ANALYSIS : SHAME ON THE GAME, NOT RESPECTING ELDERS.

Byline: Dave Anderson The New York Times

It's not as if they just had a cup of coffee, but now they're not even getting that. Before 1946 each rode the trains in the major leagues for at least five seasons, including 16 who played in the All-Star game.

One was the National League's most valuable player. Another would have been worthy of a Cy Young Award had it existed.

While today's baseball multi-millionaires are assured of a prosperous pension in their later years, with funds coming from Tuesday night's All-Star Game in Philadelphia, the forgotten pre-1946 old-timers aren't getting a dime. But they should.

``There are only 77 of us left,'' Buddy Hassett was saying in his Hillsdale, N.J., home. ``I guess they're hoping it'll go away when we're all gone.''

Hassett is 84. He was a New York Yankees first baseman in the 1942 World Series after having hit .310 as a rookie with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1936. As a retired trucking salesman, he lives comfortably. To him, it's the principle, not the principal.

``The other major sports have done something,'' he said. ``Baseball hasn't.''

If you weren't on a major-league roster the last day of the 1946 season or the first day of the 1947 season, you weren't entitled to a pension. Of that pre-1946 group, 77 are still alive.

One is Jo-Jo Moore. When the New York Giants won the 1933 World Series, he was their left fielder and leadoff batter. He had a .298 average and played in six All-Star Games.

Another is Harry ``The Horse'' Danning, a Giants catcher who was in four All-Star Games. Three others were on the Dodgers' 1941 pennant winners: first baseman Dolph Camilli, the NL's most valuable player that year; right-hander Whitlow Wyatt, a 22-game winner; and second baseman Pete Coscarart.

Another is Marius Russo, a left-hander who was a 14-game winner for the Yankees in both 1940 and 1941.

If you're old enough, maybe you remember the others among the 77 who, in addition to Moore, Danning, Camilli, Wyatt and Russo, got to the All-Star game: Ace Adams, Mace Brown, Babe Dahlgren, Woody English, Al Milnar, Lee Grissom, Stu Martin, Merrill May, Gus Suhr and Jim Turner.

You may remember some other names too: Eldon Auker, Frenchy Bordagaray, Newt Kimball, Ernie Koy, Bill Lohrman, Billy Rogell, Charley Wagner and Billy Werber.

But to baseball, which supposedly prides itself on tradition and history, it's as if these 77 survivors never existed, as if all their contributions never occurred.

Acting commissioner Bud Selig agreed. ``It's categorically unfair. In the next labor contract, there should be a provision'' for the 77 old-timers. But according to Randy Levine, the owners' negotiator, the subject has never been discussed in the current labor talks.

The owners prefer to put the onus on the Players Association, whose pension fund reportedly is over-funded.

Donald Fehr, the Players Association executive director, has insisted the fund is underfunded and that the association lacks ``the authority,'' either under the agreement or under the law, to utilize those funds except for covered employees.

``I sympathize with them,'' union counsel Gene Orza said of the 77 survivors, ``but the current players have no duty to bargain over retired employees. And you can't ask the players or the owners to give them charity. It seems unseemly.''

But the National Football League and the National Basketball Association players and owners didn't consider it unseemly.

In 1987, the NFL established a $40 million fund for those players who played for at least five seasons before 1959. In 1989, the NBA established a similar program.

``We get a stipend, not a pension,'' said Gene Conley, once a Boston Celtics center and the leader of the campaign for the NBA old-timers. ``If you're 62 or older and played at least five years, you get $100 a month for every year you played. And if you die, there's a widow's benefit.''

Conley, who also was a Milwaukee Braves right-hander, understood the baseball old-timers' situation.

``The money is there; it can be done,'' he said. ``The baseball guys just want to be recognized.''

Like almost everything else in sports now, the pre-pension old-timers have sought their day in court. They recently filed a class-action suit against Major League Baseball for using their photos and films without compensation.

``If you don't want to take care of the people who made your business,'' said John Puttock, the old-timers attorney, ``don't take advantage of them either.''

And even though 16 of the 77 survivors played in at least one All-Star game, when the owners and the Players Association whack up the money they collected from Tuesday night in Philadelphia, none of the 77 will get a dime of it.

Forget the letter of the labor laws. Doesn't their conscience bother them?