On Facebook, I wrote: This is the latest from the BCB, return address of Ash, which is the name of the dorm I lived in while in college.
I am not sure if the BCB knows what a significant person Dave Henderson is in my life. Which is odd considering that I never met the man and he played for the Sox for less than one calendar year.
But Dave Henderson is the person solely responsible for my Red Sox fandom. He also taught me that it's never over (which has had both positive and negative connotations), which is a pretty important gift.
Anyway he was the spark that brought the Sox back from the brink of sure elimination in 1986 and probably would have been the World Series MVP -- if not for the double edged sword of the it's never not over thing. That's how those things work, sports karma.
He was caught in the midst of a youth movement a year later and was traded to the Giants for Randy Kutcher. He rejoined the AL and became a sorta star in those awesome A's mini dynasty of the late 90s. After he left Oakland he finished with the Royals and then became a broadcaster where he began his career in Seattle. He passed away about a year ago and honestly, that sucked.
Your sports heroes are not supposed to die. If these larger than life men can die, that means you're going to die one day too.
God speed Dave Henderson, you taught me to believe in comebacks and also that it's okay to let people know that your favorite magazine is Playboy -- a fact he disclosed in the 1987 Red Sox yearbook.
2019 Notes: I could probably write about Dave Henderson for a year. I can remember Game 5 of the 1986 ALCS like it was yesterday -- though it was really 33 years ago (shit, I'm old). The Sox had a magical season in 1986. From the rejuvenation of Jim Rice to another batting title for Wade Boggs to Roger Clemens going supernova, everything was breaking right for the Red Sox.
Even manager John McNamara couldn't screw this up. At least that's what I thought. In the ALCS, the Red Sox ran into the California Angels and they were not backing down. The cast of characters that were beating up the Sox included Brian Downing, Bob Boone, Doug DeCinces, Bobby Grich and John Candelaria. All of these guys were in the twilights of their careers but they were still doing a lot of damage to the Sox.
But no one was crushing Boston like Mike Witt. The guy was practically in unhittable and was cruising along into the ninth when he gave up a home run to Don Baylor. The Angels were still up by one run and held a three game to one lead. Gene Mauch, who already had a huge collapse on his resume, brings in Gary Lucas. He immediately plunks catcher Rich Gedman. Mauch freaks out again and brings in Angels relief ace Donnie Moore -- who probably wasn't completely warmed up yet -- who ends up giving up the home run to Henderson. The Angels tie it in the ninth and the Sox won it in in the 11th on a Henderson sac fly.
The Red Sox end up crushing the Angels in the last two games in Boston and go on to the World Series against the Mets -- the less said about that, the better.
While this game was unfolding, in Amesbury my father was cooking Sunday dinner. This never happened, but he didn't care about sports and he was furious because his dinner was getting cold, I believe it was steak, peas and mashed potatoes (all his favorites), because my mother, myself and my brother wouldn't leave the TV.
"Eat your dinner," he yelled. "They're just going to lose like they always do!"
Almost immediately after he said that, Henderson lined his shot into left field and three-fourths of our house went nuts. There was no way that we were leaving the den now and our dinner got colder and colder, while my Dad got angrier and angrier. Once the game was over, we came into the kitchen and were about to eat our cold meal. All of a sudden my uncle, aunt and grandmother pull into the drive way with piping hot McDonalds, Burger King AND Chinese food. It was another miracle and probably one of the best days of my life.
What Dave Henderson taught me was immeasurable:
1. Baseball is the best fucking game in the world. Literally anything can happen. A guy who wasn't on the team, was only playing because the starting centerfielder (Tony Armas) was injured and who literally knocked a ball over the wall for an Angels' dinger a few innings earlier, can be the ultimate hero.
2. No game is ever quite over, no series is ever done until the last out is made. Like I said above, anything can happen. And this game is burrowed so deep in my brain that I am forever chasing this dragon, trying to get that same feeling of jubilation and joy again. It won't happen, you can't be 12-years-old in the midst of your first pennant race ever again.
3. Sometimes adults, even your father, aren't right. And sometimes you have to ignore their orders and you'll see something pretty great.
And even though he wasn't even the best outfielder named Henderson, he still had a pretty amazing career. Dude had a kick-ass Fu Manchu, always seemed to be smiling and had a lot of style when playing the field; you could tell that he enjoyed being a major leaguer. Not only that, but he played for 15 years, went to four World Series, won one and was an All-Star. Sure, he never led the league in anything or was particular close to making the Hall of Fame, but that's a career that you'd take every day if offered.
I know that Dave Henderson had some issues with the bottle, but he'll always be my hero. I wish that I had a chance to tell him.
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