Henderson Runs Uphill, Hoping Someone Notices
It is in the low 50s on a Saturday night in this seemingly endless East Coast winter, and you can count the crowd at Riverfront Stadium as Rickey Henderson, taking a detour on his way to the Hall of Fame, leads off the first inning for the Newark Bears of the Atlantic League.
The Atlantic League is an unaffiliated bus circuit that challenges truth in advertising by suggesting that it is comparable to organized baseball’s double-A level.
Henderson is here at 44 to make a final -- well, maybe not final because he is talking about Japan if this doesn’t work out -- pride-swallowing try to show one of the 30 major league teams that he can still perform at that level. He is about to face a pitcher from the Pennsylvania Road Warriors who wasn’t yet born when Henderson stole his first professional base in 1976.
This scene, of course, seems more than a little surreal, what with baseball’s record holder for walks, runs, stolen bases and leadoff homers being the only familiar name among the 18 in the two lineups. It was surpassed, however, in the realm of the unreal 24 hours earlier when Henderson, wearing shorts and an undershirt, having already left the game, came off the bench to try to catch Ketchup and Mustard in the nightly Nathan’s hot dog race.
Henderson has always provided a little relish, and maybe his late entry in the hot dog race underscored his sincerity in insisting that going back to the majors, putting off retirement as he is, isn’t about money or records but simply about his love of the game and his conviction that he can “still steal more bases” than anybody in either the American or National League, can still play regularly at that level.
In other words, Henderson doesn’t think he has anything to apologize for if he doesn’t even know the names of the eight Atlantic League teams, if one night he’s in Camden for a game with the Riversharks and the next on Long Island for a game with the Ducks.
“If you enjoy playing the game, it doesn’t matter where you’re at,” he says. “I love the game and know I can still outplay a lot of the guys up there now, and I think a lot of people know it.
“If I had gone to spring training and couldn’t make a ballclub, I’d have taken off my shoes and hung them up myself. I didn’t get that chance, so here I am, looking for an opportunity to compete. I mean, give me the opportunity to fail if you’re so convinced I will. I’ll quit if I can’t compete.”
It is hard to know what this is all about, hard to believe Henderson isn’t fooling himself as he spreads the gospel of being Rickey and says, “Rickey can still come close to doing the things he did when he was 20.” Maybe he believes that because he is blessed with that same nonfat body and still looks as he did when he was 20.
In the last two seasons, however, Henderson hit .227 in 379 at-bats with San Diego and .223 in 179 with Boston. In each case agent Jeff Borris had to work into late March before getting a team to sign him.
This time?
“I talked to every club many times over and there wasn’t any interest,” Borris said of the 30 big league teams. “Billy Beane [Oakland’s general manager] said that if Rickey wanted to go out in an Oakland uniform [as he had come in], he would bring him in for a day in September when rosters expand. Rickey viewed that as charity and wasn’t interested.
“It’s like last year, when so many people asked why he didn’t turn that into a farewell tour, and he simply said he wasn’t retiring, wasn’t close. He sincerely believes there’s been no decline in his skills, that he would never embarrass himself on the field and that he can still contribute.
“Do I think he’ll be in Newark for the entire year if he doesn’t get a job in the big leagues? No. But do I know him to be a quitter? That’s no as well. He’s reminded me several times that Satchel Paige was 47 when he was a rookie and that Rickey is only 44 and in much better shape.”
On Tuesday, Henderson began a pre-arranged week off to deal with personal issues. Through 16 games of a 126-game season, he was batting .314 with three steals in four attempts and was tied for the league lead in runs.
There are several independent leagues, and the Atlantic may be the most successful. Joe Klein, a long-time big league executive and scout, says that more than 100 players have been sold to major league teams in his five years as the league’s executive director. Almost all of the eight teams have cozy new ballparks -- “We’re preparing to expand at a time when most leagues are contracting,” he added -- but it is basically a league of veteran players like Henderson and teammate Jose Lima, searching for a few more big league moments, and younger players seeking their first.
Henderson, who has homes in Oakland and the Phoenix area, receives the league maximum of $3,000 a month but estimates it costs him more than that to live in Manhattan -- he uses a car service to commute -- and help feed teammates 10 to 20 years younger.
“It’s never been about money with me,” he said. “Financially, I’m fine. People say Rickey still has his first dollar. That’s why I’m willing to come here and pay for what I want to do. It also gives me the opportunity to help some of the kids. Maybe one day I want to coach, so it’s giving me an opportunity to teach, to relate to the younger guys. I’m learning something every day.”
Bill Madlock, the four-time big league batting champion who is getting his first opportunity to manage with the Bears, says Henderson has been like the Pied Piper.
“I told our young players [almost half of whom weren’t yet born when Henderson began his pro career] that no matter how long Rickey is here, whether it’s two weeks, two months or more, they were making a mistake if they don’t take something from him in the way of knowledge,” Madlock said. “He’s been great with them.”
Great too with the fans and media, say club officials. But can he still play?
“You can still see that brilliance at times,” Madlock said. “He still gives 100%, but it’s probably 60% of what it once was. I think he can contribute to a big league team, but I don’t think he can play regularly.”
Henderson, of course, disputes that and is “puzzled and very surprised” that he can’t get another chance.
If it’s about age, he says, how come baseball’s best player is Barry Bonds, who is coming up on 40. If it’s about personality, well, “Who’s saying Rickey is a bad guy. Is there a word out? Are people saying Rickey can’t get along, he’s not a team player? I don’t know, but I have guys who told me they hated to play against me because I was so deadly out there, trying to do things to help win a ballgame.
“People say, ‘Well, Rickey played sometimes and sometimes he didn’t.’ Did I steal [1,403] bases and score [2,228] runs being a sometime ballplayer? I mean, there’s so many good things to talk about with Rickey that I can’t believe people would try to find all these little things. It’s ridiculous.”
Well, maybe it’s an accumulation. All the years of preening and contract disputes, when it was a matter of money. All the times Tony La Russa questioned his focus and priorities, or the series of incidents with Bobby Valentine, such as the New York Mets insisting he was in the clubhouse playing cards as the Atlanta Braves were eliminating them from the 1999 National League championship series.
Maybe too, none of that is the issue.
Maybe there is no word out and it simply comes down to an issue of fading talent at 44. Whatever, Henderson is right about many things.
He has been a larger-than-life performer on the baseball stage and has no reason to apologize and every reason to be proud of what he’s accomplished, every reason to think “baseball should be proud of what I’ve done.”
He is taking it day by day now, “floating with the good Lord,” letting “him decide when enough is enough,” when there’s more to do than step to the plate against the Road Warriors.
He would like the opportunity, he said, to go back one last time and tip his cap in a farewell tour he refused to take last year, and maybe that’s what this is all about.
He said, though, “I’m not going to go out there and tear down what I’ve done, or be angry and frustrated that they’re taking it away from me, not giving me the opportunity.
“I have too much fun doing what I’m doing, and I can hold my head up, no matter what happens. I can tip my cap no matter where I am. When it’s all said and done, I’m going to be a happy person and be able to say I gave everything I had.”
One thing for sure. From Boise in ’76 to Newark in ‘03, Rickey is going to be able to say, Rickey was Rickey.
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Rating Rickey
A look at where Rickey Henderson ranks in the major leagues in various offensive categories:
*--* Category Rank No Runs scored 1 2,288 Walks 1 2,179 Stolen Bases 1 1,403 Leadoff HRs 1 80 Games played 4 3,051 Hits 21 3,040
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Other Henderson numbers:
* Years in majors 24
* All-Star games 10
* AL MVP 1990 (Oakland)
* World Series titles 1989, Oakland
1993, Toronto
* Highest salary $4.8 million, with Oakland, 1994
* 2002 salary $350,000, with Boston
* 2003 salary $3,000 a month, independent Atlantic League maximum