A Warrior’s Farewell

It is hard to imagine any plausible scenario where Jorge Posada could play for the Yankees again next season. Seventeen years in pinstripes, the vast majority of which donning "tools of ignorance," have taken their toll. A shadow of his once potent run-producing self, defensively never better than average at best, and with home-grown catching prospects ready to emerge, Posada's days are numbered.

Now at the end of a long and storied career, all that remains of the 24-year-old backstop debuting in 1995 is his pride, his need for respect, and his warrior's desire to still contribute to the only team he has ever known.

If fish and friends smell in three days, a once great but aging athlete seldom escapes such "don't let the door hit you on the way out" sentiments. As "what have you done for us lately?" becomes the subtext for management to understandably, but unceremoniously hasten their exit, rare is the athlete who gracefully retires whatever their past accomplishments. And this has been no less so for one of the greatest offensive catchers of all-time.

In a pinstriped universe of immortals and hall of famers-in-waiting, it is easy for a steadily outstanding but unspectacularly excellent player to be relatively undervalued. And even though Jorge Posada may well be an "in the conversation" Cooperstown inductee, he clearly fits that description.

How else could a winner of five Silver Slugger awards, a member of six American League championship teams, a five-time all-star, and a four-time world champion be relatively unnoticed? How else could the only MLB catcher to ever hit .330 or better with 40 doubles, 20 homers, and 90 RBIs in a single season be overlooked as a great player? How else could Posada having more RBIs, homers, and hits than any other MLB catcher since 2000 be underrated? And how else could insensitive writers be so reflexively critical of his moment of weakness in asking out of a game this season?

After squatting behind the plate 1,573 times since entering the league, Posada's declining defensive skills forced management to strip him of his catching duties at the beginning of the 2011 season. After six weeks batting a major league low of .165, going hitless in 24 at-bats against right-handers, and clearly struggling with his new role, he was moved to ninth in the batting order against the hated Red Sox.

A humbling "I put myself in this position" pre-game comment to reporters was followed by a request that manager Joe Girardi remove him from the lineup to "clear his mind." Later claiming that his back had stiffened up while fielding practice grounders, he also told reporters that he felt "a little disrespected" by the lineup demotion.

To Posada's credit, the next day he apologized to both Girardi and general manager Brian Cashman admitting that the "nothing serious" back discomfort had been used as an excuse and that by sitting out the game, he had "let some people down."

But apparently Posada's admission of exaggerating an injury, his contrite apology, and his seventeen years of athletic excellence were not enough for writers unwilling to accept any role for compassion in sports. It was not enough for armchair critics unable to understand that even though his demotion was coldly justified, it hardly made such a fall from grace emotionally acceptable for a proud athlete such as Jorge Posada.

And it certainly was not enough for talk show "experts" calculating only Posada's per game salary to understand that in defining ourselves by what we do, when that definition is inevitably diminished by time, it is excruciatingly painful to accept. For those critics inhabiting a black and white world, it may have taken Posada over 6,000 at-bats to earn respect, but only a momentary lapse of judgment for admiration to evaporate.

Although Posada hit well in June, his season of a thousand cuts continued with removal from the everyday lineup in early August. As one of the cornerstone members of four championship teams, his humiliation was now complete. In what is likely to be the final year of his decorated Yankee career, he had gone from designated hitter to designated sitter.

Yet all may not be lost. When Posada apologized to his manager the day after asking out of the lineup, Girardi responded that although "you want to play forever … the reality is we don't play forever and you need to enjoy your career in the midst of that." Arguably the most underrated great player in Yankee history got the message. For in pinch hitting a game-winning 2-run single to capture the American League East crown, Posada reached first base and at last seemed at peace. And after an emotionally-trying final season, the aging warrior ranking 14th in RBIs and eighth in home runs among catchers in major league history surely deserves no less than that.