THE BEST LEADOFF MAN EVER? : Henderson’s Play Changes the Game

NEW YORK —  In the off-Broadway theater that is Yankee Stadium, and elsewhere in the American League, he is described as a “one-man show, the most perfect player we’ve seen in years.”

That was the way a New York Yankee executive named Billy Martin put it when asked about center fielder Rickey Henderson, whom he formerly managed with the Yankees and Oakland A’s.

Others have described Henderson as the greatest leadoff hitter ever, an extraordinary blend of strength and stealth who is often forced to operate here in the publicity shadow of George Steinbrenner, Don Mattingly, Dave Winfield, Bernard Goetz and the New York Mets.

Henderson himself may be partly to blame for that.

In happened in April 1985, his first season with the Yankees. An ankle injury had forced him to open the year on rehabilitation assignment at Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

Finally, eager to test the ankle and get on with his new career, he reported to Yankee Stadium, encountered a horde of reporters and said, “I don’t need no press today.”

The line has haunted Henderson, but not in the destructive manner that Henderson has haunted the opposition, disrupting rhythms and strategies with that rare combination of power and speed.

The best leadoff hitter ever?

Henderson smiled and said, “I hear people say that and I have to accept their word. As a kid I learned more about football. I’m still studying my baseball history.”

Said Yankee Manager Lou Piniella: “There’s no question but that he’s the best I’ve ever seen. He’s unique in that he could hit second, third, fourth or fifth. He’s found a home in the leadoff position because of his ability to steal.”

At 27, four years after stealing 130 bases for the A’s to set a single-season record, Henderson has stolen 17 bases in 17 attempts this season to lead the American League. Last year, when he led the league for a seventh consecutive season to move to within two seasons of Luis Aparicio’s all-time record, Henderson set a Yankee record with 87 steals.

He now has a career total of 677 to rank 11th on the all-time list. At his current average of 83 a year, he would eclipse Lou Brock’s record of 938 early in 1990, when he will be 31.

“My goal is to be the first to achieve 1,000 steals, and Lou is on the way,” Henderson said. “If I play seven or eight years after that, I should get to 1,500. It depends on injuries, but I haven’t lost any quickness.”

It is Henderson’s ability to steal at will, to intimidate pitchers and unnerve defenses, that is his forte, but in his own words, he is now doubly dangerous, having learned to drive many of the pitches he used to take because of a belief that it was the leadoff man’s job to walk.

Henderson hit 24 homers in 1985, his first year with the Yankees, and a career-high 28 last year, including a league-record nine leading off a game.

He has seven homers this season, which ties him for the team lead with Winfield and is four more than Mattingly has hit. Three of the seven have been game openers, improving his career total to a league record 31.

Said Martin: “Rickey Henderson can dominate a game from the leadoff position. He can carry a club when he’s hot. Maybe Tim Raines (now hitting third for the Montreal Expos) can as well, but he doesn’t have Henderson’s power. There’s nothing Rickey can’t do now. I’ve never seen him play better than he has this year.”

A .290 career hitter, Henderson and Kansas City’s Kevin Seitzer are tied for second in the league in batting with .345 averages. Henderson is first in on-base percentage at .451, first in runs with 30 in his 30 games and fifth in walks with 23.

In his first two seasons with the Yankees, he scored 276 runs, leading the league each season. His 146 in 1985 were the most by any player since Ted Williams had 150 in 1949. Henderson appeared in 143 games that year and became the first player since Joe DiMaggio in 1939 to average more than a run per game.

Sitting in the Yankee dugout after taking early batting practice the other day, Henderson said the perfect season would be 100 steals, 145 runs, a .330 average and 30 home runs.

He may be in the process of producing it, as well as directing the Yankees toward a playoff berth, his primary goal since he has never been on a championship team--other than when Oakland won a half pennant in the 1981 strike season--and yearns to put what he calls “Rickey Time” in the national spotlight.

Rickey Time is defined as a man moving at his own pace and in his own style.

Some see it as arrogance, calling Henderson a hotdog. They cite his strut, the one-handed catch he calls a snatch, the tendency to smirk at pitchers when he’s taking his lead at first base, the little strolls in objections to the calls of the plate umpire, the downtown style with which he wears his uniform.

Said Angel Manager Gene Mauch: “He can get on your nerves. He can infuriate the opposition. It’s part of his game.”

Said Boston Manager John McNamara: “There was a time when I thought that Henderson made it hard on himself because so many people seem to want to see him fail. Now I believe he’s so self confident he puts it to an advantage.”

Henderson said he hates the term hotdog, that he is merely trying to entertain and be aggressive. “Willie Mays had the basket (catch), I have the snatch,” he said. “Did anyone think Mays was a hotdog? I’m just trying to have fun. That’s the way the game has to be for me. I don’t care if some pitchers don’t like what I do. I want them thinking I can hurt them more than one way.”

Now a Yankee teammate, Tommy John pitched against Henderson while a member of the Angels.

“Rickey Henderson is the toughest hitter in baseball to pitch to,” John said. “He gets down in that Eddie Gaedel crouch and you can’t throw him a strike. I’ve always felt that I could throw a strike any time I wanted, but I couldn’t do it with Henderson. Plus, if you make a mistake, he’s got 420-foot power.”

Said Jeff Torborg, the former Angel and Dodger catcher who now coaches for the Yankees: “The word disruptive doesn’t cover it. He can turn the game around in a minute whether he’s driving the ball out of the park or turning a walk into a triple by stealing second and third.

“You can’t cheat with the infield to protect against his speed because he’ll drive the ball over it. He forces you to pitch carefully to the eighth and ninth hitters because you don’t want a couple guys on base with Rickey walking up there. And if he’s on base, he makes the hitter behind him better because there’s going to be holes in the infield and you’ve got to throw fastballs to guard against a steal.”

In most cases, however, it doesn’t matter what a pitcher throws.

“I never worried about him,” said John. “I figured he’d steal anyway. I always concentrated on Carney Lansford and Dwyane Murphy or whoever was hitting behind him in Oakland. If I got them out, he could steal second and third.”

An outstanding high school running back at Oakland Tech, Henderson doesn’t consider himself fast, only quick. He accelerates to full speed within two or three strides. In a recent game at Minnesota, Henderson broke from first base and scored on an infield single by Winfield, a high chopper off the synthetic surface. Henderson said he has also improved as a “reader” of pitchers’ moves.

Catcher Bob Boone and the Angel pitching staff have had comparably good success coping with Henderson, but he has made it tougher, according to Mauch, who said:

“You used to be able to tell when he was going to run. He started from a static position and gave himself away with little movements. Now he takes a walking lead, doesn’t come to a stop and you can’t be sure.

“I’ve said many times that he and Willie Wilson are probably two of the most disruptive players in the game, but Rickey more so because of his power. He doesn’t look for walks any more. He’s like Brian Downing. He goes up there to hit.”

Henderson stole his 130 bases in 1982 while batting only .267. He walked a league-high 116 times. Henderson reflected and said that the teammates who told him he wasn’t being aggressive at the plate were right.

“I had made my name by stealing bases in the minors and felt it was my job,” he said. “I felt that by walking I could count on stealing second and third. The record was the only thing I was thinking about that year. I took a lot of pitches I’ve since learned how to drive. I’ve learned that base stealing is only part of the leadoff hitter’s job.”

Henderson loves Martin. He sees a lot of Billy the Kid’s aggressiveness, creativity and face-in-the-dirt style in his own game. Martin worked on Henderson, attempting to convince him that he should look to drive the ball when ahead in the count. Martin’s successor with the A’s, Steve Boros, picked up the theme, but it wasn’t until Henderson came to the Yankees that Willie Horton, then the batting coach, taught him how to hit for distance, developing backspin by swinging down on the ball.

Some believe that Henderson became homer-happy last season, when his average dropped from .314 to .263 and his on-base percentage from .419 to .358, but Henderson said it was the result of a season-long battle with the umpires, who suddenly felt he had two strike zones, one when he was in his crouch and the other as he came out of it while taking certain pitches.

Steinbrenner, the Yankee owner, repeatedly sent films to the league office in an effort to demonstrate inconsistency on the part of the umpires, but it was an admittedly confused and frustrated Henderson who said he swung at bad pitches, developed bad habits and concluded he would have to make an adjustment.

“I watched videotapes over the winter and decided that the only answer was to stay in the crouch instead of coming out of it,” Henderson said. “There were times last year when I came up thinking it was ball four and then was called out on strikes. I was angry, but I don’t blame the umpires. We both learned from it. I have a better understanding of my strike zone now and can be more selective.”

Said Piniella, when asked if was concerned by the frequency with which Henderson may be ‘thinking’ home run: “What’s the difference if he hits the ball out of the park or sets up a run by stealing a base? I don’t want to deprive him of either aspect.”

At 5 feet 10 inches and 190 pounds, Henderson has large biceps and thighs. He plays racquetball during the winter, works on a Nautilus program, often does 100 pushups a day and runs the hills near his Oakland home.

Because of his aggressiveness, however, the season requires conservation. He has had jammed and separated shoulders, bruised wrists and arms and numerous stiff necks caused by his head-first slides and an ankle that was so bruised in 1984 that he wore padding for two months.

A great left fielder in Oakland--”one of the greatest ever,” said Martin--Henderson would like to move out of center field as a method of preserving energy, but the Yankees are without an alternative.

“I don’t know if I’d be any more effective, but I know I’d be stronger,” Henderson said of a position switch. “I know I could still steal 100 to 130 bases a year, but I have to pace myself on the basis of what the club needs. There haven’t been too many center fielders who were great base stealers.”

Despite the injuries and the energy that is required to play center field and run the bases with Henderson’s fervor, he is still accused at times of laying back, failing to work as hard as he should.

“How much can a body take?” Henderson asked in response. “I’d love to work out as much as Mattingly does, but it would probably kill me. I mean, Don himself has said that.”

Said Mattingly: “Here’s a center fielder who takes an ungodly pounding on the bases. He needs his time off. I’m a first baseman who doesn’t run. I don’t need days off.”

Henderson has his own booster club in Claudell Washington and designated-hitter Gary Ward. They needle him, encourage him and keep him loose.

Said second baseman Willie Randolph, the Yankee captain: “People say that Rickey is nonchalant, that his work habits are this and that. Everyone has to pace themselves at their own level. Rickey knows what he has to do. He plays at high gear and needs to be pumped up at times like everyone else.

“The way I feel is that Rickey at half speed is still better than just about everyone else. I may have felt he was overly stylish, but that was before I knew him, before he came here. He wants to entertain and have fun. His attitude is perfect for New York.”

Henderson came to New York in December of ‘84, a year before he would have been eligible for free agency.

The A’s, fearing they would get nothing in return if Henderson chose that route and certain they would be unable to meet his financial terms, weighed a Dodger proposition that was believed to include Alejandro Pena and a choice of Sid Bream or Greg Brock before trading him to the Yankees for pitchers Jay Howell, Jose Rijo, Eric Plunk and Tim Birtsas and outfielder Stan Javier.

Said Martin: “We were at the winter meetings in Houston. George had decided against the trade because he didn’t want to give up that many pitchers. I went up to his room and asked him to reconsider. I told him he couldn’t win without a leadoff hitter and that Henderson was the best there is. I mean, besides what he can do for a club, he’s a good kid who is close to his mom and has no bad habits.”

Henderson had to waive a no-trade clause and agree to a new contract with the Yankees before the deal could be consummated. He signed for five years at $8.5 million and said he was anxious to prove that he could play at the same level as the Yankees’ championship-caliber players.

He has done that and more, with comparatively little recognition.

“There are times that I tell myself I deserve more,” he said, “but the important thing is that I feel I’m satisfying the fans, having fun and contributing to a winning team. I guess the media expected me to overwhelm it like Gary Carter did (when he arrived in New York), but I was more concerned that day with proving I could play on my ankle than talking to the press.

“It was a misunderstanding, but some writers still turn away from me. I try to be cooperative, but I’m not going to chase after attention. My job is on the field. The guys who drive in the runs get most of the headlines anyway. I’m still only 28. I’m confident there’ll be a time in my career when people will look at what I’ve done and I’ll get the recognition.”

Barring injury, one thing is certain. He’ll eventually get his recognition in Cooperstown.