If you could name one player in the history of baseball who was the Platonic ideal of a leadoff hitter, who would you name?

Rickey.

Even today, 21 years after Rickey Henderson’s last big league appearance and as the news of his death just four days before his 66th birthday reached us, that first name is likely the immediate response to the question. That’s your answer whether you’re a Gen Xer who was a child when Henderson broke in with the Oakland Athletics, or a Gen Zer who was a child when he played his last game for the Los Angeles Dodgers 25 years later.

Rickey. If you have even a passing knowledge of baseball history, that name is all you need to answer the question. The name encapsulates so much.

Set aside for a second everything you know (or think you know) about Henderson as a one-of-a-kind personality and just consider what he was on the field. There, too, he was singular, and not just because he threw left-handed and batted righty.

For every team, the leadoff hitter is one of the most important roles on the roster — and it was a role Henderson played better than anyone before or since.

What Rickey did

Think of the crucial traits you want in a leadoff hitter: getting on base, stealing bases and scoring runs. Let’s take them in order.

1. Getting on base.

Henderson is one of just 63 players to retire with a career on-base percentage over .400. Only three players reached base more times than his career total of 5,343: Pete Rose, Barry Bonds and Ty Cobb.

Henderson started 2,890 games during his quarter century in the majors. He batted leadoff in 2,875 of those games. Rose was a leadoff hitter for the majority of his career, but he also started more than 1,100 games in other spots. Bonds started off as a leadoff hitter but is much better known for what he did further down in the lineup. Cobb started just 29 games in the leadoff slot.

In other words, no leadoff hitter has ever gotten on base more often than Henderson.

And of course, there was no player who you wanted to keep off the bases more, because he did so much damage once he was there.

2. Stealing bases.

Steals is the category that will likely always be most associated with Henderson. He’s the all-time leader in single-season steals (130 in 1982) and the career leader (1,406). That career total is almost right at 50% above the second-highest mark, Lou Brock’s 938.

It’s hard to describe how we looked at Henderson during his apex in the 1980s, a decade in which he swiped 838 bags. It almost felt like he had broken baseball. Perhaps the perfect example of this: July 29, 1989, when Henderson was playing for Oakland and facing Seattle, with future Hall of Fame lefty Randy Johnson starting for the Mariners. Henderson played the full game and did not record an official at-bat. Instead, he walked four times, stole five bases and scored four runs.

Every walk felt like at least a double but perhaps a triple; so did every single. The geometry of the sport felt inadequate to accommodate his ability. You can’t help but wonder how many bases Henderson might steal now, with the new set of steal-friendly rules in place.

Let’s say a long-ball hitter dominated the home run category over his peers the way Henderson did the stolen base column. That slugger would have finished with around 1,143 homers — or 1.5 times the final tally for Bonds.

When Henderson broke Brock’s all-time mark in 1991, he still had more than a decade left in his career. He finished that season, his age-32 campaign, with 994 steals. From age 33 on, he tacked on another 412, a total which by itself would rank 68th on the career list.

With so many things Henderson did, the scope of it all now takes on an air of mythology, because he did it so well for so long. Henderson first led the American League in steals with 100 swipes in 1980; he was 21. He last led the AL in steals in 1998 with 66 — when he was 39.

3. Scoring runs.

Despite all those stolen bases, and all those times on base, Henderson likely still saw those things as a means to his ultimate goal for any trip to the plate: scoring.

In 2009, around the time of his induction to the Hall of Fame, Henderson told reporters, “To me the most important thing was stirring things up and scoring some runs so we could win a ballgame.”

No one scored more runs. His 2,295 times crossing the plate is the record, 50 more than Cobb and 68 more than Bonds. Only eight players have ever cracked the 2,000-run barrier. The active leader — the Dodgers’ Freddie Freeman, who has played 15 years in the majors — is at 1,298, nearly 1,000 shy of the mark. It’s a staggering figure.

What Rickey meant

For much of his career, a lot of what Henderson did beyond stealing bases was underappreciated. He played so long that he was around to see perceptions of baseball value shift more than in any time in the sport’s history, but during most of his years, batting average earned more attention than on-base percentage, and RBIs held sway over runs.

The illustration of this came in 1985, when Henderson batted leadoff for a Yankees team that featured that year’s MVP, Don Mattingly. It might have been Henderson’s best overall season: He hit .314 while drawing 99 walks, stealing 80 bases, clubbing 24 homers and scoring 146 runs — his career high, a figure tied for the fourth-highest total of the integration era.

If current analytical practices were in place then, Henderson would have been the likely AL MVP, as his 9.9 bWAR total led the AL (and dwarfed that of Mattingly, who won the award with 6.5). Henderson finished third in a hotly contested race among himself, Mattingly and George Brett.

Mattingly’s 145 RBIs likely won the votes he needed for that award, but he wouldn’t have reached that total without Henderson in front of him: Donnie Baseball drove in Rickey 56 times that season. Henderson did win an MVP award in 1990 — but he probably should have won one or two more.

Eventually, the analytics caught up with Henderson’s greatness, and there are few who would dispute his stature at this point. We have WAR at our disposal now, and Henderson’s total of 111.1 is the 19th highest in the history of a sport that dates to 1871 — without a doubt, among the very best who ever put on a uniform.

Still, he was more than his numbers. For legions of Gen X baseball fans, especially those on the West Coast, he represents childhood. Whether it was the mere act of stealing a base or imitating his sleek, low-slung, head-first slide into the bag, he was one of those players you would pretend to be on the sandlot. He was one of those players you wished you could be.

If you were of that generation, you were about 10 years old when he arrived in Oakland in 1979. By the time he finally left the majors — not of his own volition, as Henderson would have played on and on if it were up to him — you were in your mid-30s, with adult responsibilities and virtually no memory of Major League Baseball without Rickey.

Henderson was almost without antecedent, the only real historical comparison being the legendary Cool Papa Bell of the Negro Leagues. Whatever you might think of Henderson given his quirky and often misinterpreted public persona, the man knew his history. He would sometimes use “Cool Papa Bell” as an alias when checking into a hotel.

My favorite anecdote about Henderson might be apocryphal, at least in that I have no way to verify it. But it’s harmless, so I’ll pass it along. There’s something beautiful in imagining it to be true.

A few years ago when I was in Cooperstown, I was chatting with a man who kept a boat on one of the docks of Otsego Lake, which spreads away from the bottom of the hill on which Cooperstown resides.

The man told me that during the weekend on which Henderson was inducted, Rickey approached him and asked how much it would cost to be taken out in the man’s boat. They agreed to a price and headed out. Henderson was “dressed to the nines” and wearing wraparound sunglasses.

The unlikely pair went out into the water a ways, then stopped. Henderson sat there looking back at the village, home to baseball’s immortals, arrayed along the hillside. He didn’t speak. Just looked, swaying with the water. After a few minutes, Henderson asked to be taken back to shore. That was it. The man had no idea what Henderson was thinking about during those minutes.

That was in 2009, four years after Henderson played his last season in independent ball in 2005. For the 39 years before that, since his pro career began in the minors in 1976 when he was 17, he did it his way, which was the perfect way.

In doing so, he became more than a player, but an archetype. Rickey, the leadoff man. No one will ever be more suited for a role on the baseball field than he was for that job. And no one is likely to ever do it better.

AUSTIN, Texas — Jaydon Blue ran for 146 yards and two touchdowns, the last a 77-yard burst in the fourth quarter, and Texas beat Clemson 38-24 on Saturday in the first round of the expanded College Football Playoff.

Blue’s fourth-quarter touchdown came after Clemson rallied from down 31-10 to 31-24 on Cade Klubnik‘s third touchdown pass.

Texas (12-2) advanced to the Jan. 1 Peach bowl to play Big 12 champion Arizona State. The Longhorns opened as 13.5-point favorites, according to ESPN BET.

“You can’t win [the championship] if you don’t win the first one,” Texas coach Steve Sarkisian said. “We did that.”

Blue also scored on a 38-yard cut-and-dash burst in the second quarter. On his second, he dove into the line, shook a tackler and then outraced three more to the end zone with just 11 minutes left.

Blue missed a game this season with a nagging ankle injury and saw his carries reduced over several games because of fumble problems. He clutched the ball tightly to his chest when a defender tried to rip it away.

“It was a sign of relief after everything I’ve been going through,” Blue said. “I stayed patient, I saw a crease and it was everything [open] from there.”

Quintrevion Wisner added 110 yards rushing and two first-half touchdowns for Texas. Quinn Ewers passed for 202 yards and a touchdown.

Klubnik, who grew up in Austin, passed for 336 yards and rallied the Tigers (10-4) in the second half against a Texas defense that had given up just four passing touchdowns all season.

The runner-up in the Southeastern Conference, Texas is the only one of last season’s four playoff teams to make the new 12-team field. Clemson won the ACC championship to make the playoff. The Tigers were the No. 12 seed in their first appearance since 2020 and seventh overall.

“It’s not easy to get on this stage [again], and they earned it,” Sarkisian said. “I think college football got this one right. This idea of a home playoff game with a 12-team format was pretty special.”

Takeaways

Clemson: The Tigers had three big fourth-down chances in the fourth quarter. They turned the first one into a touchdown when Klubnik threw to T.J. Moore. But they came up short on the next two. Keith Adams Jr. was stuffed at the Texas 1 and Klubnik’s pass at the Texas 26 was incomplete with just over a minute left.

Texas: The Longhorns had some injury scares that could be worrisome with more games ahead. Wisner, starting offensive tackle Cam Williams and center Jake Majors all left the field in two plays in the second quarter. Sarkisian said the coaching staff opted to keep Wisner and Majors out in the second half. Williams needed help to get off the field and will have tests on his knee overnight.

Up next

Clemson will try to defend its ACC title next season and earn its eighth playoff berth.

Texas moves on to face Arizona State in the next round. The Longhorns left the Big 12 before Arizona State joined that league this season.

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

STATE COLLEGE, Pa. — It was exactly the type of moment that would’ve fueled underpinned every criticism leveled at Penn State coach James Franklin, college football’s standard bearer for the “best coach who hasn’t won the big one” label.

Facing a fourth-and-1 at his own 19, up 14 with 9:30 to play in the first half of Penn State’s first-round playoff game against SMU, Franklin left his offense on the field. The unit had done little through three prior drives, but two pick sixes by the defense had the crowd of 106,000 on its feet and SMU on its heels. Now, here was Franklin, rolling the dice in a moment that might be a red carpet for the Mustangs to march back into the game.

And, as it’s gone so many times when Penn State has stared victory in the biggest moments in the face, the call backfired.

“I bet you were tweeting your tail off,” Franklin joked to media when asked about the play afterward.

So, here he was again: Franklin outsmarting himself, stubbing his toes in a critical moment, a decision that would surely doom Penn State again.

Only this time, the story ended differently, and looking back, it was a call that set the tone for what proved to be a dominant 38-10 Penn State win.

Four plays after the doomed fourth-down try, with SMU facing a second-and-goal at the 7, Dom DeLuca picked off a Kevin Jennings pass, the Nittany Lions offense roared to life on the ensuing drive, and a 25-yard Kaytron Allen touchdown delivered what felt like a mortal wound to SMU’s comeback hopes.

“I told the guys we were going to call the game aggressively,” Franklin said. “I wanted them to play aggressively. Don’t play on your heels, play on your toes. Fourth-and-1, I can’t say that all week long and then not do it.”

Saturday’s win — Penn State’s first in the College Football Playoff, and just the sixth in 28 tries against top-12 teams in Franklin’s Nittany Lions tenure — had the feel of a turning point for a program dogged by the criticism that it comes up small too often in the biggest moments.

It was an emphatic statement. It was a big win. And for Franklin, it was victory No. 100 at Penn State.

“Coach Franklin, he gets a lot of criticism that’s undeserved,” Penn State QB Drew Allar said. “He’s done a lot more than people give him credit for. Winning his 100th game is special, and to be a part of that and the team that delivered that 100th win for him and to have it on a stage like the playoffs, at home in Beaver Stadium, it’s truly special.”

The win sets up Penn State for a date with third-seeded Boise State at the VRBO Fiesta Bowl on Dec. 31, another opportunity for a signature victory, but in the aftermath of Saturday’s win against SMU, the Nittany Lions were hardly thumping their chests or thumbing their nose at critics of the program.

Instead, it was a moment of celebration.

“I remember in training camp talking to the guys that, I wanted these type of moments for them,” Franklin said. “It’s emotional for all of us. … I appreciate the 100 wins and all that, but to me, I’m at a point in my career, it’s all about the players and the staff.”

And yet it was Franklin’s gamble deep in his own territory, risking all the proverbial momentum on a fourth-and-1, that ultimately sparked life into his offense and secured the outcome.

That the snap was fumbled and the fourth-down try failed will be a fact lost to history should Penn State keep winning. What’s worth remembering, said offensive coordinator Andy Kotelnicky, is that neither Franklin nor his team showed a shred of hesitation in making the call.

“He doesn’t get enough credit for what he’s done here consistently,” Kotelnicki said of Franklin.

Penn State is now 12-2 on the season, the program’s first 12-win campaign since 1994. Franklin’s team has won 33 games over the past three seasons. And yet, the absence of marquee wins over Big Ten rivals Michigan and Ohio State and a 2-15 record against top-12 opponents since 2018 has been a dose of cold water on an otherwise historic run.

Allar said he’s used to hearing the grumbling, but Saturday’s playoff game was never about dispelling a narrative or getting Franklin to win No. 100.

“We don’t take these moments for granted, but I don’t care what anybody says from the outside,” said Allar, who threw for 127 yards, ran for 70 and scored twice on the ground. “There’s a lot of people out there that don’t know what goes on behind the scenes. That’s part of playing at a place like Penn State, but it’s part of sticking to our guns and sticking to our process.”

That process, Franklin said, begins anew Sunday.

If a playoff win helped begin to pry a proverbial monkey off his back, the job won’t be finished until Penn State has a national championship trophy, and so the biggest game Franklin wants to win is the next one, he said.

“A lot of college coaches talking about this being a four-game season. It’s not,” Franklin said. “It’s a one-game season. … How you value those reps, how you prepare, will give you an opportunity to play again. We’re in a one-game season and we just extended our season one more game.”