Baseball
Hearty subdues haughty
By JOHN ROMANO, Times Sports Columnist
Published October 26, 2003
NEW YORK - It is not their fault. Remember that as you watch players lift Jack McKeon off his feet to a place higher than he has never known.
It is not the fault of the Marlins if their fans have not suffered to the degree of Boston's. It is not their fault if the nation has not embraced them with the same passion as the Cubs.
Just because they were not your first choice for the World Series, do not dismiss them this morning as accidental champions.
Look as infielder Lenny Harris holds owner Jeffrey Loria's face in his hands and shouts, "You were right, boss. You believed in us."
Watch as the World Series trophy is passed from player to player until it lands in the hands of catcher Ivan Rodriguez, who drops his head as if in prayer and hugs the prize to his chest.
Love the Marlins?
How can you not?
They are all that's good about baseball. All we have come to forget. This is not a team built with payroll. It is not a team blessed with advantages.
How can you not love a manager who shows no fear?
Instead of playing it safe, instead of using statistics as a crutch, McKeon went with his gut and started Josh Beckett with three days' rest in Game 6. Beckett had a performance for the ages and McKeon had complete vindication.
How can you not love a team that turns its dugout into a neighborhood corner? A place where wisecracks are expected and goofing on the manager is always welcome. Yankee tradition is a bore. Marlin chic is a riot.
So feel good. Feel good for the Marlins. Feel good for baseball.
"For a month, all we heard was curses, billy goats, jinxes and ghosts," outfielder Jeff Conine said. "Nobody gave us credit for being a great team. This is a fun team to watch."
For the second year in a row, baseball has been conquered by a low-revenue, low-wattage, wild-card team. Anaheim did it last season with pluck and spark. Florida has followed with grit and grace.
The Marlins were outscored by the Yankees and still beat them. They hit fewer home runs than the Yankees and still beat them. They did not overpower and they are incapable of overwhelming.
They sneak up on you. They do not give up cheap runs, but sometimes they'll steal one. They come from behind and they show no fear. They have one pitcher of consequence and for a month they climbed on his back and rode.
Most of all, what the Marlins did was give hope.
They gave hope to teams that cannot afford bidding wars for free agents. They gave hope to fans tired of counting payrolls.
Think about this. There was a time, earlier this season, when the Devil Rays were 19-29. The Marlins, two days later, had the same record.
"It's a great story," general manager Larry Beinfest said. "We showed America what a team is capable of doing if it plays as a team."
So feel good for a team supposedly short on hope. A team with a football stadium as its home and a lack of fans as its burden. Once upon a time, the Marlins were not just candidates for contraction, they were the alibi for it.
"There's a lot of life down there," Loria said. "We always believed there was life there. It just had to be awakened."
There is an important distinction here, so do not be confused.
This is not a story for the hopeless, but rather the hopeful. For those willing to believe when common sense tells them otherwise.
Like a 72-year-old man who devoted his life to baseball only to be left behind. Six months ago, McKeon was sitting home in North Carolina watching others on TV play the game he so adored. For two years he sat without a job and without reason to suspect he would find work again.
And, still, he had hope. Enough hope to pray.
He had been in baseball more than 50 years and had never been on the field as a World Series champion. So that is what he asked in his daily prayers. Not to be given a World Series ring. Just to be given the chance.
"Saint Therese has been looking after me," McKeon said. "I really appreciate it. I'll make sure she gets payback."
When the Marlins hired him in May, they were in fourth place and about to become a joke for the ages. No one had ever hired an older manager.
"They all thought I was nut when I hired a 72-year-old manager," Loria said. "Well, when is it nuts to go out and find a winner?"
Which brings us to the infield of Yankee Stadium on a cool October night. Players as young as his grandchildren have surrounded McKeon and are placing him atop their shoulders.
He is smiling. He may even be crying. At one point, as the huddle moves across the pitching mound, McKeon begins to lean backward and players struggle to keep him from falling. McKeon is lifted upright again and, remarkably, the smile has never left his face.
Say this for the man:
He's always hopeful.
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