Joe Nuxhall, in all likelihood, will grace the Great American radio booth several times in 2005. But there is a small chance he won't. Maybe today the Ol' Left-hander stops heading for home and finally arrives.

Larkin and Nuxie have been around so long and so pleasantly, it's hard to remember when they weren't. It's harder still to fathom that they won't be. How do you bid farewell to a sunrise?

The same could be said of Sean Casey. The Cincinnati Reds without Casey is like Fountain Square without the fountain. You don't trade your heart for two livers and a spleen to be named. Do you?

It's a rumor, it's a notion. It's putting two and two together and believing you see four. The Reds will move Ryan Freel to third base permanently, because he is the only guy they have who can hit leadoff. They will keep Austin Kearns in the outfield - center field is most logical - because he is their best outfielder.

They will move Junior Griffey to first base, to save his legs, and because Junior is, at the moment, untradeable. And they will deal Fountain Square for a decent starting pitcher and a prospect.

This is the business heart at work. It could be trumped by the sympathetic stylings of Carl Lindner, who loves all-American guys like Casey. (Unless, of course, Lindner judges Casey to be more popular than he is, in which case all bets are off.)

There is a lot of rumorous ground to be covered before Casey becomes an ex-Red. But the logic for dealing him and his $7.8 million 2005 salary has never been more profound. "That would be weird for me," Casey said Saturday. "Understanding the business of the game, though, it wouldn't surprise me. Teams need to be creative sometimes."

Some athletes are great players. Some are civic assets. You can't put a price on them. You couldn't trade Anthony Munoz and get anything close in return, even if Munoz were playing tackle at age 45 and couldn't protect a quarterback's blind side without a walker and a stick of dynamite.

Some guys don't just play in cities. They become those cities.

"Big Brothers and Big Sisters," Casey said. I had asked him how deeply wedded he was to local charities. Casey would never volunteer such information. It wouldn't be right. "Lighthouse," he said, a service organization for troubled youth. Hospital visits, Casey's Crew at the ballpark. And so on.

"Wherever you work, you should be involved in your community. I live in Cincinnati, I work in Cincinnati. For six months a year, I raise my kids here," Casey said. "I like to think I'm a face in the community of Cincinnati. I take a lot of pride in that."

Probably, he will never be more marketable. Casey is having his best year. He has re-established his credentials as a run producer, sitting on 99 RBI and 101 runs scored entering today's finale. He just turned 30, full bloom for a ballplayer. And Casey's ability in the clubhouse is well known.

As Danny Graves put it: "I'm not the owner or the GM. But you're not going to find anybody in all of baseball that has the attitude, the heart and the caring as much as Sean Casey."

If Casey were traded, who would lead the Reds in singing "Beer For My Horses" after every win?

"I can't imagine this city without Sean Casey. I don't think anybody in this city could imagine this city without Sean Casey," Graves said. Could you?

"Hopefully, their No. 1 concern is bringing back Paul Wilson," Casey decided. "Pitching wins championships. You know, these fans in Cincinnati love baseball. Do what you have to do to bring a championship back to Cincinnati. I'd love to be rowing the boat, but I understand the nature of the beast and the market we're in.

"I'd be sad. Anything you have a passion for and put your heart into, to move from that would be tough."

Casey on the block? Could be.

Winning isn't easy. Sometimes, it's downright painful.

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E-mail pdaugherty@enquirer.com

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