Mariano Rivera was signed by New York from his home country Panama in 1990 and first was called up to the major leagues in 1995. Despite being extremely successful as a setup man for the Yankees, with ability to throw an upper-90's fastball, Rivera did not become the most dominant closer in baseball until accidentally discovering what is widely held as The Greatest Pitch Ever - his cut fastball. As legend has it, Rivera was playing catch with his teammate and fellow reliever Ramiro Mendoza. During their session, Mariano was apparently having trouble throwing the ball straight. He recalls, "Mendoza got upset with me, but the ball just moved." After heading to the mound, he found that he still could not throw the fastball straight. This prompted him to say, "Let's see what happens when we throw it in a game." Enter Sandman. I don't think Mariano could have ever envisioned that what he was suggesting would change the course of baseball history. Due to its uncanny movement, Mariano's cutter saw his transition from a very good pitcher to nigh unhittable. It is one of those rare pitches that a hitter knows is coming every time and still cannot hit it. Because of it, Rivera has been able to enjoy the longest and most prolific career of a closer ever. When Trevor Hoffman lost some of his velocity on his fastball, he had to work hard at crafting an amazing changeup. Rivera stumbled upon the cutter. God-given talent like that is enough to make a lesser man look up to heaven and be allowed one curse..."Oh, come on!" A fervent Christian, Rivera is quoted as saying, "I don't get nervous. I trust God." ...saith The Chosen One.
The rest, as they say, is history. After finishing what is allegedly the last year of his career, Rivera has established what is undeniably the best career a relief pitcher has ever had. In a sport that venerates the stat as the end-all, be-all of appraisal, Mariano has a monopoly. His accolades are quite simply remarkable. He has recorded more saves than anyone (652). He has the most seasons of 35, 40, and 50 saves. He has eleven seasons with a sub-2 ERA. Two of the other seasons - the past two years, at the ripe old age of 43 and 44 - he recorded ERA's of 2.16 and 2.11. His career ERA is 2.21. Throughout his career, he's struck out 1,173 batters and walked 286. In sports, we value greatness. Mariano is the greatest.
As great as Rivera was in the regular season, he truly endeared himself to the hearts of New York fans by dominating the postseason. He has forty two postseason saves, which is the equivalent of a very good regular season total. His postseason ERA is an otherworldly 0.70. His nineteen year career practically coincided with a Yankee dynasty, winning World Championships in 1996, 1998, 1999, 2000, and 2009. We are left to ponder how many they would have won in his absence. In sports, we value the clutch athlete - one who can produce when it truly matters. There has been no one better in the most crucial of games, giving Rivera the nickname "Mr. October", as it can be asserted for pitchers.
After tearing his ACL on May 3, 2012, Rivera successfully rehabilitated his knee, and in an unprecedented return at the age of 44, proceeded to save 44 games for a Yankees team that surprisingly stayed in contention through the end of the season. In sports, we value toughness. As witnessed by the inspiring rehabilitation and recovery of his knee and his general demeanor on the mound, Rivera has unequivocally demonstrated true grit.
He manages to instill confidence in his teammates, making everyone around him better. When asked about Rivera's impact, Alex Rodriguez stated, "He's the only guy in baseball who can change the game from a seat in the clubhouse or the bullpen...I've never seen anyone who could affect a game like that." In sports, we value intangibles. Mariano changed the scope of the game before ever throwing a pitch. We value all these qualities in sports, but it's another attribute that Mariano possesses that makes him truly a diamond in the rough.
It was the eighth inning of the game, and the Yankees were winning by several runs. This meant that Mariano would be warming up to pitch the ninth. After having sufficiently warmed up, he did something that I've never seen. He exited the bullpen, which is isolated behind the wall in right field and proceeded to walk over to the railing that separates the fans from the players. That railing is there to act as a clear boundary, and for good reason. The players must be protected. There are steep (and I mean steep) penalties for jumping that railing and coming onto the field. Players don't just walk over to that railing to have conversation with the fans. But this is Mariano Rivera, and he did. He started talking to them and signing autographs - to Yankees and Royals fans alike. But the act of signing autographs is not what softened my heart. Any famous athlete can and probably has done so; I've seen enough autographs given out grudgingly or as if it's some concession that is so painstakingly arduous to be impressed by the act of signing one's name on a piece of paper. Even Barry Bonds, who as far as I'm concerned is the equivalent of the smoke monster in Lost, has undoubtedly signed autographs. No, it was the way in which Rivera interacted with the fans. He was smiling and laughing with them. He was genuinely happy to be there, giving back to fans a bit of his time. The smiles on the kids' faces is what was almost enough to provoke my tear glands into flaring up. I remember thinking, here is the greatest closer to ever pitch in the game - a living legend, and he has walked over to these fans of his own accord and given them something they will never forget. He was about to take the mound and save another game of hundreds throughout his career, but in that moment he did something that I've scarcely seen done in professional sports. I witnessed a superstar become accessible to the fans, giving them something so much more meaningful than to simply behold his greatness on the mound. He didn't have to walk over there, but he did. I walked away from the game that night not venting from another loss to New York but oddly inspired by someone on a team that I had sworn to hate every facet of. A New York Yankee had won me over. Since then, I have followed the twilight of Mariano's career as one of the many fans in awe of him, not merely because of what he is on the field, but who he is off it. The more I observe him, the more impressed I am of Mariano Rivera, the man, as opposed to the superstar.
In sports, we don't always value character. But we should. Character matters. Because like it or not, these players have tremendous influence, and too few of them are leveraging that influence to make a difference in the lives of people. So thank you, Mariano. Thank you for showing us greatness but also generosity, heroism but also humility, a boisterous skill set yet a quiet strength of character. Thank you for giving to us more than just your arm. You were more than a fantastic player; you are a fantastic person also. The world of baseball applauds your contributions to its history but mourns in the wake of losing what is truly a piece of its beating heart. You embody so much of what is good about baseball and at the same time humanity. And you can add this to your list of accomplishments: you made an avid follower out of a Royals fan, damn you. To Mariano, my favorite player outside of a Royals uniform. Exit Sandman.
"Rivera carried himself with dignity and grace, and that made carrying the number a tribute to Jack(ie Robinson). I've always been proud and pleased that Mariano was the one chosen to wear that number because I think he brought something special to it." -Rachel Robinson (Jackie's wife)
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