RICKEY HENDERSON HAS DIED

I am in utter shock.

I can’t believe it. I just can’t. Rickey Henderson is gone. My heart is shattered. This feels unreal—like some terrible mistake. Rickey was more than a legend to me; he was everything. As a kid in Little League, he was my hero. I worshiped the way he played the game—the speed, the daring, the way he could steal a base like it was nothing. I’d step onto the diamond, pretending I was Rickey, stealing bases like my life depended on it. By the end of most seasons, I’d usually lead my league in stolen bases, and it was all because of him.

Now he’s gone. How can that even be possible? Rickey, the man who could do the impossible on a baseball field. The man who stole 1,406 bases and scored more runs than anyone in the history of the game. He made baseball come alive. His debut with the A’s at 20, his record-setting 130 steals in 1982, the countless electrifying moments—it all feels like yesterday.

When I heard he was coming to the Yankees, I was over the moon. I remember buying my first-ever 8x10 photo of Rickey in that iconic green and yellow A’s uniform just a few years before he come to the Bronx, but seeing him in pinstripes? That was pure magic. My hero, playing for my team. Every game he played felt like a gift.

Now he’s gone. Dave Winfield said, “I still cannot believe I’ve lost one of my favorite teammates and great friend Rickey Henderson.” I feel that disbelief in my bones. How can someone larger than life be gone?

Rickey’s legacy is staggering. Over 3,000 hits, nearly 300 home runs, and those untouchable Major League records: 2,295 runs scored and 1,406 stolen bases. A 10-time All-Star, the 1990 MVP, and a two-time World Series champion. He was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2009, first ballot, as he absolutely should have been.

But Rickey was more than the stats. He was Rickey. He made you love the game, made you believe anything was possible. I still can’t process this. Rest in peace, Rickey. You were my hero then, and you always will be. Baseball will never be the same without you.

You were the greatest.  I cannot believe this happened. 65 years old. So young!