The idea that Billy Beane, one of the few sabermetrically-friendly general managers in the business (not to mention someone who understands you don't need to pay filet-mignon prices for ground-chuck performance), would be interested in Dante Bichette was hard to fathom. Which is why I can't say I was surprised to read that -- as Sugar Ray Leonard once said about a potential fight with Marvin Hagler -- it ain't gonna happen. More and more, this sounds like Art Howe floating a rumor/wish with the Oakland press that found its way to the Boston media corps, and eventually to the eager ears of Bichette.

Then again, Leonard did wind up fighting Hagler a year or two after he made that rather definitive statement.

If Oakland actually pursues Bichette, it would be a repudiation of all Beane has built -- and all he stands for -- during his enlightened reign with the A's. Bichette isn't as good as his triple-crown stats indicate, and he makes a lot more money than a small-market team like Oakland can reasonably afford for what he'd produce. Beane, almost alone among modern GMs, understands there are players out there who can deliver more at about one-tenth (or at least one-fifth) the cost.

Not everyone does, though, and that's the battle Beane has to fight. I have no basis for saying this, but every arrow points to Howe as the source of this report. Howe and Bichette were together in Colorado. They like each other. If he did so, Howe wouldn't be the only guy to completely ignore the Coors Effect when evaluating Dante Bichette. (Do you realize that Ted Williams once lauded Bichette as one of the game's greatest all-time hitters?) Howe surely feels his job slipping away with each passing loss, and lack of offense is probably the main reason the team is struggling. (The A's are only scoring 3.8 runs per game, the third-worst figure in baseball.) To Art Howe, Dante Bichette -- wasting away on the Boston bench -- is a potential lifeline.

I have absolutely no doubt Howe's not the only one who feels this way. When a team flounders, pressure mounts -- from the public, from within the organization, even from within the clubhouse -- to do something! That pressure is especially strong when the club was expected to be good, and the A's more than qualified on that count: They were baseball's chic team this spring. Beane himself insisted that the 2000 Athletics -- who, don't forget, were one muffed flyball away from the dethroning the Yankees -- would be the weakest batch of A's he'd field over the next five years. So this unexpected collapse has probably caused much angst and anguish in the Bay Area.

You acquire Dante Bichette, and you've done something. You've aggressively attacked your problems. You've brought in that oh-so-valued "veteran leadership" that some say the young A's may be lacking now that Randy Velarde and Matt Stairs (not to mention Kevin Appier) are elsewhere. You've stirred the turgid pot, and that can do nothing but help.

And, you know, it probably would (seem to) help, at least in the short term. The A's aren't going to play at a .267 pace all year. They'll pick it up, probably sooner rather than later, and if Bichette is on hand when the turnaround occurs he'll get a disproportionate share of the credit. So will Beane, who will be lauded for fixing what absolutely seemed broken. The naysayers will be silenced, the atmosphere will be lightened, and it will be easier for the team to go about the business of picking up the pieces.

In the end, though, you can't erase the double-barreled whammy of a) increasing your payroll by something like 15% for one guy, who b) isn't any better (and may be worse) than the people you have on hand, and thus won't provide any real long-range value. Not to mention he may retard the progress of the young players from whom he'll be taking at-bats.

Billy Beane knows all this. The question is, can he stand up to the pressure? Can he convince people, as the team continues to lose, that the A's are better off going with what they've got instead of acquiring a veteran hitter with sterling (superficial) stats? Especially if, as it seems, the manager is leading the "Deliver Us Dante!" chorus?

If you can't, Billy, we can do business. Adam Piatt would look awfully nice in a Boston uniform.

Think I'm the one who's dreaming now? Well, maybe so. But don't forget:

Sugar Ray Leonard did fight Marvin Hagler.