Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Too Manny Memories Part II

3. Manny Being Manny, the Early Years
The quirks of Manny were evident in Boston right from the start. You know the guy that smokes cigarettes every time he's out drinking but "isn't a smoker" so he's always bumming cigarettes off the people he's out with five nights a week? That was the way Manny chewed tobacco. We're not talking about dip here, we're talking about the real thing, Red Man Extra Gold. Manny wouldn't chew Red Man or anything else. For a guy who wasn't a chewer, he sure was picky about his chew. And since Manny wasn't a "tobacco chewer", he always got his chew from Rick Downs, our newly hired hitting coach. Rick used to get one of us to pick up a few pouches every so often. We eventually bought pretty much every pouch of Redman Extra Gold in town, to the point that I was searching for it while on vacation in Maine and all over the Greater Boston Area. Everytime I asked a different store owner to order it for me and that it was for Manny Ramirez, they never seemed to believe me. Somehow someway we ended up keeping Manny in supply for the whole season.
2001 was the 100th Anniversary of the American League, a league the Red Sox were a Charter Member of. While that meant little to any of us, or the fans for that matter, it did mean that we had a special patch on our uniforms and on our hats for special occassions. That year, the Sox also had Carlton Fisk Day, where we had a special hat to wear and after the September 11th tragedy, we wore hats with an American Flag on the side. You can see where this is heading. Before every game, I quickly browsed the dugout to make sure everyone had their correct hat on. Wouldn't you know that 9 times out of 10, Manny would be running around with the wrong hat on and I'd have to fly all over the place, running up the tunnel, digging through his locker, etc. just to correct it.
Sometimes Manny would remind you that he had the heart and soul of a ten year old boy. It was the middle of the summer and as batting practice began, Manny came over to me and asked me to do him a favor. I, of course, told him no problem and asked what he needed. His reply, "Papi - I need you to get me a cake and card for my fiancee for her birthday. It's today." Before I could even begin to question what I was being told, Manny gave me a $20 bill, spun on his heel, grabbed a couple of bats, and was out the door. My head was spinning. No one at that point even really knew that Manny had a fiancee. Where did she come from, who was she, how long had they been together? It seemed like something that would come up in a conversation or make the papers in a town like Boston. Then, I realized that a man making $18 million dollars this season was asking his bat boy to go out and get a cake and a card for his fiancee about one hour before he had to be on the field for a game. I rushed to Star Market, picked out a card I hoped would make a little sense (I distinctly remember balloons on the front and a simple message inside), and had someone put Happy Birthday on your run-of-the-mill supermarket cake. I debated Feliz Cumpleanos, but truly had no idea if this woman was Black, White, Latino, Asian, or even a woman. I snuck back into the clubhouse, avoiding the Family Room in case she was in there, and gave it to a beaming Ramirez. To this future hall-of-famer and multimillionaire, a cake and a card were apparently an appropriate gift for his future wife. I never found out if she go anything more than that...
4. Generosity
The story of Manny leaving $20,000 in his glove compartment when a clubhouse guy took it out for a carwash is well-known. Supposedly Manny told the guy to just keep it. I never saw generosity like that out of him in our year together, but I do remember a few times where a simple gesture made me feel like a million dollars.
By the time the All Star game came around, Manny and I had made fast friends. He was tearing the cover off the ball and apparently he was happy with my ability to take his bat from him on yet another intentional walk. Major League tradition dictates that players who go to the All Star Game bring back something for their teammates. Nomar brought back enough souvenir hats for everyone in the clubhouse after the Atlanta All Star Game in 2000 for example. I don't remember if Manny brought back anything for everyone after the game in Seattle in 2001, but he did pull me aside and give me his Majestic Batting Practice Undershirt. I still have that shirt today. It's baggy and its green, but it reminds me of the friendship I once had with the hitting savant from the Dominican.
The biggest gesture that Manny ever made to me involved the stinginess of the Red Sox Ownership Group at the time. My good friend John and I had been told that we were going to get to go on a road trip that August with the team. The teams and places escape me, but I distinctly remember that Cleveland was involved. You can imagine what a kid from Hermon, ME thought about getting to go on a 10 day road trip with his idols. I would get to put on my uniform on the road, see cities through the eyes of professional athletes and get treated to the good life. As a 22 year old, I knew some of the guys would take me out and show me a great time. At the very last moment, someone upstairs decided it would be too expensive to take us on the trip and crushed our dream of traveling with the team. I literally had to take my own bag off the truck. It was devastating. Manny somehow found out and offered to pay my way on a later trip to New York. I had to decline because Becky and Tony, my parents, were having their 25th wedding anniversary party back home that weekend. Manny was at least kind enough at that point to sign a jersey to my father for his 25th wedding anniversary. To Tony, Happy Anniversario 8/16/01, Manny Ramirez - later, I realized the date was incorrect and managed to fix it to 8/14/01, a story that will live on in my family forever.

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