So far this year, the Red Sox have come out of the gate hot, taking on all comers in a challenging schedule early in the season. No one other than one man should be looked to as the reason for the A.L.’s top team’s success.
His full name may be Manuel Aristides Ramirez, but ’round these parts (and the world) he is simply known as Manny.
Manny’s come out of the gate hot in this, his last guaranteed year of a $20 million annual salary. Amid proclamations he wants both subsequent $20 million options picked up, followed by a career-ending four year pact with the Crimson Hose, he’s made the march to 500 career homeruns a rather quick one, the Web Gem by Vladimir Guerrero two nights ago notwithstanding.
The start was rocky. It was 2001, the year of Carl Everett, the awe-inspiring dominance of Pedro Martinez, the face of the team in Nomar Garciaparra. In Jimy Williams’ final year in Beantown, Manny arrived to be a homer-swingin’ middle of the order bat. Amid dysfunctionality in the Duquette regime, the head-shorn (hard to believe now, right?) warrior punctuated his arrival on the scene with a monster blast over the Green Monster that almost certainly went farther than 501 feet, but out of respect for the greatest hitter that ever lived’s 502-foot blast, Manny settled for a foot less in the Sox record books behind Ted Williams.
As prodigious as he may have been, he was not happy. As a matter of fact, in Johnny Damon’s pre-Evil Empire defection autobiography, “Idiot,” Damon writes that he was approached by an unnamed Sox player upon his arrival in Spring Training in 2002, telling him he had made the wrong choice coming to Boston, that it was a horrible place to be. It’s safe to say that speculating that the player was Manny Ramirez is not far-fetched.
Fast-forward six years later, and Manny is happy among a sea of red. He’s the clean-up hitter, part of a historic offensive duo, of a team that has two rings in four years— one of which anointed him the World Series MVP (2004). Not only does he not want to be traded scant years after being placed on irrevocable waivers, Boston is now his home.
And what a home it is. Entering last night’s affair with the Los Angeles Angels, Manny is batting an obscene .342/.409/.684 with six home runs, tied for first in the American League (with old friend Carlos Pena).
In the early running, Manny has a death grip on the A.L. MVP award and is dispelling any doubts about his decline, coming off an injury-marred, substandard (for him, All-Star level for anyone else) year following a disastrous 2006 in which he mailed in the final month with an injury that had, shall we say, questionable origin to it.
It’s certainly been one interesting ride in Manny’s tenure here, but I think its safe to say we’re all glad to be along for the ride.
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