Those hoping for more A-Rod humiliation will have to wait

DUNEDIN, Fla. – The trip from Tampa isn’t much, 22 miles door to door. Takes maybe 35 minutes, if you hit the lights wrong. The drive is nice, though. A lot of it comes with a bay view. By the way folks were talking about it, though, you’d have thought Alex Rodriguez was going to run the whole way in catcher’s gear.

He took the bus instead. The big one with business class seats and air conditioning. If that still sounded onerous to you.

He did stretch along the left-field line as game time drew near. And if you were among those who hoped hardship was waiting on the other end of the causeway, he did have to stand through two anthems.

Rodriguez would play his first road game on Saturday since you know what, you know when and, especially, you know why. The occasion carried an opportunity for unfriendly fans to shake him from his pinstriped womb, and no one, it seems, wants to miss a moment with potential for A-Rod disgrace. So, under high puffy clouds and a sun that felt a foot or two closer than it should have been, a fairly large gathering of Canadians and Toronto Blue Jays abiders – the first sellout of spring at Florida Auto Exchange Stadium – booed A-Rod when he came up to bat in the second inning. Some cheered. A few chanted Derek Jeter’s name, because – well, not sure about that.

Rodriguez responded by tapping former teammate Russell Martin on his shin guard, asking how he was doing and then striking out on three pitches from 21-year-old left-hander Daniel Norris – fastball, curveball, fastball, here’s the keys go sit in the van.

Next time up, in the fourth inning, Norris threw him another fastball and Rodriguez banged it off the right-field fence. He pulled into first with a single. Through 18 plate appearances in the spring of his disconnect, Rodriguez was batting .400 and he was holding his own at third base, where he will not play often in the regular season anyway.

A few weeks in, and with about that much to go, it seems clear now that Rodriguez, barring catastrophic injury, is reasonably skilled enough to play, to go about earning the $61 million he’s got coming. It also seems clear that his union brothers haven’t taken that lawsuit too hard. He hasn’t been turned into a batter’s box tin duck. The Players Association has said it would back the player if the organization went after his milestone bonuses. The whole bus thing worked out. Conspiracy theorists were certain he’d be on every bus to every dusty hardball outpost, but that hasn’t come to be. So even the Yankees are going easy on the old fella.

Anyone looking for disaster, for humiliation, for disgrace, they’ll have to wait on that.

No, it appears the rest of Rodriguez’s career – be it three years or three days – will be a fair fight. Him against them, as it’s always been. Him against the calendar, getting more vigorous by the day. Him against himself, usually a rout, but we all grow up eventually, in the best case before anyone notices.

He was 1-for-3 Saturday. He ran the outfield warning track. He pulled on a green University of Miami golf shirt and turned, revealing tan lines etched across his face from weeks of sunglasses.

“My grays felt OK,” he said. “A little tight.”

Since he reported, not for a minute has Rodriguez appeared overwhelmed. Not physically. Not emotionally. On Saturday he found a laugh in the Derek Jeter chants – “I actually liked that. I actually missed my buddy.” – and in him turning a double into a single – “I would say I’m moving as good as you’re going to see me move. My days of speed are over.” – and in his inability to beat a Blue Jays baserunner to the bag – “Foot speed again.”

If he’s going to play any third base, then he’ll just have to be another slow third baseman. Plenty of those around.

You know, at the end of the day, even one that includes an incapacitating bus trip and someone else toting his duffel bag to the clubhouse and back, it’s just baseball. It’s his game. Maybe it’s not exactly the same kind of game, and maybe he’ll wonder where his gummy bears are, and his MVP days are gone, but it’s not over his head yet.

An hour before the Yankees arrived, Blue Jays manager John Gibbons, who’d been critical of Rodriguez in the past, crossed his arms and asked, “How’s he look?”

Well, he’s upright. He’s 39. He’s better against an 89-mph fastball than 95. He’s not great, not today. He’s not a mess.

“I’m really just concentrating on playing the game,” he said. “I’m having a great time.”

Baseball is coming. So he’s along for the ride.