From Baseball Pariah to Redeemed Beloved Broadcaster, A-Rod Improves Hall Chances in the Booth

Every time I see Álex Rodríguez on FOX’s post-season broadcasts I’m reminded of an anecdote he shared with me years ago. This was early in his Yankees tenure, before he was publicly linked to steroids, hitting at a ferocious – and seemingly legitimate – clip. A-Rod wasn’t as popular as Derek Jeter but there was no doubt who was the more talented player.

The Yankees were neck and neck with the Red Sox at the time. They were in the middle of a long homestand while the Sox were on the West Coast. As Rodriguez recalled, the Bombers had just finished an afternoon game in the Bronx; Boston was scheduled to play one of the California clubs in a late-night contest.

“I asked one of the guys here if they wanted to come over to my place to watch the game,” Rodríguez said, standing in a corner of the clubhouse. “And his reaction was like, ‘Why would I want to do that?’ I couldn’t understood that. I love baseball. I would watch any game, any time.”

Rodríguez never identified the teammate, although I’ve always suspected he was talking about Jeter. Still, the point was obvious: here was an unusual celebrity. Despite his impossible wealth and parade of models he dated, A-Rod was just a geek who still had the enthusiasm of a 13-year-old collecting baseball cards.

Rodríguez’ intense interest in the sport explains why he’s such an engaging television personality today. It’s clear he does his homework before every broadcast, and his insights about the current Yankees in particular are spot-on.

But ironically it was Rodríguez’ immersion that led to his fall. Idolizing baseball and its history, A-Rod vowed to be remembered as one of the greatest hitters of all time. And with that came an epiphany: welcome to PEDS, the shortcut of champions.

Boosted by chemicals, A-Rod’s imagined roadmap would take him straight to Cooperstown, N.Y. At least that was the plan.

What he failed to consider was that: a) he might someday get caught and b) he was talented enough without the pharmaceuticals. Rodríguez was destined for the Hall of Fame the day he broke in as an 18-year-old shortstop with the Mariners in 1994, but he lacked the self-esteem to actually believe it.

If all this seems like a million years ago, it’s because Rodríguez’ legacy cratered in breathtaking fashion. He finally admitted to using steroids between 2010-2012, but only after two years of denials and lawsuits. A-Rod was suspended for the 2014 season but played victim until the very end, telling anyone who would listen – including WFAN’s Mike Francesa – that he was being taken down by a witch hunt.

In retaliation A-Rod sued Major League Baseball and then-commissioner Bud Selig, as well as Yankees’ physician Christopher Ahmad for medical malpractice. The suits were quietly dropped in 2014.

The Yankees, stuck paying Rodríguez through 2016, brought him back for the final two years of his contract. But he was diminished in both bat-speed and stature, apologizing at every turn.

There’s no doubt Rodríguez’ mea culpa tour was rehearsed, part of a larger strategy to win the forgiveness of ordinary fans, but also Hall of Fame voters. Nothing matters more to A-Rod than what others think of him – it’s been his weakness throughout his career. That’s why he tries so hard on TV; he’s desperate for forgiveness.

Can it work? Can A-Rod actually someday gain the approval of 75 percent of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America?

The easy answer is no way. It’s not that Rodríguez was caught cheating. From that, he could conceivably recover. But it was the systematic lying and fraudulent legal action, filed not just against the powerbrokers at the commissioner’s office but the esteemed Dr. Ahmad.

It was shameful of A-Rod to demean an honest physician, but the slugger was apparently willing to do anything to leverage his victimization. In late 2013, shortly before he was to appear before the commissioner, a group called Hispanics Across America assembled on Park Avenue protesting on Rodríguez’ behalf.

It was a suspicious incident; no one had ever heard of this organization. In fact the New York Daily News speculated the activists were being paid and determined the placards the protestors were holding up were in the same handwriting.

Rodríguez denied any involvement with the group but in retrospect the episode seemed as fake as his insistence that he’d never cheated. Obviously A-Rod would have no chance at Cooperstown on next year’s ballot. There’s a segment of voters who are OK with steroids, but they’re still in the minority. It’s why Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens haven’t yet been elected.

But the calculus may change over time. The older voters – the hard-core ones who believe PED users merit lifetime punishment – will eventually pass on. They’ll be replaced by younger, more forgiving writers who’ll be open to Rodriguez’ campaign for clemency.

Still, the generational shift, if it happens, will occur gradually. Rodriguez might have to wait until his 10th and final year of eligibility before he finally gets the required 75 percent. Even the liberals in the BBWAA will likely decide A-Rod deserves to squirm.

Me? I’m still churning. I wrote off A-Rod as a phony in 2014 but I’m now convinced humiliation has changed him. In time, the stain of those lawsuits and made-up indignation will fade. The remaining question is whether Rodríguez’ 696 career home runs and 3,115 hits were inflated by drugs – and if so, how many.

We’ll never hit bedrock in the search for an answer, but that’s all A-Rod is asking for: an exchange of ideas about a 20-year span of syringes and inflated statistics that defined baseball in the way the dead-ball era highlighted the early 1900s.

I’m nowhere close to being ready to vote for or against A-Rod. But I’m willing to give it time. I’m sure he would regard that as good news.

Featured Image: A-Rod Twitter