Have glove, will travel: players with talent may move often, but usually find a major league home.

USUALLY ONE OF THE GAME'S more cerebral sorts, Jamie Moyer has to admit that he's lost track of the count. Best he can remember, it's up to "sixty-something."

That's the number of times Moyer, the 41-year-old ace of the Seattle Mariners pitching staff, has moved his ever-growing family for the sake of baseball. Included are the many occasions he was released and signed and dismissed again, traded and retraded and retraded, plus all the trips to and from different spring training sites and minor league assignments.

"We had a garage sale last year to get rid of all the things we'd picked up along the way," said Moyer. "You couldn't call it a garage sale, though, because it took a tractor-trailer-and-a-half to hold all the stuff."

There are players, and not just a few, who seem as if they're traveling through the major leagues behind the wheel of an 18-wheeler. Unable to call any place home for long, not by their own choice, they change teams the way Southern California drivers change lanes.

Frequently. And with little, if any, notice.

They're the Bedouins of Baseball. They have a patron saint, a guiding light, an ageless source of hope. His name is Jamie Moyer.

Not because he's worn the uniforms of 10 different minor league clubs and played for a half-dozen major league teams, rather, it's because Moyer finally stuck with one, and in a big way.