Last week, while stretching a single into a double against the Anaheim Angels, Davis strained his right hamstring and had missed four games through Sunday. Before the injury he had hit in 12 of his previous 13 games, at a .500 clip, and he had given the Orioles what Bonilla couldn't—a complete player who quietly went about his business. But now he also had pulled up lame, which left Baltimore wondering how much it could depend on him during the rest of the season. For Orioles fans, it was a glimpse of life with Eric, who can be brilliant and brittle on the same play. He is also living, limping proof that there are no sure things in baseball. "I will never be what everyone thinks I should be," says Davis, who hit .293 with 37 homers and 100 RBIs in 129 games with the Reds 10 years ago. "No one was ever satisfied with what I did, and I did a lot. It was always I should have done this or I should have done that. I wish I never had to hear the word potential again."
Davis made his choice and came to Baltimore, so he had better get used to it. His team has potential. The players can stay as quiet and low-key as they want, hut word is out: The Orioles are loaded.