Bill Simmons, the self-proclaimed Boston Sports Guy, writes about The Leap: those moments when good or even great players transcend their previous limitations and solidify their immortality as one of the truly elite.
While not quite the same idea, Red Sox fans witnessed The Leap of a different variety on Sunday night against the Los Angeles Dodgers at a brisk Fenway Park.
Future Soul-Glo spokesman and ersatz ace of the Sox staff, Pedro Martinez, battling the L.A. lineup and coming up ahead for seven innings, saw The Leap. With runners at first at second and two out, he watched a liner take off from the bat of the Dodgers’ Dave Roberts, seemingly headed into the gap in right center, destined to knock Martinez from the game after 115 pitches (tying his longest outing of the season). He watched a rocket head toward the outfield, a laser that was still rising as it buzzed over the infield dirt.
And it would have happened, too, if not for The Leap. The runner at second would have scored, the Dodgers would have had runners at second and third with the tying run at second base, and a shellshocked Pedro would have been yanked by Terry Francona.
But with one, seemingly superhuman Leap, Pokey Reese made his own Leap into Red Sox lore. Reese, in a manner in which no one in attendance or watching at home on ESPN really could explain or rationalize, bounded high into the air from a standing position and snared the line drive, ending the inning and preserving a 4-1 lead for the Sox.
Rarely is it that great defensive plays warrant a curtain call, but Reese’s intense and mostly unexpected ultra-popularity in Boston is a unique situation. The Sox fans, considered by many (including Peter “The Commissioner” Gammons) to be the most intelligent audience in the game, stood and cheered and demanded that their new corn-rowed, golden-gloved hero acknowledge their worship.
Pokeymania is here.
Pokeymania comes in all shapes and sizes. It consists of a sellout crowd demanding a curtain call from their idol, yes, but it also consists of 60-year-old grandmothers buying “REESE” #3 replica t-shirts from vendors on Yawkey Way. It consists of otherwise level-headed die-hards calling up WEEI and cursing out Francona as if he were a composite of Bucky Dent, Bill Buckner, Mike Torrez, and Aaron Boone rolled into one, just because Pokey happened to be left off the manager’s lineup card that particular night. Overreaction anyone?
It consists of Mark Bellhorn, who has performed above and beyond all expectations this season, subjected to merciless boos and catcalls, taunted with chants of “POKEY! POKEY!” after he made a (rather egregious) error while playing second base in Nomar’s first game back against San Diego.
It wasn’t quite so much Bellhorn they were booing, though. The jeering seemed to be less directed as a negative toward Bellhorn as it was a reflection of the crowd’s thirst for all things Pokey.
Pokey hit an inside-the-park home run and a conventional home run in the same game against the Royals. Why isn’t this man in the Hall of Fame?
Pokey is hitting .264 through 57 games, a full .007 over his career average. How could anyone ever consider playing Bellhorn over him? Fire the manager!
Pokeymania even causes an army of supposedly intelligent, well-versed Red Sox fans to bombard WEEI with calls (prior to Nomar’s return) demanding that “Francona keep well enough alone” and not mess with the lineup. The time-honored “if it ain’t broke…” mentality was prevalent on the airwaves. Some callers even suggested (laughably) that Nomar be moved to third base, second base, DH, or even benched and used sparingly as a utility infielder, in favor of #3. Their argument was that the superb defense that Pokey provides at shortstop is infinitely preferable to the apparently Little League-level shortstop play that we have become accustomed to seeing from Garciaparra. An outside observer might have assumed that this Nomar fellow had been the shortstop for the Perkins School for the Blind team, and not a seven-year starter for the Boston Red Sox.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Pokey. He is probably my favorite addition to the 2004 team, right there alongside Curt Schilling. But let’s be rational here. Let’s not allow Pokeymania to cloud the judgment of an otherwise sophisticated fan base. Nomar is our franchise. He defines the Red Sox. He has been a four-time All-Star and a two-time batting champion, which isn’t easy as a righthanded hitter in the American League. He has also manned the shortstop position superbly since 1997, performing at such a high level so as to render all previous Sox shortstops a distant second in comparison, not even considered in the same ballpark with #5. He has raised the bar of performance to a plateau that probably only Alex Rodriguez (another #3) could have ever possibly filled.
Pokey is great. He is a solid player and ninth-place hitter who does spectacular things for this ballclub. He has brought back respect to #3 after Grady Little’s eighth-inning brain fart in The Stadium. He has done everything that has been expected of him, and more. He loves playing the game, and the sheer joy and positive adrenaline that emanates from his face every inning and every at-bat is contagious to players, fans, and media alike. He is a great #3.
But he’s still not #5. Pokey might have picked up the slack, but let’s not forget that Nomar is finally back.
