Jan. 10 -- RICKEY BEING RICKEY

BY SCOTT LAUBER

So, have you heard the one about Rickey Henderson and John Olerud?

Well, it goes something like this: After signing with the Mariners in 2000, Rickey approached Olerud, who had once suffered a brain aneurysm, and asked why he wears a helmet in the field.

"I used to play with a dude in New York who did the same thing," Rickey said.

"Uh, that was me," replied Olerud, Rickey's teammate with the Mets and Blue Jays.

Funny stuff.

Completely untrue, too.

Sadly, that Rickey-Olerud exchange is an urban myth, concocted, apparently, as a clubhouse joke by a visiting player. It's believable, however, in large measure because of Rickey's reputation as self-indulgent and, well, not particularly bright, a characterization that the 10-year-old in me hopes is false. You see, for 4-1/2 years, from 1985 through early 1989, Rickey was my baseball idol. Back then, he was the Yankees' center fielder and leadoff hitter, and to me, nothing was more exciting than watching him take a lead from first base. He drove pitchers crazy and made catchers jittery. Everyone in the ballpark knew he was going to run, and inevitably, he'd still slide safely (and always headfirst) into second base. Rickey was a one-man rally. Walk. Steal second. Steal third. Score on a sacrifice fly.

Nobody was more electrifying.

Or stylish. Long before Manny began being Manny, Rickey was being Rickey. He played with a look-at-me flare that, if he was on your side, was positively alluring. Opponents, naturally, found it maddening. Rickey often referred to himself in the third person ("This is Rickey calling on behalf of Rickey," he famously said after dialing Padres GM Kevin Towers), circled the bases in a pronounced trot after hitting home runs, and talked both to himself and his bat while he stood at the plate. As a Little Leaguer, I'd hike up my stirrup socks, Rickey-style, and infuriate my coaches by emulating his patented "Snatch catch" when I settled under a fly ball. And, in June 1989, I was crushed when the Yanks traded Rickey back to Oakland (for Luis Polonia, Eric Plunk and Greg Cadaret? C'mon. Any 12-year-old could tell they got fleeced).

But it wasn't until years later that I truly realized Rickey's greatness. He played in the majors for an amazing 25 seasons, a quarter-century, and holds the all-time records for stolen bases (1,406) and runs scored (2,295). Think about that for a moment. Base-stealing is a lost art (ask Phillies coach Davey Lopes), and Rickey is the standard bearer. That record won't fall for a long time. And the object of the game is to outscore the opponent, so is there a more meaningful achievement in baseball than scoring more runs than any other player?

But how about this Rickey stat? He drew 796 walks to lead off an inning. 796. Now, before Barry Bonds came along and started swatting home runs, there was nothing that scared pitchers more than putting Rickey on base. Yet, somehow, they walked him nearly 800 times to start an inning. Incredible.

On Monday, Rickey will be elected to the Hall of Fame. Unlike Jim Rice and Bert Blyleven and Andre Dawson, great players who will once again sweat out the results of the annual vote of 10-year members of the Baseball Writers Association of America, the only question about Rickey is how close he'll come to being a unanimous selection. Anyone who doesn't vote for him, well, they'll have some 'splainin' to do.

Me? I just can't wait to hear Rickey's induction speech in July. Like the man himself, it should be one of a kind.

(Photo by Getty Images).