Raines steals spotlight in bottom of the ninth
It was a star-studded celebration of Tim Raines held in an otherwise non-descript meeting hall on Saturday, 18 hours before his official induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame. As part of the night’s festivities, White Sox hall of famer Frank Thomas grabbed a mic and described Raines as “the best teammate I ever had.” That’s a description people would have laughed off early in his career, when personal problems and a battle with cocaine threatened to derail his career.
Raines has had solid teammates. On Sunday, during the course of a relaxed 30-minute induction speech, he thanked former Expos Gary Carter, Ellis Valentine, Warren Cromartie, Steve Rogers and Tim Wallach for helping him learn to play the right way. But Raines reserves a special place in his heart for fellow hall of famer Andre Dawson, to the point of naming his second son Andre.
The fact is, one of the reasons why Raines was forced to wait the full 10 years and sweat it out before finally being elected in 2017 may have been that eligible baseball writers considered, and held against him, his publicized battle with cocaine and subsequent 1982-83 rehab. His sophomore year, after a great ’81 season, was disappointing to fans and teammates. Late in September, in a Toronto Star piece by Wayne Parrish, the extent of his problem was revealed.
When Raines reported to spring training in 1983 at West Palm Beach following a stint in rehab he turned to Dawson, a man he had basically stayed away from his first two seasons. He was hiding. Trying his best in ’83 to stay clean, the relationship was able to advance to the next level. Dawson became not just Raines’ best teammate, but his most important teammate. It began in the spring
“It would have happened a lot sooner if he wasn’t so hard to go to, at first,” Raines said. “And I don’t think he was really hard to go to. It’s just his demeanour sometimes can push you away, even though that’s not what he’s trying to do.”
That may be a bit of revisionist history by Raines. The bottom line is, if Raines, as was later revealed, had developed a cocaine addiction during the ’82 campaign, he would have intentionally stayed away from the hard work ethic of Dawson.
“Shortly after (reporting to camp in 1983) I was, like, I realized I love the way the guy played the game,” Raines continued. “He came to play every day. He probably had the worst knees of any player that ever played in the big leagues.
“He needed help to get to the park and he needed help to leave the park, but when the first pitch was thrown you couldn’t tell that there was anything wrong with him. I felt like the only guy that I could go to right now (to help turn my life around) was that guy. I wanted to play the game the way he did.”
The strong friendship that began in Montreal led to this induction on a beautiful late July day, in a beautiful setting in Cooperstown with his mentor Dawson and 53 other baseball immortals sitting in support on stage.
Besides the former Expos great, the 2017 class included long-time Astros first baseman Jeff Bagwell and ex-Rangers catcher Ivan (Pudge) Rodriguez plus, in the builders category, long-time baseball executive John Schuerholz and former commissioner Bud Selig.
Fans from Montreal were actually kind to Selig, with just a smattering of boos directed his way for his role in shutting down the 1994 season, his failed attempt at 2001-02 contraction, and then moving the Expos to Washington. They had booed heavily at the hall of fame parade that rolled past the museum on Saturday.
Back to Saturday, also in attendance at the Raines bash were his parents, sons Tim Jr. and Andre, wife Shannon and their two young girls. Among his peers were Dawson, Rickey Henderson, Dave Winfield, Robbie Alomar, Rusty Staub and Pat Gillick.
“The best feeling, I think, in the world for us ballplayers is winning a world championship,” Raines said, citing his first ring with the Yankees in 1996, “That is until today, getting the opportunity to be a part of this team (of hall of famers).”
There were many occasions throughout the 1980s when comparisons were made between Raines and Henderson, as to who was the best leadoff hitter. Raines took the opportunity to offer his opinion.
“I admired (Henderson) a lot,” Raines said. “Our careers kind of paralleled each other. I never really tried to compete with Rickey, but I really loved the way he played the game. I wasn’t concerned about what he was doing. I just enjoyed the way he played the game. He ran. He hit. He hit for power.
“Everybody tried to compare us and I thought it was unfair, because he was a helluva lot better than I was at that time. Rickey Henderson, to me, is the greatest leadoff guy that ever played the game. And I don’t know if I’m a close second, but it’s hard to find anyone between us the way we played this game.”
Raines was elected in his final year of eligibility, his 10th opportunity. For Raines, the momentum for his election had been building as more statistical analysts joined more old-school hall voters to agree that he was indeed worthy.