Story on Erik in Seattle
By JIM MOORE
P-I COLUMNIST

TUCSON, Ariz. -- Erik Bedard spoke for nearly four minutes to reporters Monday afternoon after his rocky start against the Chicago White Sox at Tucson Electric Park. That's not supposed to be a story, much less a column, but with him it is.

After his previous start last Wednesday, the Mariners' new ace limited reporters to four questions in a 1-minute, 18-second interview that wasn't pleasant for anyone involved.

In a classic example of bad karma, Bedard was tattooed by the White Sox on Monday, appearing more like a guy headed to Cheney Stadium than Safeco Field.

It was an exhibition game so it didn't matter, but Bedard allowed six hits to the first nine batters he faced, including back-to-back homers to Jim Thome and Paul Konerko. The White Sox led 4-1 before Bedard recorded an out.

If they didn't have a rule against cheering in the press box, spurned scribes might have exchanged chest bumps and done the wave.

To his credit, when he met with reporters, Bedard was surprisingly cordial, for him. At spring training, the starting pitcher is interviewed in the clubhouse immediately after he leaves the game.

Reporters gathered in the elevator, wondering what kind of surly mood would greet them downstairs. I'd never met the guy, so I didn't know what to expect, but "jerk" was one of the possibilities based on the scouting report.

When we approached him, Bedard said: "Five questions," and no one was sure if he was serious or kidding, the smart money being on the former.

Shockingly, he took 10 questions, hitting double figures for the first time in his career. I also counted five or six smiles and, again, I couldn't tell if he was joking around or playing us for fools.

He said he doesn't feel a responsibility to talk to the media. When asked if he's uncomfortable doing interviews, he said: "No, I have my reasons." But when asked what they are, he waved off the question, which was either No. 7 or 8.

We were then told by a Mariners PR staffer to ask only questions about Monday's game. A few seconds later, during an awkward lull, I said I had a couple more questions, but they weren't about the game.

"Those aren't real questions," Bedard said. Man, he had me on that one, they were fake questions, imitations that I was trying to pass off as real questions. When the interview ended, Bedard walked away and had a question of his own:

"That better?" he asked.

No one answered, but the reply would have been, "Yeah, but not much, wise guy."

Question No. 11: Does any of this matter? Question No. 12: Can I offer a different point of view?

I'm not certain about other reporters, but going into a locker room is not my favorite thing to do, especially after a loss. I'm not looking for dirt; I'm looking for the quickest way to get in, get quotes, get out and go home.

I imagine the players don't want to be bothered, and I don't want to bother them -- that's their space, and we're invading it, so to speak. I wouldn't want them in my living room, either ... unless they brought beer, strippers and Tim's jalapeno potato chips.

There are many times when I'm standing in a clubhouse waiting for someone to interview who doesn't want to be interviewed, feeling like an idiot and no doubt looking like one, too.

Then the someone shows up, and the song-and-dance begins with two unwilling participants, one asking mindless questions, the other giving answers to the questions he's probably heard before.

So I'm not going to criticize Bedard for his reluctance to talk, nor did I take satisfaction in watching him get ripped by the White Sox. But I do find his behavior strange. If he were still in Baltimore, no big deal; but he's new to Seattle, and you'd think he'd want to make a good first impression, regardless of his disdain for the spotlight.

Play along -- answer the good questions, tolerate the dumb ones and prove that you're the terrific guy people in your hometown say you are.

If I were him, I'd think to myself: "Geez, I've been lucky. I was just a runt in high school and here I am, a big league pitcher making $7 million a year when I could be fixing elevators like my dad did or my brother does now. And if that means I've got to put up with these rumpled guys with notepads surrounding my locker once in awhile, I'll hate it but I'll do it."

Perhaps this is a nonissue. Do fans care solely about a player's performance, or do they want his thoughts and comments, too?

"We try to teach players that, hey, the media has a job, they've got deadlines," said Mariners GM Bill Bavasi, who encourages players to be accommodating.

"He's a good guy," Bavasi said of Bedard. "But he does not like to talk about himself at all."

When asked if players should be required to do interviews, Bavasi said: "I think that I think they should do them, but I don't. ... Not talking -- that's OK. But if you're treating the press badly, it's not OK. That's where you've got to be careful."

That's where Bedard has been, and to try to understand why, it helps to talk to John Bradley, who owns J.T. Bradley's Country Convenience Store in Navan, Ontario, population 2,000, Bedard's hometown.

"He's a super guy," Bradley said.

But the super guy is quiet, and he might be shy.

"That's exactly what it is," Bradley said. "It's not that he's ignorant or not a nice guy; he's just very uncomfortable with being the center of attention."

That contradicts what Bedard said Tuesday, but there must be something to it. Bradley watched the news conference when Bedard signed with the Mariners and thought: " 'Ohmygod, that's so like Erik.' You could tell he was uncomfortable and just sort of nervous."

In a story by Slam! Sports in Canada, Bedard said: "You look at superstars like A-Rod and (Derek) Jeter; they can't go to the store and get a bottle of water. That's not for me. I'm a small-town guy."

Bedard told Sports Illustrated that Navan is his "fortress of solitude."

"He likes coming back," Bradley said. "Everyone treats him like he's nothing too special."

An Internet search and the Sports Illustrated story yield few details about Bedard the person. He likes to snowmobile and play RBI Baseball on Nintendo with his brother. He had a childhood connection to Seattle and a poster of Bruce Lee hangs above his bed. Lee got his high school diploma from Edison Technical School in Seattle and attended the UW.

Bedard has a Molson kegerator in the basement of his parents' house, so I'm just guessing he likes really cold beer from a tap. If you want to pry anything more out of him, grab a crowbar or ask someone else.

"There's a light side to him," Mariners manager John McLaren said, but in Bedard-like fashion, he did not elaborate.

P-I columnist Jim Moore can be reached at 206-448-8013 or jimmoore@seattlepi.com. His columns appear Tuesday, Thursday and Friday.