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I remember the call vividly. My neighbor Salvatore, an 86 year Italian immigrant, called me excitedly with his weekly update on his beloved New York Yankees. " They did it. I can't believe it. They traded for Rodriguez. It is the new Murderer's Row. We can't lose," Sal reported to me in a breathless tone. " It is going to be beautiful." I humored him, as I had when he called me the week previously, explaining his conspiracy that the Boston Red Sox were making secret deals to impending Yankee free agents. Sal was undeterred that he lacked proof or a reputable source for this allegation; as was the case for many of his suspicions and paranoia regarding the lurking, nameless mob that was always trying to undermine and topple the team he loved so much . The call about Rodriguez, however, was different. I heard in the voice of this old man an excitement, an emotion, that I had not heard before. It was the voice of hope, and it was so tangible that I felt as if I could reach through the phone and touch it. " You'll see", Sal's voice cracked. "Beautiful"

Alex Rodriguez arrived in New York to a reception almost as passionate and fervent as Sal's phone call. A-Rod, as he was called, flashed the cameras a huge smile and said all of the right things. He loved New York: the fans, the management, the chance to play for such a storied franchise. He said he was wiling to do anything to put the team first, including moving his fielding position from short stop to third base. Maybe it was the excitement of getting another marquee player, or A-Rod's aw-shucks persona, that caused the media and the fans to ignore and forget the whispers. The whispers that hung over A-Rod like a Seattle Rain cloud aching to burst from his previous teammates, previous managers, and previous beat reporters . The whispers that portrayed one of the most skilled players in the history of baseball as a selfish, ego-driven, disingenuous, phony who cared more for personal stats, money and fame than any team success on a baseball field.
New York, the media and fans had decided, would be different. After all, A- Rod would be happy in New York. Happiness had eluded him in Texas and Seattle because those markets were clearly not designed for a player of his caliber.
The years that followed made fools of these believers. Although A-Rod put up staggering numbers, the fans of New York still never knew what to believe. There was something hypocritical about his smile, something false about

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