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PHILADELPHIA — Angered by criticism about his two-sport pursuits, Deion Sanders famously doused broadcaster Tim McCarver with ice water in the Atlanta Braves' clubhouse during postgame interviews after the 1992 National League Championship Series.
So perhaps there's still time for Manny Ramirez to respond to McCarver, who called out Ramirez in The Philadelphia Inquirer this week, talking about the “dichotomy” between Manny Being Manny in Boston and Manny Being Manny in Los Angeles. Some of things Ramirez did in Boston, McCarver said, were “despicable … like not playing, refusing to play. Forgetting what knee to limp on.”
But as McCarver stood nearby in the entrance to the dressing area of the Los Angeles Dodgers' clubhouse, Ramirez sat calmly on a couch in the middle, dismissing questions about the comments. He's become a regular media whore, putting on the rhetorical fishnet stockings and heavy black eye makeup and clearly following advice of agent Scott Boras, who wants his client to make nice leading up to a winter of free agency. But he was less forthcoming this time than he has been during the postseason, so perhaps Manny's about to become Manny. Again.
“Talk to me about what's happening now. That's in the past,” Ramirez said of McCarver's comments before the Los Angeles Dodgers worked out in advance of today's first game of the best-of-seven NLCS.
Ramirez has reason to be focused on this series. The Philadelphia Phillies pitch him as tough as anybody, and short of employing his psychotherapist, they have the ultimate source of inside information on all things Manny.
Phillies manager Charlie Manuel was Ramirez's manager in the minor leagues and his hitting coach and then manager with the Cleveland Indians.
“He was like a dad to me,” Ramirez said of Manuel.
Manuel's first meeting with Ramirez came when the player reported to Charlotte without his suitcase or equipment bag, but wanting fare to pay the limousine driver who had taken him from the airport to the ballpark. “Now that he's on the other side, I got to tell him to take it easy with me, man,” Ramirez said. “I'm just trying to get some hits.”
Ramirez is on the cover of this week's Sports Illustrated, after going 5-for-10, with two home runs and three runs batted in, during the Dodgers' three-game sweep of the Chicago Cubs. Ramirez has hit safely in 38 of his past 43 games, going 57-for-163 (.350) for teams that have gone 58-40 overall.
But the Phillies have worked him over. Ramirez is 7-for-33 (.212), with one homer.
“I know about Manny,” Manuel said yesterday. “I've had him since he was 18 years old. Manny's going to get some hits – and if he doesn't get any hits, like, we stand a really good chance of winning the series. But at the same time, we also … we've got our way of how to handle him.”
It would have been a hoot listening in to Manuel and Ramirez discussing hitting, since neither speaks clear English. Somebody must have had a decoder ring. But in and around the bafflegab and malapropisms, when Manuel talks about “mastering” aspects of the game and the mechanics of the swing and how good hitters maintain their swing the way golfer Tiger Woods maintains his swing, in an odd way you can see how there would be a connection with Ramirez, whose nitpickiness when it comes to preparation is legendary.
Manuel was effusive in his praise of his former pupil and expansive in his storytelling. His biggest problem, he said, was keeping people away from Ramirez. “Everybody knows how to hit and everybody wanted to talk to him and mess with him,” Manuel said. “If he went 0-for-4, they'd want to spread him out, change his stance.”
Manuel could not be clearer: He will not let Ramirez beat them. If first base is open, he'll get nothing to hit – although scouts say that Manuel's pitchers attack Ramirez high and inside and essentially give no quarter, that they have been more strategically aggressive with Ramirez than most teams.
“Depends on how long the series goes,” Manuel said when asked how often he'd walk or pitch around Ramirez. “It's going to be hard to walk him four times every day for seven games.”
Like Barry Bonds, Ramirez is, according to Manuel, “the kind of hitter who will make you change your ideas on things.”
He forces you to make tough decisions, like choosing sides in a tiff between an erratic but uber-talented and insular ballplayer and a blowhard former catcher. I know who I'm siding with, because we live more and more under a tyranny of former players. We are all slaves to the pregame and postgame show and the art of mindless and repetitive analysis. Ice water, anyone?
