Madison Taylor

 Here’s my Sunday print column for this week. Last week I wrote about an Alamance County character who’s in a little hot water. Call that one “Cary being Cary.” This week I’m writing about somone with ties to Alamance County who’s perhaps an even bigger character — and also in a spot of  trouble.

But this guy makes a few mil a year so how big could his trouble really be, right? Right?

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Special edition bobblehead doll of Manny in a Burlington Indians uniform.

Manny wasn’t “Manny” yet, not by a longshot. But fans could see it, feel it. Shoot, nearly anybody who regularly prowled Burlington Athletic Stadium in the summer of 1991 knew that this Ramirez kid was going to be special.

That is, of course, unless he screwed it up. And kids do that sometimes, don’t they? Adults do, too, come to think of it.

Yes, the day Manny Ramirez came into Burlington for the first time he was the No. 1 draft pick for the Cleveland Indians. He was an 18-year-old native of the Dominican Republic who arrived by way of New York and George Washington High School in Manhattan. He was ready to play his first season of professional baseball in the league set aside specifically for raw rookies out of high school or college.

And boy could this kid hit.

At that time I was well clear of writing about sports for a living and in the habit of merely watching baseball for fun again.

I hadn’t been out long enough to stop missing those nights sitting in the press box atop the grandstand. I spent time there over the years with the likes of Don Chandler, the official scorer for the Burlington Indians in those days or John Brockwell, the P.A. announcer who now works for WPCM and calls hockey action for the Carolina Hurricanes or the late Dick Huffman, the longtime voice of the Cummings Cavaliers and summertime scoreboard operator at the stadium.

But going to the ballpark and just watching the game with no score to keep or story to write afterward was mighty appealing. So was watching Manny Ramirez hit line drives all over the place.

Like I said, Manny wasn’t “Manny” yet – the oddball baseball savant now so widely recognized in sports circles he can whittle his name down to just one, same as Albert, Barry, Peyton, Kobe or Lebron.

This was before he led title-thirsty Cleveland to the brink of a championship then delivered the real goods to World Series-starved Boston. It was prior to the 2008 whine and poutfest that shipped him in haste from Boston and into Los Angeles. In 1992, there was no Mannywood or kids in fake dreadlocks wearing Ramirez jerseys in the stands.

Back then he wasn’t a certified flake, at least not so anybody could notice right away. The truth is, most Burlington fans didn’t really know much about him. He spoke little English and didn’t say a lot for publication. Not one person in the stands or press box witnessed his Appalachian League antics, shook their head and said, “That’s just Manny being Manny” the way folks do now every night on ESPN.

No, the kid just hit, drove in runs, and hit some more. He did it so often he led the league in batting and RBI.

Then Burlington shipped him off in the general direction of the parent club’s Cleveland operation. That’s how it works.

“Manny is a special player that comes around very few times in an organization,” said the 1992 Burlington manager Minnie Mendoza as a way of explaining to local fans that they wouldn’t see Manny’s like anytime soon – certainly not in 1992.

Finding the constraints of a $12 million annual salary challenging, Manny auctioned his gas grill on eBay.

Manny is officially “Manny” today with 533 career home runs. At 36, he’s hardly a kid anymore even though he plays one on TV. He’s also the owner of two World Series rings and the title of “Best right-handed hitter in the game.” Certainly on his way to being a lock first-ballot hall of famer.

Unless, of course, he screws it up.

That happened on Thursday when Manny got another title, “Newest tarnished baseball hero.” Baseball card companies could issue their own series on this subject – if anyone out there cares to collect them.

“Manny” burst into career flames the way nearly all do these days: A positive test for performance enhancing drugs. In this case it’s a hormone treatment for women experts say steroid users take when a cycle comes to an end. He got a 50-game suspension and did not contest it in the slightest.

Ramirez, in a statement prepared by a high-priced agent, contends he received the drug by mistake from a doctor in Florida. His evidence backing up this claim is skimpy. It really doesn’t matter, though. Baseball fans have heard similar fables from other players for so long now most stopped listening already.

So now Manny as “Manny” has reached a level previously attained by Mark McGuire, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and Alex Rodriguez – all superstars linked to drug scandals from which they can never be extricated.

And I can’t help but shake my head and mutter, “That’s just Manny being stupid.”

 Madison Taylor is executive editor of the Times-News. Contact him by calling 506-3030 or by e-mail at madison_taylor@link.freedom.com.

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