By
Kevin Patra
⋅ November 5, 2009
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After snagging Robinson Cano’s toss to first base to seal the New York Yankees’ 27th World Series Championship Mark Teixeira darted across the diamond. He blew by the greatest closer of all time and he ignored Mr. November, Mr. Yankee, Derek Jeter. Instead Teixeira dove at Alex Rodriguez, the maligned star-crossed third baseman.

In Teixeira’s spontaneous moment of joy he displayed that no longer is A-Rod the black hole of the Yankees. After the biggest win in recent Yankees history Rodriguez became the center of the celebration mob.
Instead of the aloof prima donna the sports world had come to know, the 2009 version of A-Rod seemed a refreshing, dialed in teammate.
Perhaps it was because Teixeira was new to the A-Rod whirlwind that encapsulated his previous seasons in New York that he didn’t hold it against him after the final out. Or maybe it was in recognition of all the good pitches Teixeira saw batting in front of Rodriguez.
Or maybe, just maybe, we finally have come full circle in the A-Rod saga and his teammates finally enjoy him again, as they did in Seattle before he became God’s golden gift to baseball and signed that ludicrous contract in Texas.
A-Rod didn’t have the greatest World Series. He hit a mere .222 (prior to Game 6, where he hit .250 with two walks) with a team leading eight strikeouts. And his one home run couldn’t compare to Hideki Matsui’s .615, three home runs and eight RBIs (six coming in the decisive final victory). Matsui was deserving of the becoming the first Japanese-born World Series MVP, but A-Rod was the playoff MVP.
His performances against the pesky Minnesota Twins and Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim were very un-Rodriguez-esque. He came up big in the playoffs for the first time since donning the Pinstripes. His huge game-tying home run in the ninth inning against the Twins in Game 2 sucked the life out of Minnesota and propelled the Yankees to the first round sweep they’d need to keep their pitchers rested.
It was the first playoffs in which the question, “Why are they even pitching to A-Rod?” was asked ad nauseam. It was the first playoffs where he didn’t seem to feel the pressure of the millions of Yankee fans just waiting to rip his head off if he failed. It was the first playoffs where he seemed calm, relaxed and focused. And it paid off with his first World Series Championship.
Is it mere coincidence that Rodriguez finally preformed to his contract level in the season when he aired his dirty laundry? He finally copped to using steroids and admitted his marital infidelities. Maybe Dr. Phil isn’t always a boisterous blowhard, and by admitting his mistakes A-Rod was able to do what he was paid to do, hit the ball.
The old cliche goes that you have to hit rock bottom before you can pick yourself up. Well, A-Rod was trying to avoid the bottom for years and it got him nowhere. After his press coference where he admitted to using steroids, his teammates seemed agitated and annoyed with the pretty-boy and didn’t want to deal with the turmoil.
But after returning from an injury early in the season we saw a different A-Rod. Perhaps one who, now that everyone knew all his dirty secrets, realized he wasn’t the superman everyone made him out to be. Not having to project an aura of invincibility allowed A-Rod to just be a baseball player again.
World Series Championships aren’t won or lost by one player. It took a revamped (cough, bought, cough, cough) pitching staff and a powerfully potent lineup for the Yankees to end their World Series drought. But for A-Rod this postseason was a vindication for all the past troubles he has had and all the big moments he has failed in.
The win will not change the fact that he cheated to get an edge, it will not make him the darling of the media like Jeter, and it will not stop the A-Roid jokes and boos he will hear at every other ballpark. But after a years of turmoil and regret, after lying countless times and throwing multiple people under the bus, A-Rod can finally look himself in the mirror and know that he contributed mightily to a championship team.
And at least for one moment of one night he was the center of his teammates unadulterated joy.
Now to think what could have been if he would have been honest from the start.
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Kevin Patra lives by the adage: Those who can’t do or teach, write. Currently, he is a graduate student at the University of Southern California studying online journalism, after spending four years at the University of Michigan obtaining a bachelors degree from the school of Language, Science & Fun. Patra grew up watching the terrible Tigers teams of the 90s–Travis Fryman was his favorite player–and considers 2006 one the greatest summers of his life so far.

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