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A-Rod's 660th homer serves as referendum on who he is – and who he could have been

Alex Rodriguez hit the 660th home run of his irregular career Friday night in Boston. It looked like many of the previous 659, except this one landed with a clunk beside Willie Mays.

He'll have to answer for that, too.

It was the first pinch-hit homer – and second career pinch hit – of his career, an eighth-inning line drive off Red Sox reliever Junichi Tazawa. After working a 3-0 count with one out, Rodriguez got a hold of a fastball and launched it over the Green Monster, pushing his career mark as a pinch hitter to 2-for-17.

Every home run Rodriguez hits kicks up the dust of who A-Rod is, which stirs the notions of who he was (or who we thought he was), and then summons the myth of who he could have been. It's a generational thing, embraced wholly by the impetuous and wayward A-Rod.

This, however, is about the time they count not the number, but the name. There was but one Willie Mays. Think of it this way: There are four fewer Willie Mayses than there are milestone bonuses owed to Alex Rodriguez by the New York Yankees. (For this particular one, Rodriguez is due $6 million, or about three times what Mays made in his career.)

Alex Rodriguez runs to first after hitting home run No. 660. (AP)
Alex Rodriguez runs to first after hitting home run No. 660. (AP)

There are, at the end of the counting, many A-Rods. You know their names. They're all over the list Rodriguez has ascended.

While they stand tied in fourth place on the all-time home runs list – Babe Ruth, at 714, is next, distantly, then Hank Aaron and Barry Bonds – Rodriguez will not be confused with Mays. Not today, when he stepped into a batter's box in a uniform he was never supposed to wear again and hit the home run he would never hit. Not tomorrow, when the historians size it all up (and when the Yankees refuse to part with that milestone money).

Rodriguez played that game and lived that life once, when he was the antidote to those who'd fouled the record books. He was much younger then and maybe not quite as wealthy, but getting there. He'll be 40 soon, and what was to be has long since been undone. He reached Mays on the other side of the ugly rumors, which became ugly truths. He served a yearlong suspension for those truths. He fought as if innocent, then caved as if cornered, in a spectacle that ensnared his commissioner, his union, his organization and even his family.

It was again a defiant Rodriguez – he does defiant with the best – who showed up in mid-February to a cool reception from the Yankees, who were betting against him and maybe even rooting against him. He was too old, too scarred, too fragile. It was a matter of time before he limped away, beaten. He hadn't played in a year-and-a-half. The fans were sure to turn on him once and for all, to make his life miserable. There was no room for him here, except he took his place with them and took his reps and slowly they watched as his eye and bat speed returned, and less than a week into the regular season he was standing in the middle of their batting order and producing.

For that, there is something admirable about Alex Rodriguez. He can take a punch, especially when self-inflicted. He can turn a page, even when the book is in flames. When the world has had enough of him, just can't stand the thought of him, he returns the next day and reports for early batting practice. It does not occur to him to be ashamed or embarrassed, and maybe that comes with making nearly half-a-billion dollars, and maybe that's just a guy whose reality lands with a clatter on the front porch every day, like the morning paper.

The Yankees greet Rodriguez as he returns to the dugout after his historic homer. (Getty Images)
The Yankees greet Rodriguez as he returns to the dugout after his historic homer. (Getty Images)

His career in embers, his reputation toe-tagged, Rodriguez put on their uniform and walked into their stadium and hit six home runs in less than a month. He played some third base, stumbled around a little at first base and stole at-bats when there were supposed to be none.

He's made a career now of resurrecting his career and papering over his character, and this time it could last another day or another month or to the very end of a contract the Yankees so regret. We'll never know if he could have done this on his own. Worse, probably, he'll never know.

If he'd only stayed in the moment for the past 20 years. Forgotten what was out there somewhere beyond today and tomorrow. Forgotten what the numbers were making him – Hall of Famer, wealthy, iconic, among the best ever, all that – and just shown up for four or five at-bats, left it at that. Maybe he doesn't get to that number – 660. Maybe he doesn't get to Mays. Most don't.

That's hollow talk now. The numbers don't mean what they should. Neither do the past 20 years. So, what's left is for Alex Rodriguez to take those four or five at-bats, live with those, and worry about tomorrow when it comes. He got there, finally.

Rodriguez has been accused – falsely, usually – of hitting many, many insignificant home runs. This should not have been one of them. But, then, it's a little late for regret.

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