I Shall Be Released

In what looks like a prelude to retirement, Anthony Darrell Womack, 37, was unconditionally released Thursday, by the undermanned Washington Nationals.

For years, the name Tony Womack has functioned on message boards as little more than a punchline, like Jeff Gilooly or Anna Nicole Smith. Today, sabermetric know-it-alls take a moment from their indulgent fantasy draft fretting to snicker over the carcass of baseball's biggest out machine on forums nationwide.

Since his 2003 departure from the Diamondbacks, however, Tony amazingly played on six other major league clubs. He didnt play well, of course, but one cant deny that a bunch of people wanted him on their roster. A bunch of dumb people, according to conventional wisdom.

Nathanial Showalter was one of those people, back when the Arizona franchise competed for more than this town's sympathy - and while Buck was many things, baseball dumb he was not. The Womack deal almost fell through more than once - but Showalter kept pressing until he got his little leadoff man from the Pirates.

Despite their youth, the 1998 Diamondbacks stole just 73 bases, so Tony came in the next summer and swiped 72 by hisself....in 85 attempts. No player in either league since, not Podsednik, Crawford or Pierre, has swiped as many bags in a season. Pitchers were wee weeing in their pants April thru October, at least every time Womack got on. Buck stuck his shaky second baseman in right field, where his struggles culminated in a memorable dropped fly ball at Shea in the NLDS.   

Then Buck, or I should say, Tony, did something rather remarkable. On the heels of defensive failures at less demanding positions, Womack converted to... shortstop. He was not particularly good there either, but gutted it out with a so so arm and whatever else he could muster. Perhaps most to his credit, he was there so someone else didnt have to be. Playing out of position at the pleasure of his coach, working to be the best he could be, even if that meant just getting by.

In the 2001 NLDS, he hit .294 against the Cardinals , capping it off with the series winning single, the biggest hit in franchise history to date. A couple weeks later, the anemic one delivered the now overshadowed Game 7 dagger against Mariano Rivera, sandwiched between Gracie and Gonzo's bleeders, that brought Arizona that goofy trophy with all the metallic flags.

If you get your hands on the DVD, watch the at bat in it's entirety; the other highlight splices really dont do it justice. Womack barely fouls off several cutters to stay alive against the greatest closer in history. The crowd actually thinks he's struck out. It's not one of those at bats where you sense the batter is gaining any advantage by spoiling pitches. He's hanging on by a thread. Or a prayer. And then...pop! No bleeder, but a bullet to the corner. Glory and redemption.

My real time reaction to Tony's hit has gone down in family folklore and is dredged up in these parts at subsequent, garden variety, 9th inning rallies. I wont post the text here - not because it's profane - but because it's so long. There were only four words, actually, but according to my family, I repeated those words eleven times, for a total of forty four.

He. Blew. The. Save. 

Up to that moment, Rivera had recorded twenty three consecutive postseason saves. His playoff ERA was not 2.70, or 1.70. Pitching against baseball's best, on the postseason stage, it was zero point seven oh(0.70). Think Bob Gibson in 1968 - then cut that almost in half. And all the Diamondbacks had really acomplished to that point was first and second with one out - with an overmatched hitter at the plate, followed by   another weakling, Craig Counsell. Down a run, an out from the human out machine likely would've turned the series. It was a colossal hit under enormous pressure.

The players were individually introduced, early in the 2002 season, at the Diamondbacks ring ceremony. There, Tony got his hardware and, at least to this witness, a rather underwhelming round of applause. Phoenix, it seems, isn't as kind to it's African American athletes, unless they can rattle a rim or mug for the cameras, preferably both.

A search today on Tony inundates the Googler with rants from around the baseball world about what he couldn't or didnt do, but on this side of town at least, he will always be about the biggest hit imaginable.