In the Oakland Athletics clubhouse, the stranger in town was smiling to beat the band, shaking hands and embracing familiar faces. His smile was perpetual.
It was a cover-up.
Nomar Garciaparra was nervous as hell.
Once, the Red Sox shortstop for life (well, we thought), Garciaparra was back at Fenway Park for the first time since the famous trade that sent him to the Cubs. That was five years ago this month. "He's a little nervous. He doesn't know what kind of reception he'll get," said Lou Merloni, who had met up with his longtime pal before last night's game.
At a press conference, Garciaparra admitted "I'm excited, nervous, all that stuff."
A lot was rushing through his mind. The visitors' clubhouse was a foreign place to him. The park where he played for 10 years had changed a little. Seeing the left field wall he tattooed many times sent a charge through him. It was all coming back. "I have great memories here ... playing in front of these great people. There was never a time I didn't appreciate it here."
Earlier yesterday he was on Newbury Street. "A guy came up and shook my hand, looked me in the eye and said, 'Thank you for all you did."' To the fans, he would say, "I love 'em, the way they treated me here."
But, what was in store his first time up, batting sixth and DHing for the A's? "I don't know what to expect. I hope it's great," he said.
And so it was. It was long standing ovation, which had Nomar blinking tears away. Home plate ump Greg Gibson swept the plate off, buying some time for Nomar to pull himself together. He grounded to third. Next at-bat, he broke a scoreless tie with a single to left. He ended the night 2-for-4.
It's been a slow but evident decline to obscurity for Garciaparra. His time with the Cubs and Dodgers was peppered with constant trips to the disabled list. Once great, he was a risk now. Can't stay healthy, can't play. He was moved to third base, then to first base.
Now, he's just a spare part on the pitiful Athletics, pinch-hitting, DHing, after coming off the DL again recently. "I knew this year I'd be a utility player." Those words didn't come easily. "I was on the verge of retiring last year."
He used to own Fenway Park, back when he was a .370 hitter, and before Derek Jeter showed him up one memorable game while Nomar sulked on the bench. It's a moment that stuck with Red Sox fans.
Still, he said he had no regrets. "On the field I gave everything I had. I could look in the mirror with a good conscience."
Nomar had it all once. In 1998 he hit .323. The next season he jetted to .367, which seemed like a ceiling, but it wasn't. He hit .372 the very next season. That was 2000. Before the 2001 season he was a Sports Illustrated cover boy. He was shirtless, and ripped. The headline was "A cut above ... Baseball's toughest out."
It was before the S-word went wild. Was Nomar a steroids guy? Is he on that notorious list? We may never know. He wouldn't comment on players suspected of steroids. He said he'd have to know "the whole story." And those who have admitted? "I think it's disappointing." He moved on.
This we know. His brilliance for most of his Red Sox career was surpassed by only a few who'd ever worn the uniform. Things couldn't have been better for this unique talent with the fidgety glove routine. He was a five-tooler.
He'd cover ground, to his left and right. He'd make plays behind second base, spin like a top and gun the throw to first. He did this routinely. He peppered the Green Monster, and hit plenty over it. He was a six-time All-Star.
His surname didn't get used much. Heck when your first name is Nomar, and you're making your way to Cooperstown, he was just Nomah. He was big. Jimmy Fallon wore a Nomar No. 5 jersey on Saturday Night Live.
It just didn't seem possible that it could all go south for Nomar, but it did. He was up for a contract extension after the 2004 season. He wanted four years and a ton of dough. Young general manager Theo Epstein weighed his options. Nomar waited for the extension.
Nomar, never what you'd call media-friendly, turned sullen, less communicative. On July 31, the trading deadline, the Red Sox decided they could live without Nomar. He was hitting .308 at the time. He went to the Cubs in a four-team trade. Orlando Cabrera came here to play shortstop. Cabrera is Oakland's shortstop now. Life, huh?
What nobody knew on July 31, 2004 was that the Red Sox would be paraded though the streets of Boston three months later, their rings on order. Nomar still felt he was part of that team. He said Red Sox players called him to keep him posted. "I actually felt part of it. I was part of a championship season. I got a ring."
Nomar didn't want it to end the way it did here. "The business side isn't always pretty. ... It was new to me. I didn't want it to happen that way." Yes, he wished he could have played his entire career with the Red Sox. "Always."
The last glimpse of the way we knew Nomar could play was in 2006, when his .303 average, 20 homers and 93 RBI got him NL Comeback of the Year honors. It went downhill fast after that. His lifetime average is .313.
Nomar turns 36 July 23. He's the 11th-highest paid Athletic, a team with the 26th lowest payroll in baseball. It's a one-year contract for a million bucks. It might be his last deal, given his age and history of injuries. Oakland can get someone younger, healthier and cheaper, like the Red Sox did with Nick Green, who's making half of what Nomar is.
But Boston, well, he misses it. It could never be the same anyplace else. "It's a big part of my heart, my life. No question." His eyes had gone misty, for the first time. It was that kind of night for the one-time prince of the city.
(Lenny Megliola's e-mail is lennymegs@aol.com)
