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Unfulfilled yet understandable Canseco didn't live up to his potential, but he had funPosted: Tuesday May 14, 2002 3:25 PM
Sports Illustrated senior writer Phil Taylor touches on a Hot Button issue each Monday on CNNSI.com. After you read Phil's take, give us yours. Jose Canseco hit baseballs harder than anyone I ever saw. I had many occasions to be on the field during batting practice when Canseco was in his prime with the Oakland A's in the late 1980s and early '90s, and no one I've ever seen before or since, not Mark McGwire, not Barry Bonds, not Sammy Sosa, can match the sheer power with which Canseco simply pulverized the ball. It wasn't just the tape-measure missiles he pounded over fences, it was the laser-like grounders and line drives he bashed. As Canseco stood at the plate, muscles bulging in his always skin-tight uniform, waggling his bat in anticipation, you wondered if he might hit the ball so hard it would just explode on impact, disintegrating into grains of white powder. He never did that, of course, just as he never accomplished many of the more realistic feats he seemed capable of. Canseco announced his retirement Monday at the age of 37, after 17 years spent with seven teams. He hit 462 home runs -- 22nd on the all-time list -- won a World Series, was voted Rookie of the Year (1986) and Most Valuable Player (1988), and was the first major leaguer to hit 40 home runs and steal 40 bases in the same season. Yet, he somehow leaves a legacy of promise unfulfilled. He had a fine career that could have been a legendary one if he'd been just a little more serious, shown just a touch more commitment. Canseco didn't get the most out of his talent. But you know what? That's OK. He was the kind of underachiever who made you smile, the charming rogue who could have really accomplished something if he'd just applied himself. He had late-night dalliances with Madonna, drove Italian sportscars and treated speed limits as if they were just a suggestion. He let a fly ball bounce off his noggin and over the right field wall of Cleveland Stadium, and he blew out his elbow in 1993 when he came in to pitch an inning against the Boston Red Sox on a lark. Canseco had tons of fun, and if it cost him Cooperstown, so be it. Unlike others who fell short of greatness, like Darryl Strawberry or Dwight Gooden, there's no element of tragedy to Canseco's story. He was was just a guy who wanted to have as good a time off the field as he did on it. Not every player with great talent is meant to have a career that lives up to his talent. Not every slugger can have the white-hot intensity and unwavering focus of someone like Bonds. Canseco put off retirement as long as he could, hoping to hang on long enough to reach the 500-homer milestone, but he would have blown by that mark long ago if he had taken better care of himself. Injuries cost him hundreds of at-bats over the second half of his career, and he might have avoided many of them if he hadn't seemed more interested in his body's form than its function. Canseco always seemed to care more about how he filled out a uniform than he did about flexibility and conditioning. It was no coincidence that his chiseled body slowly began to crumble. When it did, he became just another stone-handed American Leaguer who could give the ball a ride when he got a hold of one. It's hard to believe a player who was once the most feared slugger and valued commodity in baseball wound up a vagabond DH with Oakland, Texas, Boston, Toronto, Tampa Bay, the New York Yankees and Chicago White Sox. Canseco may have done more traveling than he ever envisioned, but at least he -- and we -- had fun on the ride. Sports Illustrated senior writer Phil Taylor writes about a Hot Button issue every Monday on CNNSI.com. The opinions expressed here are solely those of the writer. |
