MALONE MIA WHEN TEAM IS CRITICIZED.

Byline: KAREN CROUSE

A child's game is his life's work so it's probably asking too much of Kevin Malone to grow up.

In case you've been too busy waiting for your favorite leadoff hitter to draw a walk to notice, the Dodgers general manager has retreated into a semi-sulk. The man who once couldn't raise his profile high enough has turned quieter than the Kings' power play.

He has been only slightly more talkative than Ed Palubinskas, which is really saying something since Palubinskas signed a vow of silence with the Lakers before he began working with Shaquille O'Neal on his free throws.

Why, Al Gore is keeping a higher profile these days than Malone. Dodger Boy, as he was calling himself back when he was speaking to reporters on a daily basis, has been so quiet you can hear his stock around the league drop.

Malone was giving baseball reporters the silent treatment, presumably because they have dared to speculate on who might succeed him. Even when he finally deigned to talk to a member of the media on Saturday, he refused to comment on practically everything but the weather.

It's like my first journalism teacher told me: The closer you get to the truth, the more people will squirm and scream and act sanctimonious. The truth doesn't set insecure people free, it holds them hostage.

A mute Malone wouldn't be so terrible, except only he can ultimately address the questions that have surfaced about the team he built. The Dodgers are 7-6 and already trailing their on-deck series opponent, San Francisco, by a half-game.

You don't just assemble a team that's a mess and then leave it to your rookie manager to pick up after you. Dodgers fans should be able to get it straight from Malone's mouth to their morning paper about how third baseman Adrian Beltre is recovering from a botched appendectomy.

They should be able to get it straight from Malone's mouth to their morning paper about how pitcher Carlos Perez's search for his missing velocity is going in Las Vegas. As general managers are paid to do, Malone gambled when he signed Perez to a princely contract on the strength of a single scintillating season.

Fans who've invested their hearts and souls in the Dodgers or just a few quarters a week to follow the news of their hometown team are naturally curious to know what Malone's next move is.

They want to see him up the ante or fold his cards, anything but completely ignore the hand he has dealt himself. When his $105 million man suffered a right-Achilles tendon injury near the end of spring training, Malone acted as if it would magically disappear if he didn't talk about it.

It didn't, of course. Kevin Brown missed his opening-day start because of the injury. On Sunday in San Diego, Brown was hit in the elbow of his left (nonthrowing) arm. Of course he was immediately listed as day to day, same as Beltre and Shawn Green.

Beltre wound up on the disabled list and Green missed three weeks. Imagine that.

And what about Don Welke, the scouting adviser who recently underwent quadruple bypass surgery? We're left to guess that he's also day to day.

The Dodgers this year under Malone have become the masters of doublespeak and subterfuge. They were high on veteran pitcher Ramon Martinez right up until the day they released him. They went on and on about how Hiram Bocachica is much better suited to play left field than second base right up until last Friday, when they started Bocachica at - surprise - second base (and watched him promptly commit a throwing error).

Sending such mixed signals is no way to conduct your business unless your business happens to be espionage.

After a while, it makes you wonder, what exactly is it that Malone is trying to hide?

What Malone doesn't get is that the harder he runs from his circumstance, the quicker his circumstance is going to catch up to him.

Already this spring he has managed to squander the wind he had at his back after Gary Sheffield pulled a Pete Dalis with his very public betrayal.

How could you not sympathize with Malone, who sung Sheffield's praises back when he was a chorus of one only to have the outfielder show his appreciation by backing Malone into an impossibly tight corner?

Malone would have lost the season, maybe, and perhaps even his job, but he would have won the war if he had stood up to Sheffield and swiftly sent him packing. His actions in the Sheffield affair spoke so loudly, I suppose it doesn't matter what Malone says or doesn't say anymore.

Still, Dodger fans want to hear from Malone for the same reason passengers on a plane that's not budging from its gate yearn to hear from the pilot. They just want to be assured that everything's going to be OK, one way or the other.