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Published: October 25, 2007
BOSTON - Manny being Manny.
MBM is right up there with Tinker to Evers to Chance. The sun never sets on Manny being Manny, even here, at the 103rd World Series.
''I got a Manny story for you,'' Jack Carroll said.
He's a retired Boston police detective. For 38 years, from 1966 to 2004, from before the ''Impossible Dream'' season of 1967 to the year the Sox finally beat The Curse, Carroll stood in the Boston dugout at Fenway Park, guarding his beloved team. He has it all.
Now he works the visitors clubhouse, manning the front door while the game goes on. He gets to work early for night games, 11 a.m. usually.
Here's his story.
''Manny beats me here,'' Jack Carroll said.
''He walks by and he goes in that damn hitting cage and he hits for an hour. Then he goes out to left field and has someone hit balls off it so he can play the caroms. Then he goes home. But Manny's here when you're not, working.''
That's Manny being Manny, too.
It is another October and Manny Ramirez, man-child Manny, has broken out the hammer out again.
The Braided One had three more hits and two more RBI in Game 1 of the World Series on Wednesday night. He's hitting better than .400 this postseason with four home runs and 16 RBI.
There he was, hitting that monster over the Green Monster to beat the Angels in Game 2 of the Division Series sweep. There was the Strange One drawing astonished looks across the world by saying losing the ALCS wouldn't be ''the end of the world.''
There was this, too: Manny playing the Monster perfectly to throw out Kenny Lofton at second base in Game 7 of the comeback against Cleveland, even though Lofton wasn't out, which is beside the point.
When he hangs up his spikes, bandana, dreadlocks and weapon of choice, a baseball bat, Manny Ramirez will go down as one of the greatest right-handed hitters in history.
That's Manny being Manny, too.
He makes $20 million a year, but a 10-bucks-an-hour security guy, a rough and tough Boston cop, loves the kid to death, even when he's really, really acting like a kid.
It's as if God picks every 100 millionth kid and prangs him on the head. That's the general consensus on Boston's - and baseball's - greatest hitter, Ted Williams. So it is with Manny.
He is 35. He is 10 homers shy of 500, has driven in 1,604 runs and is a career .313 hitter. He might hit 600 and drive in 2,000. He came off the bus swinging for Cleveland in 1993 and has never stopped, that will get him Cooperstown bronze.
The other particular Manny makes no apologies. He celebrated one of his home runs with his outlandish arms-over-head celebration in the ALCS, though the Sox were losing badly at the time.
When Boston found itself down 3-1 in the same series, it was Manny who chirped, ''Why should we panic? We're just going to play the game and move on. If it doesn't happen, who cares? There's always next year. It's not like the end of the world or something.''
Manny being Manny?
Manny being Plato?
''He actually has the right approach,'' Boston first baseman Kevin Youkilis said. ''Some of us get too wrapped up in the business end of it, the serious side of it. Not Manny. He just goes and does his thing.''
Manny, being Manny, once took a potty break inside the left-field wall at Fenway. Manny, being Manny, once hit a homer with a broken bat.
He's a savant. He's a scourge.
Red Sox catcher and captain Jason Varitek added:
''Manny is a grinder.''
Ramirez missed 24 games in August and September, and the Red Sox, who won 96 games this season, went only 12-12 without him. Manny finished with his lowest totals - 20 homers, 88 RBI - since becoming a regular in Cleveland in 1995.
''He's had to learn how to grind the last few years,'' Varitek said. ''He ran into some points probably for the first time three years ago. He hit a point where he struggled. The majority of this year was a grind. He was finding who he is. Finding his swing. Finding things about himself.''
That homer he hit in Game 2 against the Angels might still be traveling. Of course, Manny hit a longer homer in Anaheim the next game. Jack Carroll was only there for the first one.
There's a small TV high on the ceiling under the stands at Fenway so he can see the game, but Jack cheats a little. He bolts up the runway when something truly large happens, like Manny.
''I've run up there a lot for Manny,'' Jack said. ''You know, he walks home in the morning after he hits? Manny just waves and walks home.''
He's not just a piece of work.
He's a worker.
''They'll remember Manny,'' Jack said.
Ya think?
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