SPORTS of the 'CRIME'

In the eighth inning of yesterday's humiliation at Fenway Park, Tiger shortstop Ray Oyler struck in vain at a Sparky Lyle slant. It was his third such failure, so Sox catcher Elston Howard whipped the ball in the general direction of Dalton Jones and third base, as custom dictates. Unfortunately, Jones was busy in the short-stop hole, retrieving the bat which had flown from the fanning Oyler's hands. Howard's throw flew unchallenged into Carl Yastrzemski's pasture where it died on the soggy grass. Yaz started in, stopped, wagged his head both in shame and disgust, and elected to ignore the ball. And, that, shockingly and painfully, was the tone of a sad home opener--Boston looked like the Mets, or, worse, like Red Sox teams of the first half of this decade.

Symbolic

At first the symbolic reality of the pennant was enough for the 30,000 faithful. The appropriate dignataries said the appropriate things, Commissioner Eckert made some awards to the most fulfilled of the Red Sox dreamers, a Vietnam veteran threw out the first ball to Howard, who caught it.

But soon it was clear that the Man from La Mancha theme will be like Auld Lange Syne by mid-season. The only merriment for Boston rooters came in the ninth inning.

With one out and Detroit batting, two vacationing tykes broke over the right field barricade and raced across the outfield to Yaz in left. The three shook hands all around and chatted for a moment, before the Fenway cops menaced. A few minutes later, two left field youths vaulted their barricade to meet the understanding idol. Then there was another pair from right, greeting Joe LaHoud (welcoming the rookie to Fenway no doubt), shaking with Reggie Smith (who gave them a friendly pat with his glove) and then approaching the altar in front of the Green Monster.

Kiddy Riot

This time Yaz refused to greet the interlopers, but, heeding the Riot Commission Report, rebuffed them only gently. It was too late. As the Park and City police and the dwindling crowd watched in disbelief, the lawlessness, the disregard for property which has convulsed the nation at large, came to Yawkey's Yard. Perhaps a hundred grade-schoolers, led by a spindly-legged eight-year-old girl, spilled onto the field from all directions and advanced on their general like a children's crusade. Yaz backed warily against the Wall, but the worshippers rolled on. Two groundskeepers were dispatched to protect the superstar.

Then, to the ironic delight of the depressed Sox fans, the public address announcer pleaded for the kids to clear the field, "or the Red Sox will forfeit." This with the score 9-2. But the sheep-like horde dispersed and the groundskeepers intimidated a few of the ringleaders. So everyone went home with the sorow of defeat a bit relieved.