There's plenty on catcher Varitek's plate
It was the summer of 1999 and, in between his catching duties for the Red Sox, Jason Varitek was watching. He watched as the United States women's soccer team won the World Cup. He watched as an exuberant Brandi Chastain stripped off her shirt after converting a penalty kick. But, of far more importance, at least as far as the Sox were concerned, he watched how the soccer players interacted. He listened to them. He noticed how they played together, how they related, how they understood one another.
Because he knew it worked for them. And, he assumed, it could work for him.
''They played together so long and communicated so well together that they knew each other," Varitek said. ''Not that they wake up in the morning and they talked to each other every second, but they communicated enough to where they knew what each other needed to do on the field, what their strengths were, what different things they could help each other with. And it was a very special thing to watch.
''That was a pretty big eye-opener for me."
Nearly seven years have passed since that summer, and much has changed for the catcher. He was the primary catcher for the first time, two years after he arrived in Boston. He wouldn't be named captain for more than five years, not until he had slammed his mitt in the face of Alex Rodriguez and the Sox had won a World Series. But in those moments, while watching that group of women, he started preparing -- he is, after all, known for his preparation -- for a time when he would need to create not just a team but a team.
He is older now -- his age clicks to 34 today -- and in addition to his normal defensive and offensive duties, he will have to contend with other issues this season. Not only will he have to finish the process, already begun in spring training, of integrating the new Red Sox (from Coco Crisp to Mark Loretta to Josh Beckett), he will have to answer the questions that have plagued him since September of last season, when his dropoff at the plate might have been more than just the regular statistical dip for a player at his position.
But he doesn't want to think about that. He would rather turn his thoughts over to those soccer players, the ones who changed the way he felt, who understood communication at the highest level of competition, something he needs this year, with a clubhouse far different from the one he left at the end of 2005.
''As quiet as I seem -- I can be -- that's just a concentration thing," Varitek said. ''But get away from it, I love to talk the game. I want to see when Mike Lowell is swinging the bat good. I want to know what he looks like, see what he looks like, and when he's not so good. I want to have the picture frame between the two. I want to know what he's thinking when he's going good, and when [he's not] all of a sudden, where's his mind-set now?
''That's when you get to know each other."
It appears to be only a momentary lapse but, in this quieter clubhouse, it's understandable.
Much is different in this space, new faces, new emotions, new styles, new ideas. Without the bonds that connected the 2003 team or the 2004 World Series champs or even the 2005 club, this could easily become a wash of individuals, slipping into the old Red Sox mentality of every man for himself.
''I think we're doing a pretty good job of getting together, going to have dinner," Varitek said. ''Everybody's trying to get to know each other even more. That's good, because I think a lot of places it doesn't happen that way. Everybody hits the park, splits, nobody together. Well, that isn't the way we do it here. We try and spend time and get to know each other, what's going on in each other's brains."
Varitek often sits tucked away by his locker, a folder of charts open on his knees, his face wrapped in pitch counts and locations and tendencies. In Baltimore this past weekend, that placed him back in the corner, by the lockers of pitchers Tim Wakefield and Curt Schilling. He seems to be alone, doing his ''legendary preparation," as new backup catcher Josh Bard termed it, though it might just as well be a glossary of his teammates.
Because as much as his bat helps, and as much as his knowledge of pitchers and hitters and the game itself helps, there is more to Varitek. And few outside the walls of this space ever see it.
''I think the thing that he has that people don't see on the other side is he keeps the team loose," said Bard. ''He's a funny guy.
''I think when you're on the other side, you view him as a guy that's straight business, all the time, 24 hours a day. I think that his ability to make pitchers feel comfortable, make rookies feel comfortable, those things are what makes this team special. He's a big part of that. He's helped me a ton since I came over here.
''Obviously, he would be a great, great player, regardless of whether he was a good guy or not, but I think what he brings to the table in the clubhouse is really big for us."
''You guys have been telling me that since I turned 31, so keep telling me," Varitek said. ''That's the way I feel about it. Everybody wants to try to find something to pick out. I'm fortunate to have played this game, and I can't control what people want to read into things statistically.
''Keep pointing at it till I'm done playing. Then I'll be too old."
While some catchers -- Mike Piazza, Javy Lopez -- drift in and out of the position, Varitek always has been solely a catcher. He never in his major league career has played a game at first base, and has played just 12 as designated hitter. He always has been most valuable for his handling of pitchers, for his knowledge behind the plate, which also allows him to forget -- far more easily than most -- bad days at the plate. Or even bad months.
''That's the beauty of playing my position," said Varitek, the rare player whose contract (four years, $40 million) has more to do with his defense and clubhouse persona than his offense. ''I don't know if I'd be good playing another position because I don't know if I'd have that. It's such a big part, being able to separate offense and defense. I could go 0 for 20 and we could be in a great spot, then have one hit maybe make a difference in the 21st at-bat. You don't let those things affect what goes on defensively. That's the most important thing I have to do.
''I could hit .200 and help this team win a lot of games."
That might be the future. Through the end of August last season, Varitek was hitting .301, but once September arrived, that average dropped precipitously. He hit just .173 in the final month, after batting .265 in September 2004 and .250 in September 2003. Most catchers tire as the year progresses, and with age, the problem is exacerbated. Exhausted legs, brittle knees, aches everywhere mean a lower batting average, and less power as the season wears on.
Not that Varitek will be getting a break this season, with manager Terry Francona expecting him to be behind the plate for about the same amount of games as last year (130), though the manager said he is ''cognizant of the stress that his position puts on him."
''I know what the statistics say about aging, but I think our organization felt that there are certain people you need to view differently because of their work ethic, because of what they can do," Francona said. ''You believe in them beating the odds a little bit."
Perhaps it's because of the preparation, immediately noticeable upon entering the clubhouse. Perhaps it's because of the offseason regimen he adjusts every year to keep him ready for the field's most demanding position.
But perhaps it's just him, the captain, the one who already has helped build multiple versions of this team, one who -- thanks to a women's soccer tournament nearly seven years ago -- seems well on his way to building another. 