Last week when a friend asked me offhandedly if I had ever called a game in which Mariano Rivera pitched, I responded truthfully that I had. But I didn’t see the just-retired New York Yankee relief ace earn any of his all-time record 652 major league saves, ply his trade at any major league ballpark, or perform anywhere as a relief pitcher. At that point, my friend’s face contorted in confusion, which convinced me to quickly give him the full story, as I did not want to be responsible for his visage becoming permanently crinkled.
Some background: Before taking up my current duties as a teacher/father/husband/occasional columnist, I earned a modest living as a radio play-by-play announcer for a series of minor league professional baseball teams. As part of that job, I saw plenty of ballgames ”“ about 1,700 of them, to be precise. But it’s been several years since I’ve seen people get paid to play baseball. In fact, the last major league game I attended involved the Florida Marlins, who’ve since changed their name, and the Montreal Expos, who no longer exist.
In 1992, I was calling the play-by-play for the Vero Beach Dodgers of the Florida State League, and as such was behind the microphone for the team’s game against the Fort Lauderdale Yankees on May 30. The starting pitchers that Saturday night were two right-handers who could not have been more physically different. The Dodger hurler was Eric Weaver, a 6-foot-five, 230-pound 18-year-old who looked like a National Football League tight end. The home team countered with a young man who from a distance looked a bit like Ichabod Crane on a hunger strike. At 6-foot-four tall and an alleged 168 pounds, Mariano Rivera looked more capable of hiding behind a broom handle than he did of confounding aspiring major league hitters. But it quickly became apparent that the Panamanian beanpole had some talent; Tim Griffin’s third-inning single was the only hit Rivera allowed in seven shutout innings.
The FSL played an unbalanced schedule in those days, which is why the Dodgers found themselves at Fort Lauderdale Stadium facing Rivera again just 12 days later. This time, the visitors actually scored a first-inning run on Vernon Spearman’s single, a stolen base, a sacrifice bunt, and a sacrifice fly, but they were stymied the rest of the way as Rivera hurled a four-hit, no-walk complete game, winning 4-1.
So, my friend asked, did I know back then that Rivera was destined to be one of baseball’s all-time greats?
Well, um ”¦ no. Lots of pitchers look good in the minors, but things can change in a hurry. When Rivera faced the Dodgers at Vero Beach’s Holman Stadium in the first game of a June 19 doubleheader, the home team lit him up like a Christmas tree. Roberto Mejia and Jay Kirkpatrick slugged back-to-back home runs in the first inning, and consecutive singles by Mike Boyzuick, Anthony Collier, Billy Lott and Freddy Gonzalez finished Rivera’s evening in the bottom of the third inning. All told, he gave up five runs on eight hits that night, while only managing to record eight outs.
There was an explanation, of course. Shortly after the drubbing, the Yankees shut him down; he underwent surgery on his damaged right elbow that August, which finished his season.
What my friend really wanted to know was if Mariano Rivera was a nice guy. Did I ever actually speak with him?
I did not. The radio station airing Vero Beach Dodger baseball in 1992 broadcast to a virtually 100 percent English-speaking audience, and since at that time Rivera spoke only Spanish, he was not high on my list of potential pre-game show interviews. The funny thing is, I actually did become friendly with a Spanish-speaking Fort Lauderdale player that year. But that’s another story for another day. Besides, these days hardly anyone ever asks me about Andres Rodriguez.
New York Yankee fans would undoubtedly have preferred that Mariano Rivera’s final pitch have come later this month. In their collective view, it should have produced a World Series-ending whiff of some fearsome hitter on the National League champions, finished Game 7 of the World Series and clinched the Bronx Bombers’ 28th World Championship.
But there was no Hollywood ending. Rivera’s actual final offering was popped up to second base by Tampa Bay’s Yunel Escobar, the second out in the top of the ninth inning of yet another dreary Yankees’ defeat.
I’m not overly concerned with how Mariano Rivera’s retirement will go; he’s a sure bet for first-ballot admission to the Hall of Fame in five years, and after that, I’m sure he’ll do just fine.
What I do wonder about is what Andres Rodriguez did in the final at-bat of his career.
— When he is not teaching English at a local high school or coaching youth soccer, Andy Young occasionally wonders if any of Mariano Rivera’s friends ever ask him what kind of guy the 1992 Vero Beach Dodgers radio announcer was.
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