Forget Me Not

He shall have a noble memory.
—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, Coriolanus

Click. Moises Alou has just taken a picture. It's 8:30 a.m. on May 31. He's asleep in room 512 of the Hyatt Regency San Diego, comfy and serene and—brring! Hola? On the phone is a reporter from The Gazette of Montreal. He wants to know what Moises thinks of the firing. Firing? "Your dad," says the reporter. " Felipe Alou has been fired as manager of the Expos. What do you have to say?"

Click. Moises Alou has just taken a picture. It's of the Florida Marlins' clubhouse immediately following Game 7 of the 1997 World Series. Righthander Livan Hernandez is being presented with the Series MVP trophy. Alou had battered the Cleveland Indians, hitting .321 with three homers and nine RBIs. Hernandez had won two games but finished with a 5.27 ERA. So who was really more valuable?

Click. Moises Alou has just taken a picture. He's a 12-year-old Dominican, visiting Santo Domingo's Hipodromo Perla Antillana racetrack for the first time. Feel the hay. Smell the manure. Look at the horses. Check out the speed and the power and the grace.

Click. Moises Alou has just taken a picture. And another picture. And another. His eyes are Kodak Instamatics, his brain a limitless photo album. Click. Alou remembers that he hit his first big league home run, as an Expo, on May 27,1992. It was against the Houston Astros and came on a Mark Portugal fastball, waist-high and slightly outside. Click. Alou remembers the first time he saw Austria, his wife of 12 years. They were juniors at Centro Especializado de Ese�anza High in the Dominican. She was standing there in the hallway, beautiful. Click. Alou remembers nearly every name and every date, every friend and every bully, every jolt of elation and every dagger of pain. There are things Alou wants to forget but can't. In Norse mythology the god Odin was blessed and cursed by his quest for information. It enabled him to create great works, yet also tortured him with foreknowledge of his death. So it goes with Alou and his memories.

In his 11th major league season and his fourth with Houston, the Astros right-fielder is one of the best—yet most overlooked—righthanded hitters of his generation. At week's end his .305 lifetime average ranked 13th among active players with more than 3,000 plate appearances. Over the last three seasons in which he played (Alou missed 1999 because of injuries), he averaged 118 RBIs. His success in pressure situations—a career .358 batting average with the bases loaded, .323 with runners in scoring position—speaks for itself.

In the 11th inning of last Friday night's game at The Ballpark in Arlington, with the score tied at 4, Alou, in the lineup as the designated hitter because of a strained left quadriceps, led off against Texas Rangers righthanded reliever Tim Crab-tree. After taking the first pitch for a ball, Alou swung at Crabtree's next offering, a fastball, and sent it 398 feet over the right centerfield fence, giving him three hits for the game and driving in the deciding run in a 5-4 win. For the three-game weekend series, Alou went 6 for 12 and lifted his average to .361, second in the National League, which, with his nine home runs and 39 RBIs, makes him his team's top All-Star candidate.

"I have succeeded as an offensive player for one main reason: I remember," says Alou, 34, who missed the first 12 games of the season with a strained right calf. "I remember how a guy pitched me five years ago and how he pitched me two years ago. It's the secret to a lot of hitters' success. You can analyze a player's stance and work habits, but his memory—that's the key. I have a great memory."

"He's probably the best fastball hitter in the league," says St. Louis Cardinals righthander Matt Morris. "He crowds the plate, and he's quiet with his movements. Right when you think you can sneak one by him, he's quick enough to get it."

Study Alou's face, and you will learn nothing. Is Alou happy? Is Alou mad? For those answers you might have to ask around the Astros' clubhouse. "I don't think aloof is the right word to describe Mo," says manager Larry Dierker, "but it's close."