The last time I saw Rickey Henderson was late September in the Athletics’ clubhouse as the last, sad homestand at the Oakland Coliseum wound down to its final game.
I’d known him since 1979 when he was brought up to the big leagues in his first run with the A’s. He was 20 at the time and one prong of the next-generation Oakland outfield of Rickey, Dwayne Murphy and Tony Armas. It was the perfect outfield of talented, young players at the time, and it cost the always-penurious owner Charlie Finley less than $100,000.
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No one back then knew who Henderson would become: the greatest base stealer and lead-off hitter in Major League Baseball history, commanding $44.5 million in his 25-year career—a pittance in comparison to the $51 million a season over 15 years Juan Soto recently received to sign with the New York Mets.
That September day, Rickey was distraught about the A’s leaving Oakland, temporarily to West Sacramento next season and then perhaps on to Las Vegas in 2028 or beyond. But he said as a roving coach, he intended to go with them.
“It’s a damn shame,” Henderson said. “Heartbreaking. I’m a native of Oakland and we’ve lost everything. It’s almost like it’s going to be a ghost town. That’s the sad thing about it.”
Nothing said Oakland baseball more than Rickey, I wrote back then. He grew up there. Played his high school ball there. Starred for the A’s in that old building multiple times in his long career. And on Friday he died there, at 65, in an Oakland hospital, the victim of pneumonia and asthma that caused him to choke on his own fluids.
His death was a shock to those closest to him because he seemed to be in perpetual good health.
“I still can’t believe it. He was a picture of fitness,” Ken Korach, the long-time A’s play-by-play announcer, said in a text message. “Rickey’s passing was a poignant final punctuation for the A’s last year in Oakland.”
Henderson’s death was not baseball’s only loss in 2024 or the recent years prior. He’s the 17th member of the National Baseball Hall of Fame to die since Al Kaline passed away on April 6, 2020, during the first months of the COVID-19 pandemic. Ten of those great men died within a year of Kaline, including Tom Seaver, Whitey Ford, Tommy Lasorda and ending with Hank Aaron. It was the most in one year in Hall history. This year alone, Henderson was joined in baseball heaven by Willie Mays and Orlando Cepeda.
Luis Aparicio, at 90, and Sandy Koufax, turning 89 on Monday, are the oldest remaining players left in the Hall. Former commissioner Bud Selig is also 90.
We have lost an entire golden generation of great players. This year also brought the passing of non-Hall of Famers Fernando Valenzuela, Pete Rose and Luis Tiant, among others.
Henderson was not that old by today’s standards. Neither were Tony Gwynn and Kirby Puckett, for that matter. Gwynn died at 54 in 2014 after a long battle with the effects of parotid cancer. Puckett had a stroke before he died at 45 in 2006.
Those are the outliers. For the others, time is simply taking its toll.
Henderson played for nine teams in his seemingly endless career and brought his thrilling style of play and winning ways to the A’s four different times and the San Diego Padres twice.
In Oakland, former general manager Sandy Alderson said in a recent statement: “I traded Rickey twice and brought him back more times than that. He was the best player I ever saw play.”
Some of those trades were because Rickey soured on his contracts and became a nuisance. But he was always an enticing player to bring back.
At mid-season of 1989, Alderson obtained him again in a trade with the New York Yankees just in time for the A’s to sweep the cross-bay San Francisco Giants in that earthquake-interrupted World Series. He dominated that postseason, winning MVP of the American League Championship Series victory over Toronto, and batting .474 in the World Series. He was 15-for-34 overall with nine walks, 11 stolen bases, eight of them vs. the Blue Jays.
In San Diego, the late GM Kevin Towers signed Rickey in 1996, and he helped the Padres make the playoffs for the first time since 1984. Rickey was then traded to the Angels in 1997. A few years later, when he left the Seattle Mariners as a free agent, Towers received a voice mail from Rickey during the spring of 2001, recalled George Will in a recent Washington Post column.
“KT! It’s Rickey! Calling about Rickey! Rickey wants to play baseball!”
Rickey was renowned for referring to himself in the third person. Towers signed him again on March 21, 2001.
That was Gwynn’s last season, ending with his left knee in such bad shape he was relegated to pinch hitting. But he could still hit, and when he did reach base manager Bruce Bochy would immediately replace him with a pinch runner. During the next-to-last game of that season against the Colorado Rockies at old Jack Murphy Stadium, Gwynn and Henderson both pounded out doubles. It was the last of 3,141 career hits for Gwynn and No. 2,999 for Henderson.
The next day was Gwynn’s final game, and huge festivities were planned at the stadium. In deference to Gwynn—and I know this is a true story because I was there—Henderson went to Gwynn and asked him: “Do you mind if Rickey gets his 3,000th hit in your last game? Because if you do, I won’t play.”
Gwynn told Rickey to go for it.
In the first inning on Oct. 7, 2001, Rickey led off with a bloop double to right field for hit No. 3,000 and immediately left the game. Gwynn pinch hit in the ninth inning and grounded to short in his final at-bat. Henderson would finish with 3,055 hits and a record 1,406 stolen bases.
Now they’re both gone. But their legacies certainly remain.
“Nine different teams, one unforgettable player,” Alderson wrote. “Sandy gonna miss Rickey.”
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