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Julian Tavarez. Like Seattle's Joey Cora in the previous playoff round and like Ralph Branca in another era, the Indians' brilliant rookie righthander cried uncontrollably in the dugout after Game 6. He didn't know the camera was on him. That was pure, old-fashioned passion for his profession. Let's have more of that.

Kenny vs. Marquis. Baseball survived its first wild-card autumn, with the best of the American League going on to meet the best of the National League. And one prominent symbol of that was the top-level matchup presented by the leadoff hitters and center fielders for both clubs.

In Game 3, the Indians' Kenny Lofton reached base in all six plate appearances and stole one base to help prevent a sweep. He demonstrated his game-changing speed during the Series, and at one point seemed certain to be Series MVP if the Indians won. Lofton, so often overshadowed on a deep club, was turning this into his showcase.

But as the Series wore on and Lofton's bat quieted, the Braves' Marquis Grissom emerged as the most valuable pickup of Montreal's most recent free-agent defectors. (All four big-name signees reached the postseason: Lan Walker helped the Rockies to the first round, John Wetteland gave up a grand slam to Edgar Martinez in the Yankees' division-series loss, and Ken Hill made two World Series appearances for the Tribe.) Grissom batted.360 (9 for 25) in the Series and hit safely in all 14 postseason games. His 25 postseason hits broke the record of 24 set by Marty Barrett of Boston in 1986, when there was one fewer round. Except for a brain-locked steal attempt in Game 1, Grissom had a series worthy of Tom Glavine's MVP trophy.

"I don't pay attention to that stuff," Grissom said, when asked if he was trying to match Lofton's pace. "I'm trying to win. Individual stats have nothing to do with it. ... It's about getting breaks and it's turning the concentration level up."

The Jake. In a perfect world, there not only would be a World Series every fall but also one that visits a place like Jacobs Field. This is the kind of ballpark Indians fans would have to frequent even if the club reverts to misery. It's no wonder Detroit is charging ahead toward a replacement for ancient Tigers Stadium, the Brewers and Mariners are ready to construct grass yards, N.L. President Leonard Coleman wants Kevin McClatchy, once officially named owner, to get the Pirates a replacement for Three Rivers Stadium. Unfortunately, any repeat by the Braves would have to happen at old Fulton County Stadium again, because their future home that will open for next summer's Olympics won't be conformed to baseball standards until the 1997 season.

Dem Braves. This is the 30th anniversary of the Braves' first season in Atlanta and 40th of the year the Brooklyn Dodgers finally broke through against the Yankees (TSN, October 9). Seeing Steve Avery spraying champagne was reminiscent of Carl Erskine doing the same. That was Brooklyn's only world champ, and this is Atlanta's first.

Sparky Mortimer, his blond hair disheveled after an impossibly late night for a 9-year-old, stepped onto the elevator with his father, Dave. Together we rode down to the lobby of our Cleveland hotel, about to check out as the World Series shifted back to Atlanta.

Sparky, I could see, was awake and wide-eyed, living a childhood dream. David Letterman had dispatched him from Alpine, Utah, to baseball's on-again showcase. The kid had been handed a mike that was nearly as tall as him and had been tamed loose in the clubhouses. He had asked Fred McGriff at his locker, "Can I look at your stuff?" Sparky had dumbfounded Jim Thome by asking, "Do you engage in hijinx?" (Inside info: The question was planted in Sparky's ear by a CBS grown-up.)

Deep down, though, I felt only sympathy for Sparky. Here was one lucky and impressionable kid, and almost right away Eddie Murray "blowed me off." That was just a warmup in the Indians' den; Murray is at least polite in declining interviews. The worst thing about Sparky's World Series experience was Albert Belle. He treated the little correspondent about the same way he treated the rest of us, although fortunately not with the same color commentary he had broadcast to NBC's Hannah Storm. Belle had cussed her out in his now-infamous dugout reporter-purge before Game 3, an incident that drew Major League Baseball's wrath and symbolized way he feels about not only the average journalist but also the average fan.

"Albert wouldn't give him the time of day," Dave Mortimer was saying as Sparky hid shyly behind his legs. "Unbelievable. But you know, the guy I feel most sorry for is Albert Belle. This is the World Series, and he should be having the time of his life. He's not."

Belle, who once threw a ball at a fan and is known to have corked at least one bat, embrassed his sport at the worst possible time. Unable to find a clue on the labor front, Major League Baseball at least has sought this year to rekindle a relationship with the public. Belle did nothing but remained those who were rediscovering the game why they had spent their discretionary income elsewhere in 1995. He just doesn't get it, doesn't understand that fans pay his salary and that media mirror his image and all society's. Bud Selig, the acting commissioner who still has his own Q-rating to worry about said of the dugout incident: "If s a very sensitive period for baseball. We have to be reaching out to people. We need to have closer synergy with the fans and players and clubs. It's extremely disappointing." Indians General Manager John Hart dealt with the issue at length in the interview room just before Game 6, but his helplessness was apparent when he said Belle "apologized sincerely, sincerely apologized to Hannah." Storm's version of the apology: "short." Clearly, the club hasn't effectively handled him.

Belle was the hero of Game 5 for the Indians, hitting the opposite-field home run off Greg Maddux that might have turned around the series if not for Tom Glavine's Game 6 masterpiece. indians hitting coach Charlie Manuel says Belle adjusted by going to right with the pitch, the way he had done five or six times during the regular season when in a slump. But Belle wasn't going to expound on that. After the game he was shielded by a personal secret service, including twin brother Terry, who told us (Sparky included) that Albert wasn't approachable. Why should he be? He's got your money, Tribe fans (and says he's bolting after '96 if the club, which owes him $5.5 million for the option year next season, doesn't give him a new contract this winter).

Those close to Belle say his cold shoulder is due to an October 3 pre-playoff profile in the Plain Dealer of Cleveland. He supposedly didn't like an inference that luck contributed to his 50 homers. A quick check of the story reveals no possible inference; it was largely flattering. Belle perhaps never read it. Interestingly, this is a smart guy - he graduated sixth in his class of about 300 at Huntington High in Shreveport, La. - who just didn't use his smart in the latter days of October. Not in hiss overall approach to Braves pitching - he homered twice but had only two other hits - and certainly not in his approach to the world that was watching.

"I've learned not to take this game for granted," Belle said before the postseason. "When I leave this game, I want to be considered one of the best players in the 1990s." He very well may get his wish. But he took the game for granted in a big way, and Major League Baseball is the worse for it. So, I fear, is Sparkly Mortimer. Albert blowed us off.

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