Teaching young players

Friday, March 31, 2006 By PETE CALDERA The Record Photo by Danielle P. Richards TAMPA, Fla. -- Seated at his locker, Mariano Rivera carefully removes baseball cards sent to him in plastic sheets, and he signs his name. He repeats the process with an even hand. Each signature is a perfect copy of the one before. Rivera neatly tucks the signed cards into envelopes addressed to people he's likely never to meet. And as he patiently satisfies these requests from strangers, Rivera pauses. He is no different from anyone else, he says. "I came from nothing. Why was I chosen? Why me?" Beyond the burden of finishing the tightest of games, and moving the Yankees toward another October, Rivera believes he has a greater responsibility. "As long as I can help somebody, I'll be happy," Rivera said. Every Saturday afternoon during spring training, Rivera invited a handful of young, Latin teammates to his home. As they sampled the fantastic dishes made by his wife, Clara, the Yankees' closer led discussions about baseball, life in New York and the Bible. "We talk a little about everything," said catcher Wil Nieves, who was amazed when the closer he'd watched on TV for years introduced himself at last year's camp. "I think he's a better human being than he is a pitcher." These sessions will continue in New York, as time allows. "First of all, I listen," Rivera said. "I want to know what they're thinking." At age 36, Rivera has shattered through the longevity ceiling of most elite relievers. But when his playing career is over, Rivera sees himself as a coach, or a consultant, or even opening a church. On the mound, Rivera finds strength from a Bible passage written in his glove: "I can do all things through Christ." For Rivera, "everything relates to the Lord." Whatever future he chooses, he'll mentor the young. "I'll talk to them about baseball, about life. Tell them my stories, my career." With the young, Latin Yankees, Rivera stresses two things. "Learn the language," Rivera said. "That's major." And, "Don't get caught up with New York City. Because New York City will stand and you will go." And when he speaks these reminders, sometimes Rivera hears his own father's voice. "My father was tough on me. He wanted me to do things right," Rivera said. "As the oldest boy in the house, he was asking for perfection. To always give respect. Always, always." Like Joe DiMaggio, Rivera's father was a fisherman. Growing up in Panama, the greatest relief pitcher in Yankees' history used to fashion baseball gloves out of cardboard and dream of being a car mechanic. "It's a tough life," Rivera said of his father's profession. "I wanted something better than that." But when baseball became a passion, and Rivera's whip of an arm matured, his father never discouraged or encouraged him. Now, in the ninth inning, the fans replace Rivera's father, demanding his perfection. "Everyone always says, 'How do you make it look so easy?' "It's not so easy to maintain yourself and keep that going all year. It's dedication. It's hard work," Rivera said. "If I didn't keep fighting, I wouldn't be here." From the locker next to Rivera's at Legends Field, Octavio Dotel -- rehabbing form Tommy John surgery -- constantly hears the same themes about working and fighting. And once the season begins, "I know he's going to be all over me," Dotel said. "He's been all over me already, talking about how to handle the pressure of pitching in New York." Early during last year's rookie season for Robinson Cano, when he made a handful of errors and was accused of showboating, Rivera would quietly seek out the second baseman. "Let people talk," Rivera said, according to Cano. "The next day, you forget it." But with the soothing talk, Rivera never paints over reality. "He's always on me to stay out of trouble," Cano said. "If there's something that needs to be said, "he tells me right to my face." These are not his father's sermons about perfection. "I made a lot of mistakes," Rivera said. "But I always try to battle." Into locked drawers in his mind, Rivera has placed items such as the 1997 Division Series-changing homer to Sandy Alomar Jr., and Game 7 of the 2001 World Series. "I fall and I get up again," Rivera said. "It's easy to stay down there. But I learned from being in the valley. And I enjoy being on top." Rivera was on the mound in 2000, when the Yankees celebrated their last world championship. Six years later, Rivera is coming off possibly his best season, second in the AL Cy Young balloting, carrying the same urgency. "Tomorrow is no promise," Rivera said. "There's only today. And today, we make the best of it. Guarantees in life? There's no such a thing." P.S. I guarantee you Rob Dibble isn't reading this article

Tweet Stumbleupon StumbleUpon