HE WAS TOO FAST TO DIE TOO YOUNG, BUT RICKEY HENDERSON ALSO MADE US LAUGH

The greatest base stealer and leadoff hitter was a stirring personality, and it’s sad to see him pass three months after the Athletics left Oakland, as friend Dave Stewart tries to buy the White Sox

You remember the dash. I recall the sass. Rickey Henderson not only was the greatest of leadoff hitters with lightning records — 1,406 stolen bases, 130 in a season — but he also made us chuckle. Every clubhouse had a spacious mirror, and throughout a quarter century of baseball, he would pose naked and say joyfully to teammates, “Rickey’s the best.” When the front office wondered if $1 million was stolen, he explained he hadn’t deposited a bonus and framed the check.

“So each and every day,” he said, “I passed by that wall and it reminded myself, ‘I am a millionaire.’ ’’

He congratulated himself in ways that made us think and pause, such as when he was inducted at the Hall of Fame and said, “My favorite hero was Muhammad Ali. He said one time, quote, I am the greatest, end of quote. That was something I always wanted to be.” He also called himself “the greatest of all time” when he broke Lou Brock’s record.

“Listen, people are always saying, ‘Rickey says Rickey.’ But it’s been blown way out of proportion,” Henderson said. “People might catch me, when they know I’m ticked off, saying, ‘Rickey, what the heck are you doing, Rickey?’ They say, ‘Darn, Rickey, what are you saying Rickey for? Why don’t you just say, ‘I?’ But I never did. I always said, ‘Rickey.’ ’’

Rickey died Friday at 65, only months after the Coliseum was closed to baseball when the Athletics moved to Sacramento, en route to Las Vegas in 2028. He was too fast to die so young, with folks reminiscing about his thrills and charms. Shohei Ohtani should know Henderson has the most home runs as a leadoff hitter, with 81. Juan Soto should know he has scored the most runs, with 2,295. He played for six franchises, including four times with the A’s. No one was more electric and transformational with his feet and his style, at a time when baseball with filled with old-dolt mindsets.

Referring to Henderson as “the gold standard of base stealing and leadoff hitting,” commissioner Rob Manfred said: “Rickey epitomized speed, power and entertainment in setting the tone at the top of the lineup. When we considered new rules for the game in recent years, we had the era of Rickey Henderson in mind. Rickey earned universal respect, admiration and awe from sports fans. On behalf of Major League Baseball, I send my deepest condolences to Rickey's family, his friends and former teammates, A's fans and baseball fans everywhere.”

A cause of death was not announced. Wrote his wife Pamela and his three daughters: “A legend on and off the field, Rickey was a devoted son, dad, friend, grandfather, brother, uncle, and a truly humble soul. Rickey lived his life with integrity, and his love for baseball was paramount. Now, Rickey is at peace with the Lord, cherishing the extraordinary moments and achievements he leaves behind. We are deeply grateful for the outpouring of love, support, and heartfelt memories from family, friends, and fans -- all of which have brought immense comfort.

“In this difficult time, we kindly ask for your respect and privacy as we adjust to life without Rickey, holding on to the legacy he left for all of us.”

It’s impossible not to report on his passing without noting his words in late September, by the batting cage at Rickey Henderson Field, about a city he called home since he was 7. He said he had spoken to Manfred, who pointed out Oakland never will receive another major-league team in an era when the A’s, Raiders and Warriors have moved away. That is significant because his longtime friend and former teammate, Dave Stewart, was with him on baseball’s final day in the park.

“They ain’t going to bring one. Basically, baseball won’t get one here ever again, I’m telling you, I talked to the commissioner. He said all along they won’t come out here, I don’t care who buys the team or whatever happens,” Henderson told the San Francisco Chronicle. “We just messed up. We did a whole lot of damage. What can you say?”

Stewart would love to bring a new team to Oakland, but the political damage between the city and the sport is permanent. Since then, news has broken that Stewart is in talks about buying the Chicago White Sox and moving them to Nashville, where he lives. Will White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf, who is striking out in efforts to gain public money in Illinois, sell the team to Stewart and his financial backers? The city’s mayor, Freddie O’Connell, told a talk show he won’t consider “public financing for a public entertainment facility whose primary usage would be sports.” But if Stewart and his backers presented a plan to buy the land and “fully, privately finance a stadium” in Tennessee?

“When can we start?” O’Connell said.

Rickey Henderson, born in a Chicago snowstorm, wanted Stewart to own a team. “When you have a city that had three big-name professional sports teams, and you can’t keep any of them, something’s wrong,” he said. “It’s sad for the city.” Late in the season, he caught a ceremonial first pitch from his daughter, Adrianna, on Rickey Henderson bobblehead night. Who knew those were the last times he’d be seen?

Christmas Day would have been his 66th birthday. He played his final game at 44 years and 268 days, and when he sat back and noticed the salaries — $765 million for Soto, $700 million for Ohtani — he figured he still could play ball.

Why not? The million dollars on the wall could have been one billion.

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Jay Mariotti, called “without question the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.