What’s He Doing in the Series? Just Hitting .555!

The subject for today is, What’s So Smart About Major League Baseball, or, Who Told You You Were Branch Rickey, Fella?

The only thing worse than being traded for “a player to be named later” in baseball is being the player to be named later.

The only thing worse than that is being a throw-in in a trade that keys around two .240-hitting shortstops.

Either way, you’re the baseball version of a used car that’s been in three wrecks or a little “fixer-upper” in the real estate market that has a roof leak, bad plumbing and a living room that is four degrees off level.

David Lee Henderson has about as much business being in this World Series as, say, well as Pepper Martin had being in the 1931 World Series or, maybe, Gene Tenace in the 1972 games.

Dave was minding his own business, carving out a career for himself in places like Bellingham, Wash.; Stockton, San Jose and Spokane. Nobody ever mixed him up with the next Mickey Mantle or fastened any colorful nicknames on him like The Man or Dave Daring. He didn’t come up to the major league club, Seattle, with any “can’t-miss” label. In fact, Seattle already had a Henderson (Steve) and most fans couldn’t tell them apart.

Since no one ever mistook Seattle for the 1927 Yankees, either, Henderson found more or less steady work. The pitchers weren’t too worried. Dave seemed to find the major league curveball as much of a mystery as most journeymen ballplayers. In baseball, they regard a player of this caliber as an “out” man. This is a guy who will maybe hit pitchers’ mistakes but generally can be counted on to kill a rally if the pitcher doesn’t get careless.

Dave was a fringe player even on a franchise like the Seattle Mariners which had hardly any other kind. Still, he had his moments. He improved more or less steadily, hitting .253,.269, .280 and .276 (with a .241 in between). When he did meet the ball--which was not that often--he had good power. He hit 14 homers or so every year, drove in 55 and 68 runs on his good years and managed to keep his name from being a household word.

The Boston Red Sox didn’t exactly covet him. They had their eyes on a steadying influence at shortstop named Spike Owen. The Red Sox gave up a promising rookie, Rey Quinones, for Owen and sweetened the pot with a couple of relief pitchers, so Seattle threw in Henderson for the ever-loving player-to-be-named-later.

The Red Sox figured they could use Henderson as Tony Armas’ “caddy.” In baseball parlance, a “caddy” is a guy who goes in for defensive purposes or just to give the regular a rest in the late innings.

Henderson got in parts of 36 games for the Red Sox after the trade but he didn’t exactly terrorize American League pitching, batting .196 in 51 plate appearances. However, he didn’t drop any fly balls or involve the club in any lawsuits or join the Brinks gang or anything. The club issued him uniform No. 40 and told him to take a seat and they would call him. They didn’t even issue him a new contract, just let him ride out the old one. There was even some thought the Red Sox weren’t completely sure which Henderson they had shopped for.

Baseball is an institution which prides itself on its scouting acumen. It spends millions a year. It employs computers to tell it where the baseball ivory is hidden from inexperienced view. Henderson did not light up any of their jaunted computer stats or their scouts’ eyes.

But in playoffs and World Series, which has Cy Young pitchers, .357 hitters, stars with high marquee value, the Henderson who is not Steve is presently doing more than any million-dollar ballplayer on the field to bring the 1986 world championship to the Boston Red Sox.

You will recall the stunning bad break the Sox suffered in the celebrated fifth playoff game against the Angels when their center fielder, Tony Armas, jammed an ankle so severely chasing a Doug DeCinces fence hit, he had to come out of the game. They told Henderson to get a glove and go out there and try not to do anything wrong.

In the ninth inning, he hit the two-out, two-strike home run that put the Red Sox, effectively, in this tournament.

On Sunday night, facing the Cy Young pitcher known on the newsstands as Dr. K, this Henderson more or less personally dismantled the New York Mets and turned Dr. K into Dr. Gopher. All Whozit Henderson did was hit a home run and two singles, score two runs, knock in two others.

All the Henderson who is not Steve is hitting in this tournament is .555. If he keeps it up, he gets the award of a car to charity. The Red Sox beat the Mets Sunday night, 9-3, and all Henderson figured in was four of those runs.

He laughed in the locker room later as he admitted that his career has been marked by one of mistaken identity. Asked if people ever mixed him up with Steve Henderson when they both patrolled the Seattle outfield, he admitted: “They still do. I was just ‘the other Henderson.’ ”

If so, he has blown his cover. If the pitchers were delivering pitches to the wrong Henderson, they have now paid dearly enough for their mistake to have the picture of the real Henderson on their lockers with the warning “Do not throw fast balls to this man who is not to be confused with the Steve Henderson you may have thought you were getting out.”

So, what is so smart about a franchise who will let a player capable of this kind of postseason heroics go with a shrug? And what is so smart of an organization that just took him as an afterthought and did not hasten to lock him into a multi-year contract? “My contract is over with, I don’t have any at the moment,” laughed Henderson, relishing the irony, as the microphones and TV lights crowded around his locker room in Shea Stadium Sunday night.

It’s officially a World Series now that a player has stepped from the shadows into the brightest spotlight in the game. It happened to an obscure player named John Leonard Martin in the 1931 World Series when he stole everything but the Liberty Bell from Philadelphia and became not John L. but “Pepper” Martin, the “Wild Horse Of The Osage.” And it happened to Gene Tenace in 1972 when he began to hit homers faster and oftener than Babe Ruth in his Series prime.

The Red Sox wouldn’t be in the World Series without their throw-in for a player-to-be-named-later. And they probably wouldn’t win it without this Other Henderson. It remains to be seen how good the Red Sox are. It is already foregone how lucky they are. And which would you rather be?