NO BUFFER ZONE WHEN ARGUING WITH UMPIRES.

Byline: Cathy Harasta Dallas Morning News

Roberto Alomar might not call his 1996 highlight film ``Great Expectorations,'' but major-league umpires will not be able to think of that season by any other name.

The umpires this week made a strong argument for argument-free - or almost argument-free - baseball in what will be the first season since the Baltimore Orioles second baseman's spitting episode last fall during an exchange of viewpoints with umpire John Hirschbeck.

The way the umpires see it, the room for argument virtually has vanished. They banded together to alert teams about a new no-nonsense approach to the game. The way it sounds, protracted player-ump or manager-ump tongue-lashings have joined the list of endangered rituals, ranking right up there with the sainted doubleheader.

The umpires' new stance, however, owes less to Alomar's spit-burst than to the still-gaping hole in baseball's lineup. The game continues to go without a permanent, full-time commissioner. Power struggles and attempts to reshape baseball will continue to be among the prices paid for that vacancy.

More than Alomar, baseball's leadership void forced the umpires' hand.

Presumably, the umpires will insist upon decorum and peace on the field by ejecting offenders at the first sign of trouble.

Said Richie Phillips, who heads the umpires' union: ``Umpires will no longer bend over backward to keep players in the game.''

OK, OK. Umpires bend over backward about as often as telephone poles; as a unit, the umpire universe rarely has been accused of acrobatic feats, or even average mobility.

Alomar will get most of the credit for the umpires' new tenacity. He appeared to unite them and goad them into more heavy-handedness on the field. But don't be fooled; it was inevitable that baseball would get some hands-on guidance from somewhere.

If it sounds as though the umpires are taking charge of baseball, it must be remembered that no one else has. The years the game has gone without a full-time, permanent commissioner will hit five this fall. Now, with inter-league play starting this season, someone must stand for the game - both leagues included.

It is beyond ridiculous that Bud Selig, who owns the Brewers, has remained in the position of acting commissioner for so long. His ties to one American League team should have disqualified him from the commissioner's role from the start. He is pleasant and hospitable in his County Stadium setting, but has no business as the national pastime's authority figure, or acting authority figure.

Baseball has pledged to market itself on a grand scale this spring, but that will not erase the question of who's in charge. Perhaps the umpires will.

You keep hearing that the owners do not want a strong commissioner, fearing erosion of their power. But if the fact is that nobody would make a good commissioner (or that nobody exists who would make a weak enough commissioner to please the owners), then baseball should go public with that announcement.

Without a permanent commissioner, control of baseball will remain in flux.

It is not that the umpires have any desire to serve as the commissioner. They simply have responded to the lack of one by vowing to stand their particular ground. They could reshape the game.

Already, Mariners manager Lou Piniella has experienced an umpire's quick response. In a Tuesday exhibition game, Piniella asked second-base umpire Ted Hendry to stop gabbing with Seattle shortstop Andy Sheets. Hendry ejected Piniella - who wanted only to remind the ump that the young player needed to concentrate.

Moving lips, it seems, could cost a team.

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Photo

Photo: National League umpire Eric Gregg waves to some fans before a spring-training game in Florida.

Associated Press