Light Years Ahead Of The Field

Tim Raines giggled and pointed to Pirates pitcher Rick Rhoden a few feet away from him in the National League's All-Star dressing room. "That man," said the Expos' leftfielder, "is the toughest to steal against because he's the world's best cheater." Rhoden returned an antiphonal laugh. "You're the one who cheats," Rhoden said to Raines. "You're the one who runs the hundred in 9.2. It says in the rules that a player is supposed to be human."

Across the Astrodome, in the American League clubhouse, Boston catcher Rich Gedman looked at Rickey Henderson, who was getting dressed. "He's built like Superman," Gedman said of the Yankee centerfielder. "When you play against him, you try to say, 'Don't let him bother you,' because there are times there is nothing you can do to stop him from doing whatever he wants to do. He's from another planet. Unfortunately, you can't help thinking about him. We're only human."

The men who have been accorded legendary status in baseball, those who have inspired movies, candy bars or talk of superhuman attributes, have usually been players who could either hit baseballs 500 feet or throw them 95 miles an hour. As Ruth became the force of the '20s, Gehrig the '30s, Williams the '40s, Mantle the '50s, Koufax and Gibson the '60s, Seaver and Carlton the '70s, so these two microchips have come to dominate this decade. "I'd rather have Tim Raines or Rickey Henderson than any slugger in the game today," says Padres manager Steve Boros. "That's not to say I'd take the good leadoff man over the slugger, per se. I'm talking about Raines and Henderson. They're probably the two best leadoff hitters who ever lived."

Raines, 5'8" and 26 years old, and Henderson, 5'10" and 27, have already etched their names in baseball history as base stealers. The gold medallion inscribed with 130, which dangles from Henderson's neck, signifies his record for stolen bases. With an unmatched three 100-steal seasons behind him, Henderson is just 311 stolen bases away from Lou Brock's career mark of 938. Raines is the first to steal 70 bases five times. In this, his sixth season, he's on his way to another 70-steal year.

But stealing bases is not their only game. Maury Wills and Brock could steal bases by the century load, and now so can the Cardinals' Vince Coleman. " Henderson and Raines are in a different class from Coleman or any of the other rabbits," says Coleman's manager, Whitey Herzog. " Henderson and Raines do everything. They can dominate the game out of the leadoff position." In researching leadoff hitters, the Elias Sports Bureau has determined that Henderson and Raines are in a class by themselves when it comes to power, speed and the ability to reach base (see box, page 40).

Look at what they're doing this year. Henderson, batting .280, has 15 homers and 54 stolen bases, an on-base percentage of .376 and a slugging percentage of .489. At his current pace, he will score 151 runs, the most since Lou Gehrig scored 167 in 1936. Raines is hitting .334 with 43 stolen bases, an on-base percentage of .407 and a slugging percentage of .491. The two men are the very embodiment of thunder and lightning.

"When I came up, I thought my job was just to steal bases," says Henderson. "That's how I made my name. But gradually I found out how many different things I can do. Now I'd like to get another medallion with one six two on it, for 162 runs. Base stealing is just part of the job of the leadoff hitter. My job is to score—score and win."

Henderson has scored 770 runs in this decade, nearly 120 more than anyone else. Last year he scored more (146) than anyone since Ted Williams had 150 in 1949 and became the first player since Joe DiMaggio in 1939 to average more than a run a game. Raines has scored 568 runs in his 5� seasons, the most in the National League, and in 1983, when he touched home 133 times, he was three runs shy of being the first player to score 20% of his club's total runs. His run total is down slightly this year, mainly because Andre Dawson, the Expo who most often brings him home, has missed a lot of games with injuries, forcing Raines to occasionally take Dawson's place in the No. 3 spot. Henderson's and Raines's individual run per game averages are unmatched. "Their run-scoring is self-produced because they get themselves into scoring position," says Boros. "If they get a walk or single—and they each reach base 40 percent of the time—they steal. They also get extra-base hits like third-place hitters." In his first 87 games this season. Henderson had gotten into scoring position (including home) by himself 93 times; Raines had done it 74 times in 79 games. Over the last season and a half, Henderson has ranked fourth and Raines seventh in their respective leagues in extra-base hits.

They are, as Frank Broyles would say, "athaletes," the kind usually associated with the NFL or NBA. Each was better known in high school as a running back than as a baseball player—Raines at Seminole High in Sanford, Fla., where he averaged 10.5 yards a carry; Henderson at Oakland Tech, where he gained 1,100 yards one season. Raines also set school records in the 100-yard dash, 330 intermediate hurdles and long jump. Raines had more than 100 college football offers, and Henderson weighed football scholarships from Arizona and USC (where he would have been the tailback between Charles White and Marcus Allen). Each realized, however, that his size was a limitation. "I could have played tailback at Florida," Raines recalls, "but I realized that the further I went, the more my height was going to be a factor." Henderson wanted to play football as well as baseball at Arizona, but his mother convinced him otherwise. "She was afraid that I'd get hurt in football," he says. "I listened to her." So in 1976 the 17-year-old Henderson, a fourth-round pick, accepted a contract from the A's and headed off to Boise, Idaho. A year later, Raines took the Expos up on their fifth-round offer and drove to Sarasota.

Stealing bases came naturally. Henderson had actually launched his base-stealing career at Oakland Tech, thanks to his guidance counselor and godmother, Tommie Wilkerson. "I used to work overtime so I could give the kids money and encourage them at the same time, says Mrs. Wilkerson, who promised Henderson and a friend a quarter each time they stole a base. (When she held the same job at crosstown McClymonds High School in the '50s, she had her husband put up a basketball net in their backyard to encourage a shy, gangly neighborhood youngster named Bill Russell. She also had a lot to do with the maturing of one Frank Robinson.) "I started running for meal money," Henderson says with his trademark laugh. After 33 steals in 10 games, Mrs. Wilkerson says, "Rickey left me broke. But I didn't mind because he was special." In Henderson's first full professional season in Modesto, Calif., he stole 95 bases in 134 games and so infatuated the fans that a match with a racehorse was arranged at the ballpark. Henderson lost by a stride.