In a sporting world loaded with disconcerting images of egomaniacs, whiners and social misfits not worth spit, Alex Rodriguez casts a wholesome profile, projecting Richie Cunningham values with a Hispanic accent.
The young man drinks nothing stronger than milk, is a devout Christian, still lives at home in the off-season and loves to unwind with an inspiring game of chess when leisure time beckons. It gets worse (parental discretion is advised here): Rodriguez is consistently kind to that evil breed of humanoid known as the sports writer.
An exhaustive search through Rodriguez’s personal and professional files failed to document any peccadillos, though there was a brief moment of flirtatious anticipation on Sept. 1, when Baltimore Orioles manager Davey Johnson confiscated one of Rodriguez’s bat for inspection.
The bat was not corked.
Not that George Diaz could have foreseen Rodriguez’s fall from grace, but it’s a good reminder not to have heroes.
