The stats are what define the legacies of the game’s all-time greats, with the numbers — 755, 56, .406, etc. — almost as famous as the players who posted them.
Longtime Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield will retire on Friday night, and while his numbers won’t earn him a spot in Cooperstown, he will walk away with his name at or near the top of a lot of Red Sox pitching records.
He’ll leave the Red Sox third all time in wins behind a couple of guys named Cy Young and Roger Clemens. He’ll head out ranked second in club history in strikeouts. Five times Wakefield won at least 14 games. He threw 33 complete games.
Of course, longevity helps breed those numbers. The same reason Wakefield is at the top of those lists is the same reason that no one has ever allowed more home runs, walks, hits or has suffered a loss more in a Red Sox uniform than Wakefield. Something must be said, both good and bad, for walking away as the franchise leader in all-time innings while racking up the second-most appearences.
The numbers are there, sure. They’ll ensure that Wakefield will long be remembered as one of the most decorated pitchers in Red Sox history. The thing about Wakefield, however, is that he’ll be remembered much longer for so much more than numbers.
Wakefield’s greatest contribution to the Red Sox organization and the New England community will be for what he did away from the field, as opposed to what he did on a pitching mound.
You’d be hard-pressed to find a better teammate in any sport over the course of his career than Wakefield. Those that have played with Wakefield go out of their ways to attest to that. And why not? The examples are there over and over again.
In a sport where so many are criticized for being raised and groomed as the next big thing, Wakefield throughout his career showed multiple examples of selflessness that endeared him to a passionate fan base and a humble city. Whatever Wakefield was called on to do, he did it, and he often did it well.
He was there to step in during the 1999 season when the Sox needed a closer. The idea of a knuckleballer as a closer is one that many thought absurd, but Wakefield stepped in and did the job. He picked up 15 saves that season.
If you’re going to talk about Wakefield’s selflessness, there’s no better example than the 2004 American League Championship Series. He was supposed to start Game 4 of the series against the Yankees, in what would have been a chance to avenge the horrific ending to the ALCS a year earlier when Aaron Boone tattooed a Wakefield knuckleball to give the Yankees the pennant. As it often happens in baseball, things didn’t go according to script.
Bronson Arroyo was shellacked to start Game 3. The Yankees came out and knocked the right-hander all over the park. Ramiro Mendoza and Curtis Leskanic fared no better. Ever the consummate professional, Wakefield volunteered to work out of the bullpen — foregoing his Game 4 start — to help save the pen and help the Red Sox cling to any sort of hope that they’d be able to make a miracle comeback. Wakefield went 3 1/3 innings that night at Fenway, giving up five more runs. The Red Sox lost 19-8.
Four days later, the Red Sox won the ALCS capping the greatest comeback in baseball history. It was thanks in part to not only Wakefield’s Game 3 work, but his Game 5 appearance as well — three innings of one-hit relief (even as Jason Varitek chased passed ball after passed ball back to the backstop) and a big “W” next to his name.
Wakefield wasn’t done putting his team first, though. Three years later, an injury led Wakefield to take himself off the roster as the Sox entered the World Series.
“I just don’t think it’s fair to the other 24 guys on this team that I go out there and maybe I pitch well and maybe I don’t, and then I’m not available for the rest of the series,” he said at the time. “It’s not fair for the rest of the 24 guys in that clubhouse for me to put them through that.”
A week later, he had his second World Series title. That decision and the ensuing win led to this emotional exchange between Wakefield and veteran reliever Mike Timlin.
Josh Beckett was the biggest reason the Sox won it again in 2007, and years after that, he made it clear the impact that Wakefield had as a teammate over the years.
“With him,” Beckett said after Wakefield notched win No. 200, “it’s always ‘What can I do to help? Do I need to pitch out of the bullpen? Do I need to start?’ It may not always be the ideal situation but he goes and does it and takes care of his work like a lot of people can’t.”
Wakefield also made his presence felt in the community. His list of records and accomplishments may be long, but it’s nothing compared to the list of good deeds he’s done over his career. Wakefield was finally recognized by Major League Baseball for those contributions in 2010 as the Roberto Clemente Award winner, an award given to recognize community service.
He’s continued to do work both in his native home of Florida and his adopted home of Boston. He’s worked with kids over the years, touching numerous lives through his works. There’s also his work with the Jimmy Fund which has been documented year after year, as he continues to do all he can to bring the smiles of the faces of those less fortunate.
“Knowing these kids really keeps me grounded,” Wakefield once said. “I can’t tell you how humbling it is to visit them. Just putting a smile on their faces might save a life.”
Far too often, professional athletes perform selfless or charitable acts to better their image. With Wakefield, it never felt that way. It always seemed genuine, and because of that, he’s made himself something of a legend in the long, storied history of New England sports.
He may not be a legend in terms of what he did on the field, as it certainly wasn’t pretty at times. But when it comes to Tim Wakefield, it was always about much more than what happened on the mound at Fenway Park.
And it probably always will be.
