When I was very little, I would sprint home from the bus on the corner and rush inside to finish up my homework before heading out to play. Eventually, I would head in for dinner at my mother's beckon, but I was always ready to go out afterwards to tackle the ankle-biting mosquitoes and the impending darkness.
My grandfather would stand at the worn-out dirt patch in the grass that my dad loathed to see, which served as home plate and use a tennis racket and tennis balls to hit pop-up after ground ball at me until I couldn't see the ball anymore. As the sun slowly faded away, I could barely see my grandfather hitting the ball and only recognized its flight path when it hit the background of a still colorful sky.
On these high fly balls, the only assurance my grandfather had that I caught them was a soft plop into my glove and my quick throw back to his feet. I figured what he couldn't see couldn't hurt him. So, late at night I practiced the Rickey Henderson "snatch catch" as Phil Rizzuto and others termed it. For Rickey and for me at that young age, it wasn't just enough to nonchalantly catch the ball with one hand (something my grandfather could not stand to begin with). One needed to catch the ball and then instantaneously snap the glove down from above your head against your hip as if to let everyone in the stadium know that those sort of routine plays just waste your time.
Now, no one was watching me that night in my backyard but I can still remember hitting my hip after every catch and waiting for something a little more spectacular to show off my leather. Rickey Henderson was released by the New York Mets this week because, in part, his flair for the spectacular moved from his on field magic to his off the field actions.
You know what, it doesn't matter. And besides, would you expect Rickey to leave the Amazin's in any other way? This might be it for Henderson in baseball as well -- although, if I were making personnel decisions for a team right now, he would certainly raise both my eyebrows.
He will eventually enter the Hall of Fame as the greatest base stealer of all time. In today's long ball climate, it seems as though someone will reach 1,339 home runs before they reach Henderson's career stolen base total of the same number. That's 401 more swipes than Lou Brock. That number is only more impressive as stolen bases around the league continue to plummet.
While I was growing up, Don Mattingly and Dave Winfield were the Yankees that everyone liked. They were "complete" players or so the media said. Writers would use words like "gritty" and "gutty" about their play, but looking back, Rickey was just that.
How complete was he? He began 75 baseball games with a leadoff home run -- another record that will surely stand the tests of time. His speed in the outfield allowed him to make some memorable plays even if they weren't complete with the snap-to-the-hip ending.
It was just that his flash would sometimes overshadow his play. People credit Henderson and others of his decade as predecessors to the sloppy play of athletes like the NBA's Jason Williams. That comparison is ludicrous. Take a look at the numbers.
Eighteen, yes, 18 years ago, Henderson stole 130 bases in a season -- a feat that may never be equaled. During his career, he led all of baseball in stolen bases 12 times -- another record. From 1980 to 1991, he led the American League in steals every year but one. The cynics and critics will come out and say that he has simply racked up statistics the last few years, but in 1998, he once again led the league with 66 steals.
In 1988 he stole 93 bases, the last time anyone has had above 90. It's the last number above 80 for that matter. Marquis Grissom holds the season high for the 1990s with 78 in 1992.
But, has the game passed Henderson by? Does a juiced ball, andro, and tiny ballparks render the man who will turn 42 this Christmas and his skills worthless? Maybe.Before he was released, he was hitting .219 this season and showed little of the hustle, desire or flair that I remember impersonating in the late evenings in my backyard. Yet the Expos and other teams seem very interested in acquiring the veteran to see how many tricks he still has left in him.
It seems that the Mets, like my grandfather, did not want to see flash and excitement -- all they wanted was solid, reliable results. Now another team could get both of those ingredients if the change of venue re-ignites the passion and flash in Henderson that I idolized when I was so young.
If just one general manager is bright enough and has the vision to sign the future Hall of Famer, they will see that all Henderson needs right now is a few more pop-ups in the dark to show everyone exactly how bright his career has been.
