As a lifelong baseball fan, one of the highlights of my sports broadcasting career was the opportunity to cover the 2001 Padres on a daily basis, as part of the pregame and postgame team on KOGO. It was Tony Gwynn’s last year, and Tony was hobbled all season long by bad knees, reduced to a pinch hitter. Ryan Klesko and Phil Nevin had All-Star seasons and were both slugging in their prime. Bubba Trammell had his one good power hitting year in the outfield. But 2001, to me, belonged to Rickey Henderson.
He was 42 and presumed washed up for the umpteenth time when Rickey called Kevin Towers in March of that year, the “Rickey calling on behalf of Rickey” call. Signed as a backup, Henderson played sparingly in April, and on April 25th, the night he tied Babe Ruth’s all-time walks record, Henderson was batting just .111 and we were wondering if he would be released before too long.
Even at 42 Rickey was still hustling for the Padres
Instead, Rickey was about to insert himself into the everyday lineup and light a spark which would last for most of the summer. In May, injuries forced the Padres into an everyday outfield of Henderson, Mark Kotsay, and Trammell. For that month, really for the last time in his career, Rickey played every day and was his old self. He had a .402 on base percentage for that month, drew 22 walks, hit four homers (picking at his jersey every time, classic Rickey), stole seven bases in eight tries, and scored 23 runs in 25 games.
42 years old, still sliding headfirst, snatch catching in left, smiling and talking to himself at home plate. Rickey’s greatness was always evident but often overshadowed by his colorful antics and runings with managers earlier in his career, and by the steroid sluggers who filled the headlines at the end of his playing days. But the thing that he always showed me on the field was joy. True joy for playing the game, joy for performing in front of fans, for connecting with the crowds that loved him. In May of 2001, everyone watching the Padres saw a surprise repeat performance of that joy.
Rickey Henderson kept his on-base percentage over .400 for a good part of the summer, but as the year wore on he wore down. Then, down the stretch, with two records in his sight, Rickey got another chance to play regularly. In September and October of that year, as we were counting down Gwynn’s last days and anticipating his pinch-hitting apperances, Henderson again stole the show. He batted .278 in September and October of that year, reached base at a .444 clip, and stole nine more bases, finishing with 25 steals in 32 tries for the season. At 42, Rickey could still get on, he could still steal a base, and he could still score a run for his team.
Rickey slides into home with the all-time runs record in 2001
On October 5th, a sunny afternoon at the Q, Rickey launched a low line drive off of Dodgers’ starter Luke Prokopec which bounced off the top of the left-field wall and over for a homerun, breaking Ty Cobb’s all-time runs record. A banner unfurled out by the Jumbotron revealed Henderson as the all-time runs leader, but then, with his teammates circling home plate waiting for him to touch home, Rickey showed the flair which defined his career, THE single greatest thing I’ve seen for spontaneous celebration at a ballgame. Rickey slid into home plate at the end of his homerun trot. He slid into home! Tony Gwynn gave him a gold plate, which he held over his head. But that homer and sliding into home plate still makes me smile thinking about it 8 years later.
The next day, Ben Higgins and I got to interview Rickey in the dugout for the pregame show, and I always remembered it as the greatest interview I ever had the chance to conduct. Not in content necessarily, just how special a situation it was, one of the most important records in baseball history had been broken and here was the guy who did it. And what I remember about that interview was how humble Rickey was, how honored he was to have the record, and how deeply and truly he loved and respected the game of baseball. I tried to save the tape of that interview but somehow it got lost in the mix.
Most people who are San Diego baseball fans remember the last game of the 2001 season. Tony Gwynn’s final appearance as a Padre came in the 9th inning, with flashbulbs popping and everyone standing, as Mr. Padre rapped out to shortstop on the first pitch. But in the first, when the sun was shining and the Rockies had yet to blow out the Padres, who was it that stole the show? Rickey, of course. After Gwynn insisted that Henderson play (Rickey was afraid of taking away from Tony’s moment), Rickey flared a double down the right field line for his 3,000th career hit. His teammates gathered around him at second base, and Rickey was beaming that million-watt smile once again. Henderson, naturally, came around to score, his last run scored as a Padre, before being lifted for Mike Colangelo.
That’s what Rickey did. He got on, and he scored.
When it was announced in January that Rickey was going into the Hall Of Fame, we had the amazing opportunity at my old job in radio to interview him on the telephone. I have no idea to this day how Matt Gulbransen, my producer at the time (and for one more week, we were both laid off one week exactly after the interview was recorded), booked Rickey, but he did. I did save the MP3 of that interview, which I can present for you here:
Henderson is now a Hall Of Famer/(Getty Images)
Watching Henderson’s Hall Of Fame acceptance speech today was a very special moment. And as always, Rickey stole the show. He was proud yet humble, funny yet reserved, and he looked like he could still draw a pinch-hit walk, swipe second, advance to third on a grounder and come home on a fly ball. He thanked John Moores for his time in San Diego. I thank Rickey, for a time in baseball which I will never forget, the time when Rickey turned back the clock and showed us all why he was the greatest leadoff hitter the game has ever seen.
Craig Elsten -
Chainsaw -
