A diminished Manny returns to Boston

BOSTON – A big league scout was thinking the other day about Manny Ramirez(notes), musing over the two capacities that leave a hitter first. In no order, he said, they are eyesight and bat speed.

The reputation, presumably, goes next. Followed by the legacy.

He'd watched Manny for a few days again, noting how pitchers went about picking over Manny's swing – hard on the hands, soft off the plate, just like they would get after any plugger.

[Photos: Manny Ramirez back in Boston]

One of the premier fastball hitters of his generation, Manny is getting more fastballs. He's seen an increase in curveballs. Pitchers are directed to never – ever – throw a slider for a strike to Manny, because that is about all Manny is running into these days.

Manny last month turned 38, old for anyone not enhancing his performance illegally. Ask Ken Griffey Jr.(notes), who lost almost 100 OPS points from 37 to 38. (And by 39 was batting .214.) Ask Chipper Jones(notes), born a month before Manny. Neither has been associated with performance-enhancers. One is retired and the other is talking about retiring.

Then, ask anybody who can't rely on his own body to produce testosterone anymore.

"He's still capable at times," the scout said. "But things are changing when they're getting you out against your former strengths."

A lot's happened in two years.

Manny Ramirez strolls into Fenway Park on Friday for the first time since he forced his way out of Boston (Red Sox version) or had the Red Sox make life unbearable for him (Manny version).

He is again nearing the conclusion of a contract, his reminder of that being the last substantial words he's spoken, those coming on the day he reported to spring training.

He was suspended 13 months ago for violating the league's anti-drug program. Two months later, the New York Times reported he (along with former Red Sox teammate David Ortiz(notes)) had showed positive during baseball's 2003 survey testing.

He also spawned a mania in L.A., got a section of outfield seats named after him, helped the Dodgers to their most significant seasons in 20 years, and made another $45 million.

He's slapped no teammates, flung no traveling secretaries and always remembers which knee hurts that day. He sort of runs hard, sort of plays defense and even sort of hits, though not generally for power.

In fact, just as it seemed he'd fallen into something terrible – guessing wildly, getting beat by ordinary fastballs, having a single multi-hit game over five weeks – Manny had back-to-back three-hit games earlier this week. He hadn't done that in almost two years.

Until then, and possibly still, many Dodgers believed they were looking again at the fragile post-suspension Manny, who returned last summer from career-wrecking limbo and for weeks seemed out to prove he could still hit a ball farther than anyone. And on any pitch. When he couldn't, Manny swung harder, and missed more often.

By last weekend, when he seemed lost again, he was hitting a home run every 26.4 at-bats. Since the suspension, one every 21.8 at-bats. In 16 seasons before that, nearly half with the Red Sox, he'd homered every 14.5 at-bats. He is walking and striking out less, swinging at more pitches out of the strike zone, hitting fewer line drives.

He's an OK hitter now, still capable as the scout said, but nothing special. He's a little heavier around the middle. Those who know him believe he carries self-doubt, given the humiliations of last summer, and that he's still trying to make it all better.

He remains the Dodgers' cleanup hitter, in part because manager Joe Torre has no options – Andre Ethier(notes) has batted .216 since returning from a broken finger, Matt Kemp(notes) has regressed from last season's breakout – and in part because Torre wants Manny to recognize he believes in him.

Yes, life has changed in two years for Manny. He left Boston to energize an organization, a whole city. He'd laughed and played and showed the young Dodgers hitters the work it would take to become … him. He was buoyant.

Then, where there was joy and limitless hits and a sure place in the Hall of Fame, there were accusations and sliders away and a post-career place beside Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire.

And now there is a trip to Fenway Park, where he was a heroic Idiot with a capital I and a World Series MVP and then the man who insulted most everyone when he couldn't take it anymore. Presumably, he will smile and horse around with Ortiz and act as though it is any other series in any other ballpark. But, a Dodgers teammate predicted the weekend would be "traumatic" for him, in the place "where he became a star."

In May 2006, Johnny Damon(notes) returned to Fenway Park with the New York Yankees.

"[Damon] helped that club win its first World Series since 1918," Torre said, "and they booed the hell out of him."

What chance does Manny have, then?

"He won't be wearing a Yankee uniform," Torre said.

He sighed.

"Maybe I'm just naïve," he concluded.

Manny said often that he adored the fans, even as he was burying Red Sox management, even as his preferred communication method was dogging it to first base. By the end, everyone agreed it was best he go.

So he did.

He's back, just for the weekend, a different guy. A different hitter. A different legacy.

The bat speed, he's working on.