Alex Rodriguez begins difficult task of resembling player he once was
TAMPA, Fla. – They – and by they I mean those who couldn’t know Alex Rodriguez or comprehend his need for the game (and affinity for $61 million) – said this day wouldn’t ever come, and yet there Alex Rodriguez stood Wednesday afternoon under a reasonably blue sky and one very threatening cloud.
It may have been early March, which technically isn’t baseball season, but don’t get bogged down by the calendar. Alex Rodriguez wore a New York Yankees uniform, he set himself in a batter’s box, a pro-Yankees crowd watched from box seats and bleachers at George M. Steinbrenner Field, Yankees brass looked down upon him from above that, and a non-Yankee pitcher tried to get him out, albeit with an 89-mph fastball.
And they – they being those who thought otherwise – shoulda known, because Alex Rodriguez does not care what he looks like when the fight is done, hardly even knows the blood is there or that it is his, knows neither disgrace nor embarrassment and, damn right, wants his $61 mil (plus milestone bonuses) and the rest of his career back.
A guy can only kick around the world for so long. And while it doesn’t seem Rodriguez picked up any new hobbies as he did (other than, I guess, collecting college backpacks), there was always the baseball thing, no matter what anybody thought.
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So now he’s just an old guy hoping to see the ball and fire synapses and get his body parts moving in the right direction, then dragging himself out of bed and doing it again. Cut away those who hope he fails and their reasons for it. Set aside whatever it was Rodriguez was doing, the damage it caused and for how long he was doing it. (In a statement the Yankees issued in early February, they called it “the past several years,” so we’ll go with that.)
What’s left is a sunny weekday afternoon and a drowsy crowd, a pitcher with an outside shot of being a big leaguer come April, and Alex Rodriguez – back elbow high, stance square, eyes narrow – with only everything to prove.
There are, of course, those tens of millions of dollars at stake, and a $3 billion franchise has its reputation and future profits to consider, and, oh yeah, this franchise hasn’t played a postseason game in 2 ½ years and hasn’t won one in 3 ½, all of which makes for a lot of moving parts and a good bit of desperation.
Think what you will of Alex Rodriguez, but for today and tomorrow and however long he keeps doing this, he’ll try to be the aging guy with a bat in a chalk-white rectangle. He’ll leave the greater issues – who he is, what he’s done to himself, what it’s cost him, and what everybody thinks of that – outside the rectangle, which is too small for both a comeback and a conscience.
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He batted second as the designated hitter. He was introduced – “The designated hitter, No. 13 …” – and he was mostly applauded. He looked pretty much the same in his uniform, still big and strong and marginally cocky. He swept out the batter’s box with one foot, turned to plate umpire Marty Foster and “Tommy, the kid behind the plate,” asked them to, he said, “take it easy on the old man,” meaning himself, and became a New York Yankee again. He hadn’t done this since Sept. 25, 2013, back when so many were so sure they’d seen Alex Rodriguez’s final professional at-bat. This didn’t exactly count toward that, and won’t for another month, and yet there he was, measuring Philadelphia Phillies right-hander Kevin Slowey and hoping – just hoping – to make contact.
“Stepping in the box for the first time with my metal cleats,” he said, “that seemed pretty weird.”
Also weird, presumably: Being late on two 91-mph fastballs.
“I felt like I was swinging under water,” he said.
On the third, he lined a single to left field, reached first base, patted first baseman Darin Ruf on the rear end and hung out there for a while. He had two more plate appearances. He grounded to shortstop and drew a full-count walk. Then he was replaced by a pinch-runner, walked through the clubhouse with three bats – two black, one blond – in his hand shortly thereafter, and soon was crowded by reporters at his locker. This is the way it’s going to go for a while. He said he’s happy to be playing the game he loves for the Yankees, and maybe he’s a little surprised too. He said he expects to rebuild the skills and endurance he left behind those several years back. Maybe he can and maybe he can’t. But he didn’t look so unlike everybody else in exhibition game No. 2, in which the Yankees scored one run and amassed seven baserunners, two of those being Alex Rodriguez.
Joe Girardi, the Yankees manager, was asked about Rodriguez and shrugged a lot. He looked at the big calendar on his wall a little.
“I mean, for this time of spring they’re pretty good at-bats,” he said. “These at-bats for these guys aren’t necessarily very easy right now.”
That was that. Rodriguez is not expected to play Thursday, when the Yankees go to Bradenton (Fla.) to play the Pirates, but likely will get a few more at-bats Friday night when the Pirates come to the Yankees. He’s racing age and inactivity, which never lose, but occasionally can be fooled. That’s the game now. For it, Alex Rodriguez would show up, take his shot, ignore the blood and stand in that rectangle, because that’s what he does. Or, at least, what he used to do.
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