Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, April 11, 1991 TAG: 9104110197
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: STATE
SOURCE: HARVEY ARATON THE NEW YORK TIMES
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
The symbolism of the trademark Henderson arrival into a stolen base is inescapable. Henderson, from the time he walked into the Oakland Athletics' clubhouse as a rookie in 1979, has led with his mouth.
Years ago, still wearing his major-league diapers, he promised to break Brock's season stolen base record of 118. In 1982 he did, with 130. Base No. 119 was barely off the ground and into a trophy case when Henderson set his sights on Brock's mark of 938 for his career.
Now, here he is, one base shy of Brock's record (before Wednesday night) with 161 games to complete the job. He began Tuesday night by stealing one base in the Athletics' home opener against the Minnesota Twins.
Blink, and you'll risk missing the historic moment. Henderson works fast. It took him less than 12 full seasons to pass the American League record of 871 steals that Ty Cobb accumulated over 22 seasons. Brock played 18 seasons. The record long a foregone conclusion, Henderson is looking well beyond.
"You hope nobody will ever catch you," he said recently at the Athletics' training camp in Phoenix. "You don't know what'll happen in the future, but you try to put it out of reach, so that you can always remember that it's my record, that it will stand."
Cobb's season record of 96, set in 1915, stood for 47 years until Maury Wills passed it; his career mark held for 48. Cobb had the cooperation of the sport, which for three decades worshiped one offensive god, the home run. "Babe Ruth, 1927," said Wills, generally credited with reintroducing the steal as a fearsome weapon.
By the time Wills was handing the baton to Brock as the game's pre-eminent runner, artificial-turf fields were appearing and the pace of the game was quickening. A leadoff walk today to someone like Henderson is the next best thing to hitting the ball 450 feet.
Henderson has been a true representation of his time, the expansionist 1980s. He defiantly inflated base-stealing standards with little regard for the statistical expectations for future generations. He operated without much constraint, without fear, without any real concern for aesthetics.
Getting into position to average more than 100 runs scored a season was important. Nothing more. No one did it better. No one knew it more than Henderson.
"I could have had more by now," he said. "A lot of times, when you've got a good team, you don't steal as many bases. In New York, one or two of those years with the Yankees, they said they had all those great hitters: `Don't take the bat out of their hands.'
"I agree with that now. I tell Vince Coleman, `You steal a lot, but you don't score. So you're not a great base stealer.' It's not about stealing bases, it's about scoring runs. But I told myself in 1982 that if I stayed healthy, I had a chance at the record. I've been going after that record ever since I've been in professional baseball."
Sixteen years, 12 in the major leagues. The media's "Man of Steal" is also, it turns out, a Man of Steel. Sometimes criticized as a malingerer, Henderson argues he was merely protecting the wheels so they might go the extra miles. Because Henderson will leave Brock in the dust before his 33rd birthday, such care now should be a point well taken.
"Base stealing is a grueling, punishing business," said Wills, who stole 104 bases in 1962, breaking Cobb's record of 96. "I have the scars to prove it."
Compared to the muscular, 195-pound Henderson, Wills was a frail 165-pounder whose body couldn't withstand the year-in, year-out punishment. His 586 career steals aren't even among the top 10, but when he stole 104 bases in 1962, he was thrown out only 11 times, an extraordinary success rate of 89 percent.
While Henderson boasts that he "changed the game," the reality is that Wills cleared the base paths for the current generation of base stealers, including Henderson, Coleman, Tim Raines and Willie Wilson.
"The stolen base is just more accepted today than when I was playing," Wills said. "When I was stealing bases, it was a new thing, and people reacted like I was insulting them. Believe me, it got vicious. When I dove back into the bag, they were trying to break my collarbone."
The record won't necessarily guarantee Henderson exclusive rights to being considered the greatest base stealer, either. Some people, for instance, might argue that Coleman, not yet 30 but already with 549 steals, is as explosive a base stealer as Henderson, although he lacks the skills to create enough opportunities to ever catch him.
Henderson is a career .293 hitter, with an on-base percentage of .405, second to Wade Boggs' .440 among active players. Of the best active base stealers, only Raines, whose career base-stealing percentage of 85 percent is three points higher than Henderson's, has comparable offensive skills.
Baseball being ever appreciative of a Will Clark picture swing or a Tom Seaver flawless delivery, there always will be an element of purism that must be satisfied before anyone is anointed as the greatest anything.
"Seems to me that it would be Wills," broadcaster Tim McCarver said. "Him not being the fastest, being so innovative, the way he studied the art of the stolen base.
"With Brock, it was pure acceleration. You never saw him dive back into first, which meant he wasn't taking much of a lead. With Rickey, it's his takeoff, the fact that he gets so low to the ground and explodes. But with Wills, it was pure science."
"McCarver said that?" Wills said from Dodgertown in Vero Beach, Fla., where he was teaching minor-leaguers his own sweet science. "I'd say the man is very knowledgeable, then. I don't think Henderson is necessarily the best base stealer either. Tim Raines is just as good. Coleman. Davey Lopes, for that matter.
"Remember, we're just talking base stealing. And all of the great base stealers, more than anything else you're talking about, have to have one thing: arrogance."
That is what Henderson and Brock talked about one night during the winter of 1982. Over dinner in St. Louis, Brock told Henderson that if he intended to be one of the greats, he would have to learn never to look back. Forget the fear of running your team out of an inning, out of a game. Of feeling like you want to hide when you do.
"That's it," Brock told Henderson. "You don't hide. That's where the arrogance comes in. You know before you steal a base that you've got nine guys out there in different uniforms. You're alone in a sea of enemies. The only way you can hold your own is by arrogance, the ability to stand before the crowd."
For Henderson, this apparently came naturally. He said he always has enjoyed telling people what he would do, then going out and proving himself a prophet.
Jim Guinn, a part-time Oakland scout who discovered Henderson as a 15-year-old, three-sport star at Oakland Tech, remembers watching Henderson explode by opponents down the basketball court for layups, recklessly evade tacklers at the line of scrimmage and drive pitchers and catchers batty on the base paths.
"He always had those muscular legs, tremendous speed, and even as a 15-year-old, Rickey was going to let you know he was around," Guinn said. "Arrogance? Well, he was just a kid. Let's just say he had confidence."
The first time Henderson broke a Brock record was on a steamy, August night in 1982 in Milwaukee's County Stadium. Brock graciously flew into town and lowered himself into a box seat. When Henderson stole his 119th base, Brock walked onto the field and handed Henderson the base.
Before Brock left the park that night, Henderson stole another base, and after Brock was gone, he stole two more. He has not stopped running since, and he shows no visible signs of slowing down.
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