peter Gammons may have never thought of.

We all know about Kirk Gibson's home run in the bottom of the ninth in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series ­ a bad hamstring, a bad knee, a one and two count, two outs, trailing 4-3 and a man on base against Dennis Eckersley.

That man-on-base, Mike Davis, is all but forgotten, but it is he that could have been equally as famous.

Davis batted before and drew a walk. He stood on first base as Gibson fouled off pitch after pitch, and then Davis, who had marginal speed at best, took off for second and was safe without a throw.

The problem is why there was no throw. The pitch was way outside and Gibson leaned across the plate in order to watch the ball all the way into the catcher's mitt. A's catcher Ron Hassey caught the pitch, but when he jumped up to throw out Davis, he couldn't get the throw off. Gibson had ventured right in front of him. It should have been batter's interference: game over.

Perhaps if it wasn't the World Series and Gibson wasn't the National League MVP, the umpire would have made the correct call. Hassey can clearly be seen looking at the umpire for the interference call, but to no avail.

If Hassey were to get the throw off, Davis probably would have been tagged out. Davis was past his prime (I could have hit that 3-0 fastball out of the park like he did in Game 5) and got only an average jump on the pitch. Dodger manager Tommy Lasorda had to send Davis in hopes of putting the tying run in scoring position, but Davis would have never made it safely.

I sound like an A's fan, or worse, a Giants fan, but in fact, even though the heavier version won more ball games, I still love Tommy and bleed Dodger Blue. In fairness though, the "Big Dodger in the Sky" was definitely looking down upon Chavez Ravine that October evening.

Batter interference wasn't called and Gibson hit the next pitch into the right field pavilion. As Gibson was yanking his arm as he rounded second, most forgot about Davis and his stolen base. But with way too much free time on my hands, I actually dismantled a moment in baseball lore.

Now that I think about, I should shut up. The old days of pure baseball, when a gimp can win a World Series game, are over. Now we get to watch grown men get paid for playing over-the-line and home-run derby.

Scott Yabroff is a Daily Bruin sports columnist.