Sports retirements, like bad hookups, often generate unfulfilling climaxes that fail to live up to hype. Careers are either over too soon, leaving questions of unfilled potential, or athletes don't retire quite soon enough, making you go coyote ugly in the morning as you wonder why you ever wore a player's jersey.
Barry Sanders perfectly exemplifies the former case. At the time of his sudden disappearance from pro football in 1999, he was just 1,457 yards away from breaking the NFL career rushing record. Sanders' retirement was an unforeseen decision, coming two years before his contract expired with the Detroit Lions and costing him over $5 million when the Lions sued for breach of contract. Since retiring, Sanders has gone on to become one of the youngest inductees to the Hall of Fame and still holds the team record for career rushing yards. Young and at the top of his game, Sanders clearly had plenty left in him when he bowed out from professional sports, leaving only the question of how much more he had to give.
Conversely, you don't have to fall into complete obscurity to overstay your welcome. Jerry Rice's skills had just begun to decline when he left football after 20 years in the NFL, but it was a sharp drop-off, and his reputation as "The Greatest" threw his rapidly deteriorating ability into stark relief. It was painful to watch the talents of a hero like Rice diminish, but when he cried at his retirement announcement, it didn't make the moment tender, only a little more agonizing for everyone who had to watch.
And then there are the retiring athletes that fall between ending their careers too quickly or not getting out in time. These are the guys that put on their socks and shoes, go to their car and then come back for one more goodnight kiss. Such players' fickle indecision consistently ruins the romanticism of retirement.
If there was one man who ever encapsulated this vacillation, it would be Roger Clemens, although he might be coming back to borrow cab fare rather than give a goodnight kiss.
Clemens began his brilliant career with the Boston Red Sox, winning two Cy Young Awards, and went on to win two more Cy Youngs and two pitching triple crowns (league leader in wins, ERA and strikeouts) with the Toronto Blue Jays before being traded to the New York Yankees in 1999. The Rocket set most of his career records with the Yankees and finally earned his elusive 300th win in his last season with the Bombers in 2003. But perhaps most importantly, Clemens earned a World Series ring - two, in fact. This was the one piece of the puzzle he claimed to need before retiring. So after an anti-climactic end to the 2003 season, the Rocket kissed the Babe goodnight in Yankee Stadium and hung up his mitt. Or so we thought.
Less than two months into that offseason, rumors began circulating on Texas radio stations and various Web sites that Clemens was considering reversing his retirement and signing with the Houston Astros. A local Houston car dealership offered to give Clemens a free Hummer if he signed with the team, and less than four months after "retiring" from baseball, Clemens was suiting up for another squad.
Similarly, Michael Jordan is another standard of the sporting world that specializes in drawn-out goodbyes. His brilliant career with the Chicago Bulls first ended abruptly in 1993. Less than a year after retiring from basketball, Jordan decided to pursue his childhood dream of playing baseball. Assigned to the Birmingham Barons, a Chicago White Sox farm team, Jordan spent a rather pathetic year in the minors, finally deciding to salvage his reputation the only way he knew how: basketball.
Returning in 1995, Jordan played again for the Bulls, ending his career four seasons later with a perfect 20-foot jumper in the closing seconds, giving the Bulls their sixth championship in eight years. It was one of the greatest finales in sports history, but it only served as a finale for three years.
In 2002, Jordan returned to basketball yet again, this time with the Washington Wizards. After two injury-prone and anti-climactic seasons, he retired for the third time.
The drama of a perfectly tied-up sports career is certainly compromised by the on-again, off-again retirement. At the same time, it's hard to fault Clemens or Jordan for taking advantage of such a seemingly endless wealth of talent.
The missteps of Jordan, Clemens, Sanders and Rice can be lessons for all on how and when to take an exit. As I move into my own retirement from The Herald, I am reminded of what watching these athletes has taught me not to do in the next few years: I will not try to play minor league baseball. I will not sell out my grand finale for a Hummer. I will not flake out on a million-dollar contract. But most of all, I will not cry. Because there is no crying in baseball columns.
In four years at The Herald, Kate Klonick '06 has covered squash and written athlete of the week features and baseball columns.
