2,000 Is Becoming Popular Number for the Yankees
By TYLER KEPNER
There are many magic numbers in baseball, but 2,000 is not really one of them. When Derek Jeter got his 2,000th hit last month, he joined a club with 238 other members. When Bernie Williams plays his next game, he will have 2,000 career appearances. Two hundred and three other players can make that claim.
But if nothing else, 2,000 is a round number that signifies perseverance. And for the Yankees — when you take away the comma — the number has an added resonance. They won their last championship in 2000, clinching it when Mike Piazza's deep fly ball settled into Williams's glove at Shea Stadium.
When Williams made the catch, he dropped to one knee in prayer. He signs autographs with the letters "SDG" beneath his name, standing for Solo Dios Gloria, which is a Spanish phrase praising God. Ask him to talk about his accomplishments, and Williams winces.
"I'd rather just let the year play out and keep moving ahead," he said. "I don't want to draw attention to myself."
Williams, who turns 38 in September, is nearing the end of what used to be a player's natural career arc. He took a few years to become a star. He began to excel in his mid-20's. He began to decline in his mid-30's.
Now Williams hits for much less power than he used to. His average is .260, 37 points below his career mark, and he reaches base in only 30 percent of his plate appearances. When he plays too often, he wears down.
"When he ends up playing six, seven days in a row, you start to see a falloff in the energy and everything else," the hitting coach Don Mattingly said. "And then you give him a couple of days, it's like, 'Whoa, he's back.' "
"We're trying to keep him strong through the course of the year," Mattingly added. "Obviously, we can only do so much, because we have so many guys hurt or injured, and you want to try to keep him out there."
The Yankees have lost their corner outfielders, Hideki Matsui and Gary Sheffield, to wrist injuries. Center fielder Johnny Damon is still running into walls with abandon as he plays on a broken toe. The rookie Melky Cabrera is manning left field. Most nights, it is Williams in right, still beloved after all these years.
On Sunday at Yankee Stadium, as the Yankees lost their fourth game in a row, Williams and Alex Rodriguez both went 0 for 3. When Rodriguez made his outs, the fans erupted with boos. When Williams made his, no one seemed to notice.
"Bernie will make an error, and they'll cheer him when he comes up," Manager Joe Torre said, laughing, before Sunday's game. "For the guys who get booed off the face of the earth, I'm sure they feel it's unfair."
Williams, of course, is part of the small core of Yankees who have stayed with the team since the end of the championship era. That alone makes him beloved, but it does not explain everything. There is more to it than a ring collection.
"He's played his whole career here, he's handled himself properly and he's not an excuse guy," said Mattingly, who is also still adored by fans.
"I think the biggest thing in New York is it's a no-excuse town. Don't come here and make excuses, just take care of your business. If you screw up, say, 'I messed up.' They've seen it all. You can't come in and trick them. You take your lumps, but you say, 'I'm going to be back.' "
Williams is often the first player to leave the clubhouse after a game; it seems impossible that a human could shower, dress and depart any quicker. But Mattingly is right: when Williams does answer questions, he never makes excuses.
Last month, a day after he was ejected for the first time in his career, Williams did not try to explain why he tossed his bat and helmet after he was called out on strikes. He called his behavior unacceptable. "As much as I think the umpire had a bad day," he said, "it doesn't justify my actions."
Williams also has perspective befitting a 16-year veteran. Two springs ago, when teammates opted not to comment, Williams offered a simple defense to the idea that Rodriguez would not be a "true Yankee" without winning a title.
"You have one of the greatest Yankees ever to wear the uniform in Cap," Williams said, referring by nickname to Mattingly, the former Yankees captain. "Who would argue that he is not a true Yankee? And still, he never won a World Series."
Williams always speaks of Mattingly with reverence. Williams was a gawky rookie in 1991, and it was Mattingly, he said, who told teammates to go easy on him. Williams also learned an important lesson.
"He taught me a piece of advice that I take even to this day," Williams said Sunday. "He said to me: 'I don't really care what you do the night before or the week before — when you come to the field, you come ready to play. Mentally ready to play. You've got to be all there. You can't worry about maybe I don't feel too good today, or I don't feel 100 percent. You've got to go like: dude, get it done.' "
Almost 2,000 times now, Williams has taken the field, with aches most fans never hear about. He estimates that players are in top shape only 25 percent of the time. The other days are a grind, Williams said, but it is important for young players to see veterans playing hurt.
"It has more of a positive influence than you would ever know," he said.
And what about the baseball Williams caught that October night in Flushing? The one that effectively concluded the Yankees' dynasty, a memento they have spent hundreds of millions of dollars trying to recapture?
Williams still has the ball at his home, autographed by the members of the team. It goes without saying that it is his most cherished item of an elegant career.
"Absolutely, man," said Williams, team player to the end. "Are you kidding me?"
