ORT MYERS, Fla. - Dennis Eckersley beat the rest of New England to the ''Wow'' with Manny Ramirez. That was the Eck's reaction when Ramirez, seemingly using an eyelet from his shoelaces as a batting tee, ripped a low, inside pitch from the Red Sox reliever just inside the left-field foul pole in Fenway Park, producing a ninth-inning run that ultimately proved to be a game-winner during the 1998 playoffs.
It's not as if Sox fans aren't primed to fall in line behind Eckersley. It's just that after a spring training in which Ramirez was idled by a sore hamstring and hit just .154 with 1 home run, they're still in the ''Show Me'' stage. Ramirez hasn't yet motivated the $55-a-ticket set in Boston to welcome him with the same adoration with which his fans in Cleveland bid him farewell last Oct. 1 when he hit a 452-foot home run off Toronto pitcher John Frascatore in his last at-bat in an Indians uniform.
''It reminded me a little bit of that famous Ted Williams home run,'' said Indians manager Charlie Manuel, recalling the Kid's goodbye in 1960.
For a Dominican kid who grew up in the non-trendy side of Manhattan - that upper end of the island known as Washington Heights - Manny Ramirez tends to have his name dropped in the same sentence as the game's biggest stars, past and present, and isn't out of place in their company.
So, maybe Manny didn't do much in March. Just hope he's still playing in October. He hasn't hit much for average in the postseason (.223, including an invisible 1 for 18 against the Sox in 1999), but he has hit 13 postseason home runs, fifth most in history behind Mickey Mantle (18), Reggie Jackson (18), Jim Thome (16), and Babe Ruth (15). (And yes, we're well aware that the Mick, Reggie Jax, and the Babe didn't have the benefit of bonus rounds.)
He's a big-game hunter, too, when the weather turns cold. Not only has he taken Eckersley deep in the postseason, but Bret Saberhagen, Mike Mussina, David Wells, and Jimmy Key, which would make a nice all-star rotation in anybody's league.
''When I'm doing everything right, it doesn't matter,'' Ramirez said back in January to ESPN The Magazine, when he still embraced conversation as an acceptable form of social exchange. ''I have no fear. It's like there's no pitcher out there.
''And when I'm not all right, all pitchers are tough. You could get me out. My sister could strike me out.''
Regrettably for whatever fantasies his sister might have about racking up the whiffs, Ramirez is usually on more than off, with a couple of spectacular exceptions: Yankees closer Mariano Rivera, against whom Ramirez is 0 for 12, and Pedro Martinez, who has three times as many strikeouts (13) against Ramirez than hits allowed (4 for 29, .138).
''One of the best things about this deal,'' general manager Dan Duquette said after Ramirez agreed to an eight-year, $160 million offer from the Red Sox, ''is that Manny won't have to hit against Pedro anymore.''
But it is as a run-producer that Ramirez has few peers. In his six full seasons with the Indians, Ramirez has averaged .319, 36 home runs, and 123 RBIs. But narrow the sample even further, and the numbers become even more bodacious.
In his last 359 games, dating back to June 15, 1998, Ramirez has knocked in 393 runs. Since the start of the '98 season, only Sammy Sosa has knocked in more runs (437 to 432). Last season, Ramirez averaged one RBI per every 3.6 at-bats, the best ratio in the game.
When he drove in a career-best 165 runs in 1999, he broke Hal Trosky's 1936 club record of 162, and he was the first player since Jimmie Foxx in 1938 to drive in more than 160 runs.
Last season, Ramirez came back from missing 39 games with a pulled hamstring to put together a monster second half, hitting 25 home runs, knocking in 75 runs, and batting .371. With runners in scoring position, he hit .354 (52 for 147), seventh in the league, three spots behind Nomar Garciaparra (.374).
Duquette was already prepared to predict that Garciaparra-Ramirez would be the best 3-4 combination in the 100 years of Sox-watching, and he had a six-state region primed to agree.
Mindset at the plate
What separates the RBI machines from mere mortals?
''A run producer doesn't necessarily have to be a high-average guy,'' Sox hitting coach Rick Down said.
''I think it's not so much what they do as what some others don't do. Good hitters and run-producers are guys who hit with runners in scoring position, who don't change their approach. They don't get excited about it. They maintain the same approach, the same thought process as they would with nobody on base, but now there's a runner on second.
''The guys who struggle with people in scoring position, they go up there trying to do too much. They expand their zone. They're going to be the one to drive that guy in, regardless of whether they get a quality pitch or not.
''Instead of saying, I did it my way with my pitch, they were in a hurry. They wanted to get it done on that at-bat, even if they didn't get their pitch, instead of taking a walk and letting somebody else do it.''
Garciaparra and Ramirez did not appear together in a game this spring. Garciaparra missed the entire exhibition schedule with tendinitis in his right wrist, and Ramirez missed the last 21/2 weeks with a strained left hamstring. But Down saw enough of the two, in the cage and on video, to offer some thoughts.
''Nomar's personality is a little different,'' Down said. ''He hacks. He's up there, he's definitely going to hit. Where's his comfort zone? A thrown baseball. He welcomes that challenge.
''I would never throw him twice the same way, even if I'd gotten him out on the previous at-bat. He's good enough to look anywhere and look for something. If he gets it, he's going to hit it. Never throw him the same pitch, never the same location, never the same speed.
''Nomar can hit any part of the strike zone. That's why he hits .360, .370. If you're going to get him out, you've got to do it with something less. I don't think you're going to throw your best fastball by Nomar Garciaparra. He's not going to let that happen, he's so quick. That's his strength, his bat speed.''
Ramirez?
''He works it,'' Down said. ''He stays inside the baseball, swings at strikes. He works from gap to gap; he doesn't try to go to either extreme. He's basically wall to wall, line to line, uses the whole field.''
Methodical approach
Ramirez drove in as many runs as he did in Cleveland, Down said, in part because he had terrific hitters in front of him: Kenny Lofton, Omar Vizquel, and Robbie Alomar, All-Stars all. His numbers may dip in Boston depending on who hits in front of him.
But does Ramirez change his approach when there are runners on base? No, says Down, who says Ramirez shows a developed understanding of hitting. ''Manny gets a good pitch,'' he said. ''There's no sense of urgency or panic or `I must get.' He looks for the same pitch with nobody on base as when there is a runner on second. He's not going to expand the zone just to make contact, hit a ground ball. He's going to drive the ball.
''Hitting's very simple. Get a good pitch to hit.''
Ramirez, like Garciaparra, spends a great deal of time working on his game.
''When he plays soft toss every day, he does the same thing,'' Down said. ''He stays behind the ball. Hitting is a feel. You try to capture that feel with the same swing, keeping your head still and keeping your hands going to the ball in a straight line.
''Manny's stance is very quiet. He's got the knee lift, but he puts it up and down without any movement forward with his head.''
When Ramirez is at the plate, the heads that move are the ones in the stands, twisting around, leaning forward with arching necks, and often mouthing a single syllable.
Wow.
