I think of wine and how his career went sideways, as described in this George Vecsey column from his renaissance. The grapes are ripening near Ukiah, Calif., but the Chapman family is one hand short for the harvest. Kelvin Chapman used to go home right after Labor Day to help operate the forklifts and the tractors and then haul the chenin blanc and petit sirrah grapes to the Colony and Asti wineries, but he won't be home for at least a month. ''My father will find somebody else,'' says Kelvin Chapman, who is hauling in ground balls rather than grapes this harvest season. ''And he'll go down to the Sports Attic, the bar in Ukiah, where they can pick up the Mets' games by satellite.'' Kelvin Chapman has been a farm worker in the literal and the baseball sense. He grew up around the lush, rolling vineyards of Mendocino County, and he spent eight seasons as a farmhand for the Mets. There was that one promising spring of 1979, when the Mets took him north and he dared to dream of being voted rookie of the year, but the hopes died on the vine and he was in Tidewater by May. Five years later, Chapman is back with the Mets, a mature 28-year-old who is sharing the second-base job with Wally Backman, batting .294 and dreaming of a September surge that would help the Mets catch the Cubs. ''There are so many horror stories, you like to see the fairy tales,'' says Dave Johnson, the Mets' manager, who rescued Chapman from the farm system this spring after managing him at Tidewater last season. A lot of baseball players flit into and out of the major leagues, but few spend five years between tastes.