That’s a question that’s likely to remain hypothetical.
Manny Ramirez slipped away quietly into retirement Friday after it was revealed he flunked a drug screening. Unless some future commissioner grants a pardon for the stars of the Steroid Era, I doubt Manny will ever make the Baseball Hall of Fame. He has the stats to justify entry into Cooperstown, but with his tainted record I doubt the Baseball Writers of America will vote him in.
I can’t disagree with them, but what a shame. Manny was a fearsome hitter through most of his 19 big league seasons, the last cut short after just five games with the Tampa Bay Rays. And his free-spirited, dreadlocked persona was always a fun story, much more compelling than the surly moodiness of media-hating Barry Bonds.
If Manny somehow were to make it to Cooperstown, the question would be whether he’d wear the Indians’ Chief Wahoo or the Boston “B.” He spent eight years with each club, taking the Tribe to the World Series twice and the Red Sox to its curse-breaking championship in 2004.
With the exceptions of triples and stolen bases, Manny’s numbers in Boston were just a shade better than the great numbers he posted in Cleveland. And the Bosox winning it all is the clincher.
So Manny would go in wearing a bronze Red Sox cap. But he won’t.