Craig Biggio remembered it like it was yesterday. Yet it was seven seasons ago. Seven? How is that possible.

It had taken a long time to work up his courage. He was a veteran, sure, but still a young guy. He walked into Bob Brenly's office, day before spring training for pitchers and catchers, and layed his cards on the table.

"I don't want to catch any more, Skip," baby-faced Biggio said to his manager and comrade in the tools of ignorance. Brenly wasn't much older than Biggio, not really, but sitting behind his desk (His desk, too), he looked at least a hundred.

"Well, Biggio, that's a hell of a note. What is it you want to do?"

"I was thinking . . . secondbase," and Brenly, Biggio was sure, swallowed his chew.

Secondbase on the Kingoonya club was taken. Definitely taken. Taken by none other than Ryne Sandberg, the golden child of the league. Biggio might as well have said he wanted to be The Wind.

"You realize what this means, don't you?" Brenly said when he finally recovered.

"I think so," Biggio answered.

A week later, he found himself wearing the purple and white of the Urapunga Nature Boys. He couldn't believe it. Trading in the classic black-and-white pinstripes of Kingoonya for these clown colors? They looked like a slowpitch softball team. And they played like it, too. In six seasons as Urapunga's secondbaseman, Biggio had seen some truly terrible ball. They finished 4th 3 straight years, his 1st 3 years in Urapunga. The last 3, though, Urapunga had finished 2nd. Three years in a row being one spot from the top drove Biggio crazy, but at least the team was winning. A little.

And now Season Fifteen, and yet another new manager. Terry Pendleton, who'd never spend a day of his life with Urapunga until now. Well, that was nothing unusual. When you have no history, you have to borrow someone else's. Biggio watched the new manager bark orders at his teammates. Maybe Pendleton would be the guy, finally, to whip these clowns into shape. Maybe he was the change they needed.

Biggio hoped so. Even without the wear and tear of catching every day, he was running out of time.