ST. PETERSBURG - Almost a month ago I penned a piece about the entertainment at Tropicana Field - Rays Missing a Beat on In-house Fun - and how the departure of John Franzone, aka John the Maestro, has left a huge void inside the stadium.

Having been inside the House of the Tilted Roof this entire homestand, there has been something else that has been gnawing at me but I just couldn't put my finger on it until Sunday's homestand finale with the White Sox.

Before the new information screens and gigantic television in right field were installed, you could always find the Rays' lineups posted above the Batter's Eye Restaurant in center. Not so now.

While the big TV shows an endless, dizzying and almost nauseating loop of a Rays' batter graphic spinning around like a top and the matrix board above the eatery showing the biggest digital clock this side of Uranus, fans entered the Trop two hours before the game with nothing else to do but sit in their seats and listen to the kids screaming at players to throw up a baseball or two.

Baseball fans who like to settle in with their just purchased scorecards from concession stands, or carry their own from home, get to stare at blank pages until the nitwits who run things think it appropriate for the basic of baseball information is doled out.

Pitchers for that day are already in the bullpen warming and still nothing. Everyone has the lineups - the media, TV, radio and even those on the Internet - but the fans in the stands? In military parlance, they are told to hurry up and wait, as in get to the park early and sit in anticipation of a voice over the speakers tells you it's time to get into baseball mode

Sunday the visitor's names were not read until 1:26 pm for a 1:40 pm start. The Rays? Nothing, nada, zilch, zero until a grand and spectacular "commercial" preview of the game tried to get people jacked up and as the clock rolled over to 1:29 pm, Joe Maddon's name was finally blurted out.

But still nothing on a board. Any board.

Batting practice isn't just for show, it is a time where fans get to see who is playing and begin their daily ritual of dissecting the game about to be played. Somehow the powers that be have no sense of the game.

It is somehow tantamount to former boss Vince Naimoli who hired all his cronies from the business world but lacked the basic necessities to understand the business of baseball.

Tick tock, tick tock.....

1:35 pm and the big old clock in center remains. The info boards sparkle with the logo "Rays" while the bigger one has players doing their thing in uniform. The lineup?

The Rays take the field. The National Anthem. Tick tock, tick tock.....

At last. 1:39 and the centerfield board appears with a sight unseen for one-hour and 59-minutes ---- the lineup.

In a world gone mad by one crazy innovation after another that has taken away from what this sports is all about, another tradition has apparently fallen by the wayside.

Just because a company is good at what it does, doesn't mean they understand the task at hand.

Anyone know Franzone's phone number?

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TIME TO BEAT THE PRESS:

THE PUPPY POOPS ON TAMPA BAY: Maybe he uses the theory of on P.T. Barnum that there is a sucker born every day but don't you think that if you are on the radio and make claims, shouldn't you be able to back it up?

It was not too long ago where a gentleman, and that word is used very loosely in this case, who calls himself the Big Dog bragged about how he has his finger on the pulse of Tampa Bay Sports.

To be perfectly honest, he either has no fingers or has been hanging around a funeral home because the only pulse could be his own, and that could be stretching things just a tad.

Since landing in Tampa Bay I have covered virtually everything including soccer at Raymond James Stadium, the Stanley Cup Finals at the Forum, all the top boxing matches, the Honda Grand Prix of St. Petersburg right on down to the fly-by-night minor league teams that pass through the area from time to time.

That is not a bragging statement but a point of fact that in my entire media life here, I have seen Steve Duemig just once - at the USA-Ecuador match in Tampa.

Once.

The "Dog" has season tickets for the Lightning and has tried to cut the front office off at the knees every chance he gets. He rails against players and the coach but since the first game I sat in their press box back in 2002, I have yet to see his face.

He doesn't go to Rays games, unless he is in the stands, but speaks as if he has inside knowledge. Maybe that's his alter ego talking, Whitney Johnson, who IS at most sporting events while he stays in the air conditioned luxury of his studio.

What had me and a near full Rays' press box on the floor hysterical the other day was The Mouth of the South commenting on the report of a new coach for the Lightning. Here was a complete misrepresentation of his status and maybe his state of mind.

In short, he proclaimed that he has had "numerous" confrontations with John Tortorella in the"lockerroom" when in fact the only contact he has had was on-air and he treated them with kid's gloves. Confrontations my butt. Torts NEVER does interviews in the lockerroom.

THAT IS A FLAT OUT LIE.

Unless he is hanging some gin mill where these executives hang out, which is not very likely, his confrontations exist only in his rather swelled head.

For a major market, Tampa Bay sports radio is short on personalities and the ones that are on the air lack the in-depth insight it takes to make claims about their knowledge. Reading a newspaper or watching SportsCenter should be a point of reference, not a point of view.

Duemig has been pulling the wool over the eyes of the Tampa Bay area and maybe even ClearChannel, his boss, for years and it is time for people to start calling him on his alleged knowledge.