Arizona and Philly in the NFC title game …. in Arizona?
Back to baseball:
- Michael Silverman at the Boston Herald reports that the recent Teixeira two-step has left the BoSox with some animosity towards Scott Boras:
The Sox, meanwhile, are, at least for now, done with Boras. One well-placed source said the club will never deal with him again unless it can be guaranteed that talks are being conducted honestly. We would take that threat a little more seriously if Boras’ clientele list were to shrink dramatically, but since that is not realistic, we will take it as a sign of just how badly the club felt it got stung by lies from Boras. They are in a “fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” mode right now, with the Teixeira talks feeling like the last straw to them.
Before Teixeira, it was the failed negotiations with another Boras client, right-handed high school pitcher Alex Meyer, the Sox’ 20th-round draft pick this past summer, who came close to signing but ultimately turned down what was estimated to be a $2 million signing bonus. Before Meyer, it was some needless and excessive behind-the-scenes drama in the Daisuke Matsuzaka talks in December 2006, the Johnny Damon talks a year earlier and of course the Alex Rodriguez talks after the 2003 season.
Having lost out on Teixeira, the Red Sox feel an urgency about their offense. Their inquiry to the Marlins about Hanley Ramirez’ availability speaks to that. As good as the core of the lineup still is, there is a pressing need to beef up with an elite slugger. Teixeira was that guy, and he was the perfect guy. To complain about the process, or Boras, publicly would smack of sour grapes. The Sox know this. Boras is not going away and the Red Sox’ resources and long-term strategy survived the latest Boras encounter.
Still, Teixeira left the club somewhat shell-shocked, some executives taking it more personally than others. It will take a bit longer for the shock and the hurt to dissipate.
- Jack Curry of the Times reflects on the similarities between Rickey Henderson … and Manny Ramirez:
“Rickey did his own thing,” said (Dennis) Eckersley, who was Henderson’s teammate on the A’s. “I never saw anyone like him. It’s like Manny being Manny. Rickey was Rickey.”
Even though Henderson was more known for his speed and scoring runs and Ramirez is more known for his hitting and driving in runs, they have a lot in common. (Don) Mattingly said that Rickey used to disrupt opponents and Manny does that now, forcing them to plan strategy around one dominant player and to worry about might happen next.
“Rickey was a lot like Manny, just in a different way,” Mattingly said. “He changed the game. Manny can do that, too.”
When Mattingly was Henderson’s teammate on the Yankees, he was amazed with how flawless Henderson’s hitting mechanics were and how knowledgeable Henderson was about the strike zone. Mattingly said that it was difficult to know how good Henderson was without being his teammate.
When Mattingly was Ramirez’s coach last season, he saw some of the traits he used to see in Henderson. Ramirez has the same type of plate discipline, work ethic and confidence. In addition, Mattingly said Henderson and Ramirez are both much more intelligent players than they are perceived to be.
- Curry has another article with a deeper appreciation of Rickey:
Henderson stole more bases (1,406) and scored more runs (2,295) than anyone, he had the second-most walks (2,190), and he notched 3,055 hits, regal statistics that prove he was a tremendous player. Henderson was also the best at talking about himself.
He needed no coaxing to cruise into Rickey-speak, a mixture of a streetwise preacher and an eccentric professor. He would talk about how he felt or how his salary was unfair or who owed him money from card games or about teammates whose names he did not recall. Through all of Henderson’s chatter, Don Mattingly considered him a baseball savant.
“He kind of got his words jumbled sometimes so some people thought that he wasn’t smart,” said Mattingly, Henderson’s teammate on the Yankees. “But he was. Rickey knew exactly what was going on.”
Eckersley called Henderson “a game changer,” a disruptive force with a strike zone as small as a shoe box. Seeing Henderson lope to the plate and crouch into his stance was nightmarish for pitchers. O.K., Henderson’s body language shouted, try to throw me a strike. Once pitchers did, Henderson would use a swing that Mattingly called, “one of the best I’ve ever seen” to connect.


