A tribute to Rickey Henderson, MLB’s undisputed best leadoff hitter, originally appeared on NBC Sports Bay Area

Undisputed singular superlatives are rare in sport because debates are natural and constant change always provides a counterpoint. The physical evolution of humanity shows that the greatest of all time can expect to be surpassed today.

Rickey Henderson was one of the rare exceptions. He rose from the Oakland youth baseball diamond to become the undisputed greatest leadoff batter in baseball history.

The news that Rickey died on Friday, confirmed by NBC Sports California, hit like a hammer in the gut. He’s so fit. So alive. Built to last. Only 65 years old. He is dead, but the heroics that got him a first-ballot entry into the National Baseball Hall of Fame will live on forever.

Nobody could have given their team an advantage so quickly. Home run, hit or walk, it’s the pitcher’s decision and neither was attractive. The pitch to Rickey was like walking a tightrope. One mistake and you’re done. His strike zone, thanks to his signature crouch, was the size of a postage stamp. Pitchers who dared enter the ballpark often left the ballpark, leaving little more than a vapor trail as he strutted around the bases.

Pitches that evaded Rickey’s strike zone landed him at first base, where he was unmatched at annoying opposing managers, unsettling opposing pitchers and delighting his team’s fans.

Rickey lived for star moments on big stages and under bright lights, so the sight of him walking to first base was an event in itself. Like Stephen Curry hitting a three-pointer with the Warriors trailing by two points in the final minute. Or Shohei Ohtani stepping into the batter’s box with the bases loaded. Or old Tiger Woods, two shots behind, teeing off at Augusta National on Sunday morning.

The audience leaned forward in unison as they scooted to the edge of their seats. The show was about to start. The pitcher and catcher were on high alert. The following dough was irrelevant. It was all about Rickey. What would he do? Everyone knew it. He would steal a base. He did it anyway. He was a peacock in uniform with hubris and bravery at the core of his identity.

Remember, it was 1991 when Rickey became Major League Baseball’s all-time stolen bases leader, eclipsing Hall of Fame outfielder Lou Brock. Rickey was 32 years old. In his prime. He played another 12 seasons.

Who on God’s green earth sets a career record – any career record – right in the middle of their career? It’s unbelievable. Well, that was it — until Rickey accomplished the feat in 1,001 fewer games than Brock, who was 39 years old when he caught his 939th and final base.

Rickey stole another 467 bases before retiring in 2003 at age 44, with 1,406 steals. In the 21 years that have passed, no one has matched Brock’s total, let alone Rickey’s. He stole more than twice as many bases as Hall of Famer Joe Morgan, more than three times as many as Hall of Famer Craig Biggio and more than four times as many as Hall of Famer Willie Mays, whose Hall credentials, like Henderson’s, include to a separate wing in Cooperstown.

Rickey was such a disruptive baserunner that it seemed certain pitchers preferred to challenge him with strikes just to avoid the anxiety that came with putting him on base. He influenced timing, focus, rhythm and pitch selection.

The problem with pitching to Rickey was that he had the tools to punish the ball with a vengeance. He is the all-time leader in leadoff home runs with 81, suggesting no one was better at getting his team on the scoreboard in the first inning. He finished his career with 297 home runs, surpassing the totals of hitters such as Will Clark, Pat Burrell and Roger Maris.

What to do with a man who would destroy you if you didn’t hit, or beat you to the ground if you didn’t?

Noted baseball guru Bill James, the father of sabermetrics and statistician/historian who invented the “Win ​​Shares” statistic, summed up Rickey’s career with this exquisite description: “If you could split him in two, you’d have two Halls of Famers.” .”

When it comes to building the ultimate baseball roster, only one part escapes the debate. Leadoff. That belongs to Rickey, the all-time leader in runs, home runs and steals.

Rickey entertained, produced and commanded undivided attention. His performance and impact stands out among all legends, regardless of sport.

We’ve never seen Rickey as he was before he arrived on June 24, 1979. We didn’t see him when he played, and we haven’t seen him in the 21 years since he left the batter’s box.

Maybe one day we’ll see a different Rickey, someone whose body is carved from marble, who promises game-changing speed, strength and patience and has the power to play for 24 years.

Or maybe not, regardless of human development.