Sara Rimer has a lovely piece in the Times about the teenaged (and subsequent) Manny Ramirez.

Manny hated being the center of attention. He just wanted to be one of the guys. That was one of the things people loved about him. He’d hit, say, two home runs and a triple for the Trojans. Then he’d go back to his block, and the men on the corner would ask how he had done.

Manny would just shrug and say, “I went 0 for 3.”

Hard to imagine that Manny, isn’t it?

Rimer knows that she can’t really explain what happened to Ramirez then or later, why he became the way he is, and doesn’t really try to put it all together; she leaves spaces for her readers to try to fill.

And there’s a sadness about the article that I can appreciate. Much as I enjoy teasing Red Sox fans, I always admired Ramirez for his hitting; he was just a joy to watch at the plate, the best hitter of his time, I think. His career is now indelibly marred, and even those of us who were on the receiving end of Manny’s talents—what did he hit, like, .750 against the Yankees?—can feel some regret about such an end.