No runs, no hits, no kidding

"Four [bleeping] walks," he growled.

This is known as being a perfectionist. After a year and a half of sheer imperfection, after leading the league in hits allowed in 1993, this was the luxury Erickson afforded himself late Wednesday night, in a belatedly becalmed clubhouse, after pitching the first no-hitter in Metrodome history and first for the Twins since 1967.

"I don't know," he said with a wry grin. "I've been getting ragged on for two years. It's not like I was trying to prove anything.

"A no-hitter is as hard to explain as it is to throw."

Erickson couldn't stop being enigmatic, even on the most inexplicable and wondrous night of his career.  He insisted he did nothing different while no- hitting and beating the Milwaukee Brewers 6-0 before 17,988 at what became a quite raucous Metrodome.

This is the same pitcher who shrugged his way to 20 victories in 1991, and had shrugged his way to a 9-24 record since mid-September 1992, before reversing his fortunes for a few glorious hours last night.

Everyone else in the clubhouse said Erickson had more zip on his fastball and break on his slider. Erickson disagreed, then offhandedly mentioned the kind of minute change that can make or break a career.

"I was messing around in the bullpen, and I started to hold my slider a little differently, the way I used to," he said.

It was that slider that looked like his most effective pitch. It was that slider that ended one of the most combative at-bats of the night - Erickson vs. former Twin Brian Harper, with whom he had a public dispute last season.

In the eighth inning, Erickson started with two strikes against Harper, then threw three balls. Harper fouled one off, then had to be looking for Erickson's favorite pitch, his sinking fastball. Erickson threw "a nasty, nasty slider," said Twins manager Tom Kelly, hat froze Harper.

"Harp got a nice ovation to start the game," Kelly said. "He didn't get many cheers at the end."

Erickson entered the game with a 1-3 record and a 7.48 ERA. He has been among the league leaders in hits allowed since the beginning of '93, and all of baseball had theorized about his struggles.

Scouts have said Erickson would have to rely on a changeup to regain his dominance, but he threw just "two or three" last night. "I basically used my two pitches - fastball and slider," Erickson said.

Erickson called the alteration on his slider "a touchy thing." Any no-hitter could be described similarly.

No Twin had pitched one since Dean Chance at Cleveland on Aug. 25, 1967. Jack Kralick had the Twins' first, against Kansas City on Aug. 26, 1962, and Chance had pitched a five-inning no-hitter against Boston on Aug. 6, 1967.

Erickson had thrown the Twins' two most recent one-hitters. He combined with reliever Mark Guthrie to limit Chicago to one hit on Sept. 24, 1991, at the Metrodome, and pitched a complete-game one-hitter at Boston on July 24, 1992.

"This was a remarkable feat," Kelly said. "He pitched a game I was glad to be here to see."

Erickson received a standing ovation as he took the mound in the ninth. He worked the count to 2-and-1on pinch hitter Jody Reed, then coaxed an easy grounder to second. He went to 1-and-1 on Alex Diaz, then coaxed an easy grounder to first.

Bill Spiers and Turner Ward walked, bringing up Greg Vaughn, who entered the game 5-for-11 with two home runs in his career against Erickson.

He fouled off the first pitch, took a ball and a strike, then lifted a soft fly to left.

Alex Cole raced in, and shortstop Pat Meares raced out, waving his arms. Cole caught it, avoided Meares' roll-block, and Erickson lifted his arms into the air, almost halfheartedly, before first baseman Kent Hrbek started the party.

"I seriously thought they would run into each other," Erickson said of the last out. "Those guys are still relatively new, and there have been a few times they've come close to doing that . . . I don't know. It's not like I've practiced reacting to one of these."

Erickson long has hinted that he needs sterling fielding to win in the Metrodome, where the turf often turns the ground balls he elicits into hits. Even after a no-hitter, he seemed worried.

"I probably won't sleep until 8 a.m.," he said.

Whom would he call first? "I didn't call after giving up seven runs in two innings," he said. "I won't call now.

"I'm happy," he said, actually looking like it. "I still say nothing is greater than the World Series. It's such a team game. Pitchers take all the heat when things go wrong. I could stand here and gloat, or tell everybody they were wrong, but it's not worth it.

"I could give up five runs in the first my next time out. I'm just going to enjoy it tonight."

Then he smiled again. Really.